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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019
Submitted to Contest #156
Don’t you remember? I was young, and the sun was yellow on the grass. We were chaotic children, traipsing with scraped knees and bulging pockets, in the meadow between the library and the brick museum with the two-headed lamb. I don’t remember the other tents on the edge, but I remember the cool of the shadow as I sat crisscrossed, slowly peeling leaves from the grass, as I listened. I don’t remember her face or her voice, but I remember the softness of her sheep and the warm wood of her wheel. And she gave us a clump of her wool to keep....
Submitted to Contest #75
Exit AgencyHalf down. No refunds. Prices vary by customer. Contracts sacred.--And of course, it’s a parking ticket, because that’s how Simon Barell’s day/week/life goes. It’s just the way the joke would go. He gets in, rests his forehead on the wheel for just a few seconds, just to breathe, before looking at the paper to see how much money he’s going to lose and how much his wife is going to yell at him.There’s a card that slips out. White fancy paper with shimmering gold script: Leave It Behind: Exit Agency- Half do...
Shortlisted for Contest #60 ⭐️
The world was over and they were not. It did not matter how. The reporters, videos, and politicians had all argued and pointed blame, but they hadn’t listened. They were young and powerless so they decided not to worry. And after everything fell, it didn’t matter what happened first. They were tired, hungry, and wanted a hot shower, but they were not over. They were lucky, they knew, but that is logic. And logic is not much good for slim stomachs or heavy eyelids. They had been hungry almost until t...
Submitted to Contest #57
His job was boring. Paid well, but boring. But sometimes the people could be interesting. He peeked out at the waiting room at his 3 pm appointment. She was early, arrived at 2:25 pm. She wasn’t much. His receptionist said she had been almost impossible to hear on the phone. Her clothes were wrong. Borrowed, maybe, but no, they seemed too new. Stiff,...
Submitted to Contest #47
"Just say it," you silently reminded yourself. You knew you'd regret it if you didn't. It would be one of those shower arguments with months-old, years-old regrets. And the hot water could never appreciate the comebacks that had simmered so long. Not again. Not this time. You could just walk away. Just walk away and keep your mouth shut. Be good. Be respectful. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. That was what you were always told. Be polite. Always so polite. You don’t like fighting, don’t lik...
Submitted to Contest #42
Once upon a time, there was a father and a girl who did not want to go to sleep. So, the father rubbed her back as she curled up next to him and he told her a story. She liked the ones of other worlds best, of worlds inside puddles, of little girls walking under snowy lampposts. Of great quiet people who could bottle starlight. Of little people with tails who carried needles as rapiers. And the girl would listen, eyes closing so she could see it better. See the mocking mirror crackling and the sh...
“Well, are you ready to thank God for the damn spotted blinds and all the ducks on the pond?” someone asked as he squinted himself awake. The bright light hurt. He felt horrible. And he wasn’t dead. Right now, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was in the hospital. Ryan stared at the stranger at his bedside. There wasn’t much to look at really. Bright red beanie, ratty grey turtleneck, long black feathered bangs with a silver stripe, covering most of his eyes. “Who are you?” The boy closed his book, “You call me Ke...
Submitted to Contest #40
She was always waiting for good-bye. Her room changed. Different bed, different windows, different scenes. Bontoc mountains with green rice terraces, clothes waving from red rebars sticking out from flat concrete roofs, pig squeals, roosters competing, and the boy who played guitar. Shanghai lights, tall buildings, a golden fish pond, magnolias, and if the smog wasn’t bad, the Pearl Tower pinch-tall in the distance. Bright Honduran houses, cowboy men with big hats and long machetes, a tethered donkey waiting with a load of coffee f...
Submitted to Contest #35
The most surprising thing about Amari was that she was never surprising when he was with her. It was only afterwards when he was trying to think of words to describe her, if he ever were to tell anyone. He always called her a girl, but said out loud, that sounded like a five-year old. She was as tall as one of the young women who danced every Friday night in the village. She was far older than that though she didn’t look it and she never counted. Still, the word “girl” stuck in his mind. She was a pretty girl, rich a...
Submitted to Contest #34
My drop is losing. I want to tap the glass but that would be cheating. I do not cheat, not even when I am at home alone. It quivers, raising my hopes… Finally.. But no, it stays in place. Its neighbor is slowly slipping down when it bumps into another raindrop, absorbs it, and together they race down to the windowpane. Why do they never go straight down? They always leave behind a zig-zag trail, like sleepy liquid lightning. The glass is smooth. I don’t understand. My drop shudders, then fina...
Submitted to Contest #23
Lovely grew up in terraced mountains yellow with Christmas sunflowers. “It’s kinda funny,” Amanda said, as they walked the SM mall together. “What?” Lovely asked. “The song,” she said.Lovely didn’t understand at first. Perhaps it was the timing. Christmas music started in August. Amanda waited unti...
Submitted to Contest #20
He is good with knots. Not tying words together, not putting them so they make sense, not connecting people, nothing figurative or important. But he’s good at knots and string. He makes loops, pulls string through, tightens. Words come thick and fouled like retching molasses.She is looking at him again, tapping her fingers. He knows she is going to call his name.He makes another loop, grasps the string, feeds the end through, pulls it, tightens.When he was young, he was the first to learn how to tie his shoes. He wou...
Submitted to Contest #19
You could easily go past it. It is a drab little building, built right under the bridge. It has mottled walls of brown, grey, and tan bricks, darkened by the exhaust from the cars going by or floating down from the road above. Apparently, windows had been used to fill in any gaps in the wall. It was the only logical reason for their scattered position and mismatched styles. But if you go through the black door with the bright yellow trim, they say that you will find help. It doesn’t look like it. It’s just...
Submitted to Contest #16
Bounce. Pick up one. Catch.He had the wrong name. “Ethan” was supposed to be strong.Bounce. Pick up two. Catch.Or maybe he was just the wrong person. Perhaps if his mother had given him his own name, instead of an Old Worlder name, it would have better. He could have made his own meaning.Bounce. Pick up-Madik!He almost said a swear word he learned from his visit with the Masari. He hadn’t, he had stuck to his mother’s own “exasperation word” of “I don’t like” but he almost had. Maybe his people were ri...
“Don’t go into the woods,” they said. Do not go under the emerald leaves, do not venture on the twisted paths. Fools see a shortcut; wise men went around. Strange things lurk there. “Stay in the light,” they said. The shadows move. If they catch you, if they touch you, they will steal your shape and leave you flat. “Don’t trust the beautiful,” they said. Don’t look at their faces, beautiful women though they seem, or their eyes will trap you. Look behind. They have no backs. Hollow they are and they are al...
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