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Acadia G

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2025

Stories (4)

Comments

Library

2 Followers

2 Following

4 Stories

46 karma pts

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The Lost & Found

Acadia G

Submitted to Contest #295

The Lost & Found was nestled among hundreds of other stalls in the bustling marketplace, but something about it never failed to draw attention. It wasn’t bold or colorful like its neighbors, it didn’t waft delicious smells or boast a loud, exotic merchant. Instead, it was simple and elegant, made of old rotting wood and smelling faintly of something deliciously unnatural. The structure was sturdy, a deep awning stretching over the front, draped in newly bought creams and golds (these cloths were likely the only thing “new” about the p...

3 likes

I Have Loved You

Acadia G

Submitted to Contest #290

His darling daughter was soft and lovely and delicately strong. Her eyes gleamed like the stars, and her skin glowed like a sunrise. Her hips curved gently but were never too proud to allow a child’s arms to wrap around them. Her tender hands were never too vain to help a stranger up. Her voice was never too arrogant to murmur a kind word. He adored his daughter more than anything on this earth and provided everything she needed to flourish. He saw her stumbles, her struggles, her moments of unkindness, and though his heart ached for her, he...

7 likes

The Lost & Found

Acadia G

The Lost & Found was nestled among hundreds of other stalls in the bustling marketplace, but something about it never failed to draw attention. It wasn’t bold or colorful like its neighbors, it didn’t waft delicious smells or boast a loud, exotic merchant. Instead, it was simple and elegant, made of old rotting wood and smelling faintly of something deliciously unnatural. The structure was sturdy, a deep awning stretching over the front, draped in newly bought creams and golds (these cloths were likely the only thing “new”...

0 likes

Summer

Acadia G

Submitted to Contest #288

A whoosh of air freed itself from the young man's lips, a gentle breeze softly mimicking him. The sun was warm on his face and stray pieces of hay tickled his damp skin. Summer.An ache coiled in his lower back, retrieving him from behind the red haze of his closed eyelids. He reached for the pitchfork he had propped against the wall, his calloused hands wrapping around the smooth wood of the handle. He set to work filling stalls with golden, prickly straw, an easiness about him that the world rarely saw. The steady crackling of the dried ste...

6 likes