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Abigail F. Taylor

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2022

Stories (6)

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18 Followers

16 Following

6 Stories

162 karma pts

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A Bad Day

Abigail F. Taylor

Submitted to Contest #198

Mrs. Hasslebein rolled her eyes when the telephone on her desk began to ring. She snatched it up and wedged it between her round cheek and shoulder. She nodded once. Twice. She muttered, “Okay, thank you.” then returned the phone back to its cradle and began to write on a pink pad. The class began to unfold with a murmur. She stood and swung her big body forward, paper folded between two perfectly manicured fingers. “Andre,” she hovered, waiting for her victim to look up from the theater textbook. Andre did, eventually, wi...

7 likes

He Would Be Late for Dinner

Abigail F. Taylor

Submitted to Contest #171

Eagle's Nest, old and anemic, leaned above a rich and diverse canopy like a rotten tooth. Plastic KEEP OUT signs crinkled in the shallow summer air. Dan parked his pale blue Mazda beneath the structure's shadow and stared up into the dark windows of the third level deck. He remembered the summer night he and Crystal Novack watched the sun dip low behind the distant escarpments. Her short hair was licked up on one side and crisp from a day swimming in Big Lake and he twirled a thumb around it, like he was preparing to pull the winning part of...

12 likes

The Boneyard

Abigail F. Taylor

Submitted to Contest #169

Lightening cracked down in jagged points from the great tumble of soot-black clouds. A terrible rip in the air soon followed and the long fingers of light blinded Vera. She shrieked, bare feet colliding with an upturned stone, and thrust out her hands to break the fall. She sank into the mud coming off the graves. Cursing the old, mossy tombs that laid hidden in the weeds, Vera rolled onto her hip and sucked in the rich, damp air. She put a gentle pressure on her toes, checking for any break. Then looked for her shoes unsure if they'd slippe...

12 likes

Train I Ride

Abigail F. Taylor

Submitted to Contest #168

Shelley Glazen tapped her cigarette against a homemade ashtray. It was misshapen and cracked with age, but it had been her first attempt at art, the first time she fell in love with creating something with her own, rickety hands. Now, decades into her hobby, she found joy in teaching others at the community center. At seventy-three, Shelley was proof anyone could take up a skill and make something beautiful. She taught both throwing clay and Beginners' Drawing. “It's not about getting famous on the ticky-tock!” she said on the first day of c...

6 likes

I Will Lay Me Down

Abigail F. Taylor

Submitted to Contest #140

TW: Suicidal thoughtsWe were coming back from a day trip to Fallingwater and stopped to swim in a river that cut through the low-slung hills. After an hour of driving, our stepdad, Mark, a native to the general area, pointed out the windscreen. “Here! We can picnic just on the side.”Mom dropped her feet, from where they'd been sunning on the dashboard. She offered one of her signature, premeditated smiles. “How nice.”Beth, my sister, drab and dreary, huffed. Lately, she spent her mornings expertly patting her face ghostly with pale creams an...

18 likes

The Ever-Endless Earth

Abigail F. Taylor

Submitted to Contest #139

At last, the sun dipped bellow the scattered, brown horizon. Skunk Lowery raised his hand to it, curving his calloused fingers and cupping the orange shine, as though it were the pomelo he'd received for Christmas as a boy. The wild citrus smell was so beautiful that he didn't dare break open the skin, and he hid it under his rope bed like a buried treasure. Over time, it had turned rotten and bent in on itself, like the earth seemed to be doing now. Skunk dropped his hand and rubbed it against his trousers to clean the dirt off. He worried ...

13 likes