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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021
Submitted to Contest #121
Curse men and their useless nipples. Every night I’m passed out by ten o’clock, something my husband never fails to jeer at me for. “You’re 22, you should be staying up past midnight. You’re no fun anymore.” I’m so exhausted, I could cry. My night shirt smells of spit up and body odor. Today was hideous, the toddler threw tantrum after tantrum. When I finally lost my temper, my husband said I shouldn’t yell at her like that and proceeded to explain how I ought to have dealt with the situation. If he is so knowledgeable then he should...
Submitted to Contest #117
 TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, Gore, Domestic violenceTravis slumps into the tattered recliner and kicks his feet up. Though the mud on his work boots will no doubt smear the fabric, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have the energy to remove them. There’s a knock at the door, but he ignores it. They’re just trick or treaters, he saw them on his way home.He shifts, trying to find a comfortable position in the squeaky, decrepit chair, and gazes longingly at the sofa. The mustard yellow shams wink at him, begging him to come and lay against its un...
Submitted to Contest #114
“You wanna do something fun?” I look up. I’d gotten distracted, tracing my fingers along the scar on my palm. “I said, do you wanna do something fun?” I blink my bleary eyes into action and shift in the direction of the familiar voice, but no one is there. There’s a tap on my opposite shoulder that sends goosebumps down my spine. I turn to see her beside me, grinning from ear to ear as if nothing about this is unusual. “Awe, don’t do that. You’re creasing up my perfect face.” I look down to find my hand clenched around the pamp...
Submitted to Contest #112
CW: suicide I shove open the office doors and stumble out into the blazing heat of Phoenix.“Hey, Peter,” a voice calls from behind and I curse under my breath. I was hoping to get to my car before he’d followed me downstairs.“Sorry, Carl, I have somewhere to be,” I pant, stealing a glance at him. His face is red, not from the heat, but from our boss yelling at him for the last 10 minutes.“Where have you got to be? You never go anywhere,” Carl protests, and then his voice lowers, “you kind of threw me under the bus back there, man.”“Sorry, Ca...
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