Abbey Ryan

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2022

Stories (6)

6 Stories

108 karma pts

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“Bottle Half Full” by Abbey Ryan

Submitted to Contest #287

Restaurant. Cozy.A table near a window.Broken snow flurries outside.Candlelight flickering.Humming conversation, clinking silverware, gentle music.“Daniel! Hello!”“Hey.”“I’m late, I’m so sorry! Thank you for waiting!”“It’s been a while.”“It has, you’re right.”“You look—different.”“Oh, so do you.”“Older, you mean.”“Wiser, maybe.”“Is that what we’re calling gray hair? Wise looking?”“Some of us just age gracefully.”“And some of us are too gracious. Please—sit.”“Thank you.”Pause. A breath.“I didn’t think you’d come.”“I almost didn’t.”“But y...

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“The Box in the Closet” by Abbey Ryan

Submitted to Contest #286

Drizzle misted the window. Outside, other apartment buildings glowed faintly, smudged halos against an encroaching dusk. Emery stared out at them, leaning against her scratched kitchen counter, holding a chipped coffee mug in both hands. Her days were becoming more and more like this lately: an uneasy rhythm of waiting. Waiting for her thoughts to loosen. Waiting for the phone to buzz with a text she wasn’t sure she wanted. Waiting to decide what to do with that box she’d stuffed in her hallway closet. She turned the mug around in her hands,...

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“Black 47” by Abbey Ryan

Submitted to Contest #285

I remember the sound of the earth. Not the soft, rich soil beneath my feet, but the dry, crumbly stuff no longer yielding the promise of harvest. It wasn’t the sound of dirt that gave life anymore. It was the sound of a grave being dug.The year was 1847, the worst of it. We had been waiting for the famine to pass for two long years, hoping the bad spell would eventually lift. But it never did. The blight had come for the potatoes, turning them to rot, and it wanted every last one of them.My name is Aisling, and I’m a daughter of the land. My...

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“Door” by Abbey Ryan

Submitted to Contest #284

It appeared on Thursday around 1:30 PM. Maybe 2. Maren wasn’t entirely sure. She only noticed because it wasn’t supposed to be there. It had entirely replaced the south wall of her apartment. What used to be a flat expanse of beige with nothing but a broken clock, a collection of nail holes without any nails or pictures hanging from them, and a few black scuff marks… was a door. A large, ornate door. It was dark wood with swirling carvings that lacked any logical pattern, leaving Maren stricken. It didn’t match the original apartment because...

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“Frostbitten Christmas” by Abbey Ryan

Submitted to Contest #281

The house strained under the weight of garish Christmas. Something felt… wrong. As though caught in a chilly loop of stifled memories. Daniel ascended his front steps, wary of the banister strangled with garland. The cold bit at his skin, but it was the flood of holiday music that churned his stomach the moment he opened the door. He plunged into a home not his own, the door smashing behind him. His soaring ceilings were smothered with evergreen garlands and glaring lights. A towering tree bulged with flowers and mismatched ornaments, overst...

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“The Little Dress with the Long Ruffled Sleeves” by Abbey Ryan

Submitted to Contest #145

Note: This story contains sensitive content relating to mental health and pregnancy loss. She sets a black box with a big ribbon on the dinner table. It’s the kind of box that fancy stores put expensive clothes in, but I’m engrossed enough in my phone that I don’t really look up. She wants me to look up. Probably wants me to guess how much she spent on the box’s contents, but I don't do it. She clears her throat and I keep chewing my dinner, concentrating on what’s happening on my phone screen. I place my final fork-full of food into m...

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Author bio

In 2025, I've set myself a requirement: be more creative for the sake of creativity, and not for the purpose of it being "good." Leave a comment if you like! Let's be creative friends :)