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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
When the Sticky Kid shuffles in the doorway, they're sitting on the rug, wiggling their fingers, but when they see her (him? it? they can't tell) they leap up. The Popular Kid stands first, as is the natural hierarchy of things, and the Ecological Kid and the Follower Kid fan out behind her. The New Kid stays seated, but only because she's untested. The Popular Kid's hand is splayed sassily on her hip. "What?" ...
As usual, Cosgrove got stuck with the weird ones. It was the way the hierarchy worked- the newest waitresses, the pale ones that babbled about student debt or unpaid loans, got the ones that the experienced waitresses deemed wackadoos. It wasn't one of the long paragraphs that accompanied her "Welcome! Thanks for coming! Now scrub tables!" memo- it wasn't in any company rulebook. It wasn't something they told he...
Once upon a time it was the middle of winter; the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky; a Queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window was made of black ebony. As she was sewing she looked out of this window and she thought to herself: “Would that I had a child with skin as white as snow, with lips as red as blood, and hair as black as the wood of the window-frame!”
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽- 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 '𝚎𝚖, 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 '𝚎𝚖! - And, now, the beautiful woman sitting in this chair before me, is our next story- teller, your typical small-town mother of two with a stunning tale to tell that is anything but normal. Give it up... for... Mrs. Rodrossi! - Thank you, Tom. Though, I must admit, 'beautiful' isn't the word I'd use to describe me. - Nonsense, nonsense! Ooh- here's one more thing about her, folks- she's humble, too! - I'd call it truth-telling, T...
His hands on his hips, the Big Kahuna surveyed the scene. The river. The sluggish, mud-colored water. The foggy steam, curling and licking up around our boots and coalescing at the midpoint of the waters. And then he looked at me, the prime victim, and I gulped. "Get in, Fisher." "But, sir- I'll get swept away, I'll-" Uncompromisingly, the Big Kahuna tossed an inner tube at me. It smacked wetly t...
Knock, knock.experiencedspontaneousregulationintelligencenationalistcompetitioncriticismcorrespondenceregistrationfacilityexhibitionvio...
"I just do not understand this the-buyer-puts-it-together thing," Siobhan said philosophically, narrowing his eyes in a way that emanated cheap Internet wisdom. "Can you not just do it for us? We are the customers, after all." "I'm not supposed to debate with customers, sir," the IKEA worker said nervously. I peer at him from around Siobhan's protective shoulder- he's the skinniest, most pimpled-up IKEA w...
you're swimming through the haze of nothing and sometimes you think you're nothing. you think the world is nothing because the world is you, isn't it? the world reflects your problems and the window looking back at you has nothing in it because it is dirty and because there is nothing to reflect because the chair you sit in is empty because you are nothing and nobody and the noise and the dim light goes right through you...
Tight-fitting spandex, bright colors, a booming voice, rippling muscles, and a murderous old lady on his tail- Hangman had it all."You'll never- ow- take me- ow- alive, Gladys! OW!""You - nasty - disgusting - perverted -" Between each word, the moldy purse came swinging down to whack Hangman in the head. "Walking - in - on - me - when - I'm -""It was an accident!" Hangman cried, toppling onto the pavement and trying to do a backwards crabwalk away from her."Nasty! Disgusting! Perverted!" Spit flew from the old ...
Sitting at my sickbed, the Big-Kahuna detective stared at me. Despite the piercing pain in my side, I made an effort to salute- my arm raised, limply, and flopped back down.Uh-oh was the only thought drifting foggily around in my painkiller-filled head."What happened?" he asked curtly. From the way he said it, I knew he'd been briefed; he just wanted to hear it from my own mouth. My gaping, fish-hooked mouth.(Literally. There was a fish-hook embedded in it- they were going to remove it later, they said.)<...
𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢. 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜. 𝚒’𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍. The detective took a long drag on his Marlboro, his expression quizzical. "Read it again," he barked. 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢. 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜. 𝚒’𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗.𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍. "She ignored the letter," the detective mumbled, almost to himself. "Innocent mistake, giving into childish pressure, or something darker?" "How do you know she saw the letter, sir?" I piped up. He didn't answer- a...
It's fitting, really, that the last few minutes you'll spend with Clarissa will involve cleaning, and mopping, and sweeping. After all, haven't you been busily mopping up her trail of devastation for the last six months? Clarissa oozes it behind her like a snail's slime, and you were the only one willing to give the ground she walked on a good scouring. Now, the only thing of hers you'll scour will be the surfaces she touched in your house. You just have to get done with this first. Yank down the streamers, scrub the ...
A long, long time ago, on the same street, in the same town, there lived a pregnant woman, a spineless man, and a witch. The spineless man was the father of the pregnant woman's baby. The witch was in love with the spineless man, and the spineless man was in love with the pregnant woman. The pregnant woman lived alone and loved no one. The witch, madly besotted with the man that was unaware of her acidic passion, went to the pregnant woman. She threatened her; she shrieked curses; she shouted spells that left burnt pa...
Hey, you! No, not her. She's fine. Leave her out of it. I'm talking to you. What are you doing? Yes! Yes, you're working. That's the problem. There's MANY ways it could be a problem. Let's start with the big prize-winning issue. YOU. HAVEN'T. LEFT. THIS. DESK. IN. DAYS. No! No, there hasn't been an influx of- of- overdue books, or ruined ones, or- or WHATEVER. There hasn'...
The dining hall is already full of noise, but this kind of noise is special. This noise- the helpless sobbing, the grim muttering, the snap of a crime-scene camera, the undercurrent of worried murmurs- is special. Normally, you would stick around. You would sit on a curb; you'd nonchalantly read a book or tap around on your phone, all while enjoying the sweet song of that noise- but tonight is different. Tonight, ...
if i died, would you notice? of course you freakin' would. i'm amazing.
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