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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2020
Submitted to Contest #103
I met Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams, and many other things. I met him, and he was lovely. I had just gotten off work, leaving the building and waiting to cross the street. I was fatigued, and it showed horrifyingly on my pallid face. When the light turned red, I crossed alongside other pedestrians, with my eyelids sunken and my muscles aching with every movement I made. Deciding that I had already crossed the street, I lifted my gaze, but not quick enough because I collided with someone. I knew it was a person because they grabbed ...
Submitted to Contest #81
I remember meeting him. His skin, the color of castor oil, turned my heart to water, and quickly, my tongue yearned for a taste of sweet chocolate. My soul became wrapped around his finger in an instant, and dearly I wished for him to hold it within his arm. Pamper it. Clear its blinded eyes of the darkness engulfing it by flashing his visage, for he had the face of the sun—golden and coruscating. Unknowingly, I stilled in my seat, and my tongue froze. It was as though love shook my core and wrapped its hands—cold as sand—around my throat. N...
Submitted to Contest #77
IT WAS AROUNDÂ mid-winter when they found Oliver. His body was the color of the snow coating his half-naked frame. His orbs were contracted, and his lips were shriveled and pale from the aridity. One could only imagine the pain he went through before he gasped his last breath. Vincent gazed into the snow, his frame unattached to the crowd surrounding a corse. Agony. Remorse. These feelings settled within his heart the minute he found out that Oliver was no longer in sight. Slowly, he dragged himself towards the crowd, pushing his way t...
Submitted to Contest #68
Elliette flicked his tongue as he brought his freshly lit cigarette to his lips, drinking the silver-gray smoke. His eyes fixated on the lake in front of him. The stars seemed to bleed into the pitch-black liquid, like paint dripping down a canvas. The man's eyes were darkened and inscrutable, and his face emanated, not a drop of emotions. Leaning back into the beach bench, Elliette crossed his ankles and shut his eyes, drowning in the serenity surrounding him. The front door of the cabin slowly opened, and Romeo rubbed his eye, a yawn tum...
Aspiring author 18 St. Lucia
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