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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020
Xin couldn’t help noticing how wrong her judgments of the Supervisor had been. All detectives were instructed that the Supervisor was a decades-old uniform being, superior and godly to all. There were no pictures or altars in her name anywhere in Main Office, but that hadn’t struck Xin as weird until the Supervisor stood right before her. She stood, speechless, at the young woman who’d simply materialized into existence. Xin’s first thought was “is there a teleporter somewhere in this facility?”, and, “wow, she’s pretty”. Xin had never ...
Trigger Warning: mentions of suicide A/n: It kind of matches the prompt; I mean, it has a phrase that gets repeated a lot...Anyways, I hope you enjoy Part 3!! Once upon a time, there was a miracle and magic. The bombs had stopped raining from the skies, artillery stopped firing, and Mother Nature was slowly tending its blood-soaked grounds. Hospitals were full with soldiers from both sides (sides quite undefined at this point) opposite beds from each other, sharing the same wounds, their squabbling minds at rest to keep pace with their ...
Anything could work if it meant something. A sign--any sign--would do. Silas trudged forward, grumbling a string of unintelligible words even he himself couldn’t piece together. It shouldn’t have been taking this long for Ajax to find the exit. Annoyed, Silas grumbled some more and strode forward to where Ajax seemed to be rotating a map upside down, his eyebrows knit tightly in concentration. “Well?” Silas retorted, pulling at his faded black hoodie. None of this was fair. First, there was the signal for a meeting--hence the map--...
Submitted to Contest #102
“They are mindless reeds, drifting wherever wind guides them. They can grow under artificial sunlight if they believe it is real. What is real?-- they are not sure. And if we claim to have the answers, they’ll drift like lost sheep into our fence, put down their scythes and live in the world their brains have cultivated unbeknownst to them” -Only Chance Application, Page 70, Chapter 10 Xin was close, very close. The hum of old baseboard heating in the beach home vibrated with contempt, desire, a special secr...
If sprouting wings and learning to be an adult was anything similar to putting thoughts on paper, my parents would find themselves with a hopeless case of a child. I guessed it was because I never knew how to box in a category like the word growing. My parents told me lots of things about this day that was to come—the day I was set free. They told me lots of things along these lines—wisdom for a child who didn’t have a care in the world. Still, I attempted to put thoughts to paper, trying to make it big. Unfortunately, it never got any e...
Submitted to Contest #90
Nothing survives the air,Nothing except the tin metallic bones threaded through our heartsto help us breathe in tune with the skyWe’ve become machines, the blood parts of us belonging only to the airSometimes, I wonder if the air is already inside,clogging our minds with hopeless dreams of a shambled future. I don’t know how she laughs with the oxygen mask,tubes and wires and a cart attached to her tiny frameEach time she smiles, the fog shields her from her breath,but Ru always smiles and laughs,an emotion the rest of the world has for...
A small black box emerged on an Ipad the Oracle had positioned on her lap. She sucked her teeth anxiously, worried over the man on the other side of the screen, or the everchanging future, or both. Of course, she could put bits and pieces together of what would happen, but she still felt nervous. That was the strangeness of being an Oracle; she still felt surprised, still felt emotion. It was one of the tethers she had to the human world.“I plotted many evils and poisoned many minds, All-Knowing Seer.”The Oracle had many names, but Kade only...
Submitted to Contest #88
You’ll wake up in the morning and sleep at night. You’ll go to work, read sappy romance on Metro trains, and scream daggers at the radio. On sunny days, you’ll go on a walk and then eat a bar of chocolate afterward because that’s how you are.But that isn’t your story. The very meaning of “a story” can be controversial, but you won’t realize that until 2056, which is still an improvement since most individuals never get it at all. You see, understanding the future is like telling a story that hasn’t gotten written yet, and stories are words t...
The problem with being an apprentice to a trickster god is their multiple problems. First off, trickster gods have big egos, which makes them distinctly unlikeable, and their quarters are ungodly hot. Like, seriously. We live on the sub-second level of a basement, and underneath our room is a generator that powers the sky-hovering-operation-so-the-mountain-stays-in-the sky. Honestly, why Merlin doesn’t power it with his magic is a mystery, but all the gods think they’re too good for simple tasks, so guess who’s in charge of those tasks? ...
Submitted to Contest #85
That’s the thing about this city…it was once home to flying humans. The sun was a cracked yolk-shell, spilling crusty yellow and frosted blue across the skies. Plastic bags flit along with the dully quiet interstate, shed of anything except the squat fire extinguishers and sidewalks following its path. Imani followed the road, cracking her knuckles to break the silence which often made her cry rivers under the protective shade. Sometimes, as she walked, she kneeled to lift a smooth stone from the street. They may have been aimed at house...
Submitted to Contest #84
~ Eventually, you’ll get tired of looking at all the crumpled paper cluttering what used to be your desk. Eventually, the coffee you made for yourself in your tiny room will run out, and you’ll get frustrated for no specific reason. Eventually, you’ll wonder what day it is, because you forgot to check your calendar and you just want an excuse to be lazy for a while. Either way, you’ll end up questioning the world and its choices—not that I’ve made any significantly better ones. The family which lived here before were all-teeth...
She emerged from the cascading depths of the sea, buried within layers of sand and grit and crusted shells. Her hair was a dyed dark blue like the hungry ocean itself, thin and bony, unnervingly calm. And when she swam to shore under that cracked crescent-shaped moon, not a single drop of water clung to her sides. He was a thief and a possible murderer. She sucked up poisonous words and spat them back out unknowingly. Wherever he went, flames followed, licked up the shrapnel, and dissolved it into dust. She had wilted the seashore...
Submitted to Contest #82
You only get one chance at an introduction, so you’ve got to get it right. My once upon a time could begin as most princesses queens’ start out-in a tall locked tower with a palace with the girl staring into a mirror complaining singing…but I’m no girl and no queen, so I guess my once upon a time will begin with the sky. The sky is a rough black and blue bruise over the city, nothing much to look at from a distance, or through a window. If you squint close enough, there are two dots up there…a white one and another with a slight aubur...
Submitted to Contest #81
Trigger warning: mentions of suicide (but it isn't anything inappropriate)Dearest Aurora, Sometimes, I wonder if your name was a coincidence, that the gods came down from their perch in the skies and whispered in our parents’ ears. “Choose Aurora.” They would say that the lights would shape and dazzle the sky in the north as they do here, in a sort of chaotic way, like you. Chaos doesn’t always have to be bad, you know. I thought it would be best if you heard it from me, now that you’re here, watching. In a little pocket of my heart, I alway...
Submitted to Contest #80
“And if the sun were so bold as to lay down his arms and be cradled in her own, together they would cycle forever but never touch.”-Four-Part Moon CyclesShe was the one who made photocopies of flyers and carried rainbow-striped umbrellas. She played trumpet in the streets and flew like a phoenix darting over the shadows. She would toss pennies into fountains and dance in the rain. I was the one who stood back and painted on printer paper, the watercolor running arcs across the shadows. We must’ve watched it at least twenty times, restin...
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