Abigail Jarcho

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021

Stories (5)

5 Stories

94 karma pts

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“The Sunbeam Apocalypse” by Abigail Jarcho

Submitted to Contest #99

Alicia faced the mirror, staring with squinted eyes. For a few moments, she stood still, her hands hanging at her sides, her fingers wriggling nervously. Buying time for herself, she pulled her hair out from it’s constraints very slowly, and fluffed it. A crease in her hair just above her ears spoke of the long night in a cheaply-done bun. But, while she fixed her hair, throwing this lock that way and tucking and untucking strands behind her ears, she paid much closer attention to her reflection, looking and looking as if to get an answer wr...

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“Spit Take” by Abigail Jarcho

Submitted to Contest #98

“Abracadabra!” “Woosh!” “No, not like that, like this.” Lacey Saris spit on the ground, and, then, a foot above her head, she heard her mom twist the key in the lock. “See?” Lacey said as the door swung open. “What you were doing wasn’t real magic.” “Lacey —” said her mother warningly, but, rather than hurt, Lacey’s friends were now quiet with awe. “You do have a magic door,” whispered Ellie. Robert nodded, his eyes wide. “I told you,” Lacey smiled furtively and led the way in across the threshold, head held high. — — — — ...

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“Freaky Math Girl, Mr. Ribbons, and the Blood-Stained Bedspread” by Abigail Jarcho

Submitted to Contest #96

After the bodies had been removed, it was, once again, just a bedroom. The purple irises sat elegantly in their tall clear vase on the side table, towels were folded neatly on the writing desk, and the curtains were drawn in perfect pleats to let in the natural light. But the stains on the bedspread gave it all away that this room had been used. Crimson red streaks, browning by the minute, stood out on the white sheets like blazes, upstaging the grand, gilded oval mirror on the far wall from the door that the matron of the house had taken ...

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“The Risky Mountain Baby” by Abigail Jarcho

Submitted to Contest #95

Two stocky adults and their lanky teenage daughter lay collapsed on the side of a mountain. They had reached the part of the bike path that became nearly vertical, and their creaky old rental bikes had finally given — one chain snapped, a fender had slipped off another and rolled back down the trail, and another had, somewhere along the way, lost an entire handlebar. Here they were again. The lanky daughter, 16-year-old Laila, could not help but reflect on their long journey to these circumstances; They had taken the hardest way up the mou...

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“Black Sand Cowboys” by Abigail Jarcho

Submitted to Contest #94

“Easy. I’m not afraid of a volcano. And I’m good with ponies, anyhow.”“They’re not ponies, they’re —”“Look, I get that you’re all touchy about it, but, come on, this ain’t a horse.” The cowboy touched the brim of his baseball cap like a sombrero — the European rolled his eyes — and squeezed the horse with his shins, steering him to the right.“Callum don’t leave a dare,” said the other cowboy with a sly smile. He ran a hand through his bleached curls and turned his horse to follow Callum. The European was left to wonder disdainfully how Ameri...

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Author bio

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