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Adelyn Wilmoth

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2025

Stories (5)

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5 Stories

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To Eat or Not To Eat: I Wish That Wasn't A Question

Submitted to Contest #296

No one ever said fighting demons was easy, and man, they weren’t lying. It’s like having a devil and an angel on opposite shoulders, each shouting their conflicting desires back and forth and back and forth. And on and on and on and on. Not one of them stops until I make a choice, and even then, sometimes the defeated one still pierces my ears with guilt. The defeated one, I’m usually referring to the angel…often times I let me demons win. But not this time. I promised my wife I wouldn’t give in, and in return, she promised not to by a healt...

5 likes

A Tale of Twisted Minds and Warped Realities

Submitted to Contest #296

If I hadn’t killed her, maybe I’d still be alive too. Not brain dead. Not fighting the thoughts that trap me in an insane asylum with no hope of escape but death itself. It’s like hell, but a whole lot worse. The fire is hotter. The pain is deeper. The chains are tighter. It’s worse when hell is in your mind. Tormenting. Whispering all the possibilities you could’ve taken and should’ve taken. Haunting you with the memories of failure upon failure upon failure and the life you could’ve been living. It’s worse when hell relentlessly targets th...

4 likes

Does Beauty Live in Broken Shades of Grey?

Submitted to Contest #292

Everyone says it’s a miracle I’m alive, but I can’t imagine anything much worse. Each day, I give thanks to that car crash for the pain it bestowed upon me. For the sickening sympathy from friends and family. For the exhausted Uber lady who carelessly drove me to work every day just to rob me of my paycheck. And did I mention how the world wasn’t made by a god of creative beauty but rather printed on a thin, white paper from a HP LaserJet? As Frank Sinatra says, “That’s Life." Now I have to learn how to deal with it. With the pain. The broke...

3 likes

A Nightingale's Kiss

Submitted to Contest #290

Everything inside of him told him to kill, but he didn’t. The earth quaked and tore a horrid scream from its soul so that the blood in his veins curdled. Its skin burned, caught flame by the savage murderers on their ruthless pursuit. Chunks of dirt showered down on him, and suffocating smoke billowed from the blackened trees. The river was close. He could help her escape there. Another bang shattered his concentration. He ran, his heart beating out of his chest while his sweaty hands gripped tightly to the hauntingly cold rifle. It should’v...

3 likes

The Cyclic Artist

Submitted to Contest #289

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. Like the character of a beginning storybook, I’m surrounded by blank canvasses just waiting for divine inspiration. The white walls scream at me, the absence of colour irritating them beyond belief. Their voices call me the artist, but why? Am I the artist, or a detective in search of clues? I turn around slowly, spying at the blank walls. But there’s nothing. No way in. No way out. The walls are flat and empty. A haunting feeling infuses my inner being as I find myself staring at these wa...

6 likes