Menu

Menu

Prompts

Contests

Stories

Blog

Directory

Contests

Magazine

FAQ

Abigail Romick

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020

Stories (24)

Comments

Library

234 Followers

386 Following

24 Stories

420 karma pts

?

Breaking Bonds

I always dreamed of becoming a Bonded, although I suppose it was always an innately flawed fantasy. Humans can’t be Bonded. My colleagues made that clear to me when I first set foot in the institution. It is, after all, the entities that are bound to us.When I was young, I found myself inexplicably drawn to their brief clips and snapshots, heroes and villains flashing across the television screen as my cheerios lay soggy and dejected in their bowl. It was never their brightly colored costumes, righteous speeches, or winning smiles that enthr...

2 likes

Mages and Magiavores

Bustling with students, the downtown area is alive with activity. People cluster in groups, talking and laughing in the autumn breeze. It smells pleasant, somewhat earthy with a tinge of cinnamon. I pass by a café, adding pumpkin spice to the mix. “Hey, Maya.” I stop, nearly having missed him. “Hey, Vic.” He’s hunched over his laptop again, his glasses slipping down his nose. He takes a moment to fix his glasses, brushing aside strands of shoulder-length black hair, before shooting me a goofy smile. “Heading to Jericho’s again?” I shrug. He...

0 likes

Mellow

Liam Bently crosses the street with a brown paper bag clutched to his chest. The slush sloshes with every step he takes. He would need to wash his slacks later, otherwise the gray slurry would stain the hems. It is a problem for a future him. For now, he just needs to make sure that Ms. Ferguson gets her groceries.He pads down the sidewalk towards the apartments. Pulling up his sleeve, he checks his wristwatch. She should be expecting him shortly.“Hey, hey, Liam.”Liam freezes, shoulders tensing, then he picks up his pace. He hears the s...

0 likes

The Best of Bugs

There’s the sound of glass shattering and the shriek of metal tearing before the hero finally arrives. His sandy-blonde hair is littered with concrete dust and is marked by a spattering of blood. A red-gloved hand clutches at his left ear, only partially obscuring the charcoal-like singe that took off part of it. One of her mechanisms must have clipped it. Bug smirks.The hero - Triumph, they call him - searches the rooftop with wild eyes. He jerks, nearly falling over the ledge upon seeing her. A hiss escapes through his teeth. He pretends n...

1 like

Neighborly

Percilla peeked out of the curtains, a thin-lipped smile crossing her face. The house across the street had gone up for sale back in May, the white and red sign sprouting up right beside old Miss Marta’s begonias. It had gone a month later. Miss Marta had been a lovely woman, always rocking and humming on that expansive porch of hers, but now it was time for someone new. Some excitement. The whistling of the kettle pulled Percilla out of her thoughts and away from the window. Pulling the thick curtain snug against the window frame, she set...

1 like

Seized

There is a dull ache penetrating my skull. I reach to rub my temples with...a gloved hand?I groan at the sight: shiny black with a blue band. Space navy.I never should have gone to Venatani, home of the workless and misfits. Exactly the targets of Entorian Space Navy. They send a few of their men out, prowling the streets and pubs for any of the unruly types. The ones that nobody will miss. They've done it before during previous wars, dropping the practice during peace times only to pick it back up at the next sign of conflict. One minu...

8 likes

Vivatrix (Part one)

“Aunty? Aunty, you here?” I call out, latching the apartment door behind me. A sigh comes from the kitchen, accompanied by the scrape of a chair against the wooden floor and the telltale tapping of Aunty Syan’s cane as she appears at the end of the hallway. Tired gray eyes linger on me before visiting the paper clutched in my hands. “Something you mean to show me, Aviva?” “Yeah, we’re doing another donation drive at school. It’s clothing this time. I would dig up my old stuff, but I left most of my stuff in the flat. So um…” I continue, ...

2 likes

Puppeteer

The cheerings of crowds were not new. The force in which my head was slammed into the ground, however, was.The force of the impact nearly cracks my mask in two as I skid across the ground. Had it not covered the entirety of my face I would be coughing up dirt. As it is, I’m contemplating slapping the looming caped figure above me. Allen. You probably know him as Staunch, yes the Staunch. The prick in white tights and spandex bodysuit. You probably own a t-shirt or two with his logo on it. Don’t lie, I know you do. Everyone does.He floats abo...

6 likes

Twile

Hasmie 34, 19725 Hello Mona, It has been far too long since we last spoke. I yearn to hear your voice again, not through the flimsy onsight hallo-projector, but in person where I can embrace you and our lovely daughter. How is our child, Monikla? Does she still dance in the twilight? Hasmie 37, 19725 Mikla, my love, It has indeed been too long. I was not sure if I was to be able to speak with you this mark. Your message got through the earliest hima of the morning, a miracle by Akani. The receptors have only been receiving th...

5 likes

Changing Cogs

My fingers gingerly stroke the emerald leaves of the precious orange sprig. Oranges, such vibrant little globes, watch me, playfully hiding behind Citrus sinensis leaves. I resist a chuckle. We almost lost them all. The trees with fruit like late day’s sun, struck down by a viroid. What something so small can do.I spare a glance towards the door. At one point I would have found the gaze of a guard. Now, all I find is a plain metal door, gradually abandoned by its most favorite and frequent of colleagues, as they came to trust me. I was a lev...

7 likes

Facades (Part Two of The Red-Eyed Boy)

I strangle the table with my white-knuckled grip. Sirens animate, wailing their dreadful tune. Screams ring out, echoing through the metal ship walls.This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is just a standard prison run. Pickup prisoners, secure prisoners, drop off prisoners. But no, now several of the most dangerous humanoids in the system are loose, on MY ship. They didn’t train me for this...well, that’s not what the file says, but...My first major run.A BOOM rattles the ship. The motion causes me to jerk, my spindly fingers releasing the de...

8 likes

The Core of Salvation

Keep digging, just keep digging. That’s what they said. Some last hope isn’t it? We're going to find a dead desolate core and then we're going to die like good little disposable boys and girls. “I can’t take it! I can’t take it anymore!” I yell, pulling my hands through my hair. When I let go I half expect to find clumps of matted black thatch. “Shut up, Hadar,” Versie calls out from the other side of the commons room, her gray-blue eyes not leaving the pages of that ancient book of hers. “We’re all tired, we’re all stressed, and it’s fine...

6 likes

Soul Walkers

There is a dull ache in my arms and core. I plunge my paddle into the inky black abyss below once more, setting off another round of ripples.“Here?” I ask my ‘partner’. She rests against the stern, never once offering physical aid. She pulls her gaze away from the water, watching me with silver eyes, illuminated by the flickering light of the lantern she holds. They flick to the water again and back.“No, further,” She says, unchanging in posture.“Mya-”“No names!” she says abruptly.“What?”“Say a name, boy, lose your tongue,” The cloaked girl ...

6 likes

The Wind Walker

“Legend has it there are beings, similar in appearance to us. These beings would live among us, unbeknownst to our people. They would be indistinguishable from us had it not been for a few key traits. The first trait is increased winds. When a wind walker stays in place for an extended period of time the natural wind will increase in strength and frequency. The second trait is the general fondness of heights. Wind walkers seek to be close to the sky, their true home. The third trait is the general enjoyment of wind and weather. They are f...

3 likes

The House Where Passion Lived

I watch inquisitively as the boy runs out of the house. His mud brown eyes leak a mixture of water, lipids, sodium, glucose, and some other substances. In his arms, he grips a package wrapped in old paper. He stops running, now a distance away. He turns back to the house. His breath is fast but slows, nearly halting. The wind blows through his hair, similarly colored to his eye, carrying its scent. Familiar, peculiar of a child, can not quite place...Ah, yes. I think as I see the glimmer of orange light. Kerosene. The little house, that lit...

6 likes