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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2023
Submitted to Contest #207
There was screaming. Waves of unbridled adoration from a crowd of youthful faces. Ivana. Ivana. Ivana. The name rose like a symphony amongst the people, while she and I basked in the glow of spotlights. Vibrant pinks and purples blended, dazzled the stage and the pop icon herself as she sang to her heart’s content. Overshadowed the heavy cheers flooding the stadium. Cheers meant and made for her. Hours upon hours passed of jaw-dropping melodies, pop songs transitioning to ballads, silence to applause. Then she would rile the crowd ...
Submitted to Contest #205
**As well as self-harm, this story deals with some sensitive details of blood and slight gore** The dull burn along my non-existent veins is a familiar feeling. A trailing blaze that comes and goes with each repeating cycle. A call that pulls me from the depths of this pit despite the ache it brings me. What hovers around me is a pitch blackness I have grown used to, lit only by the faded white glow emanating from my skin, if one can even call it such. This “body” of mine - these empty sights and the sensations that accompany them. They ...
Submitted to Contest #204
The dirt was dried up beneath my feet as I felt the sun's heat bake my skin. I lifted an arm to swipe the sweat along my forehead, looking up with squinted eyes at that damned ball of light in the sky. God, could sure use some rain about now. “We have water.” I’d said those words out loud. The voice beside me was melodious in my ear, and I turned to see a warm smile greeting me that I then returned. “Not quite enough.” “You whine a lot for a married man.” “Last I checked, you agreed to marry that man.” “Silly me.” Georgia laughed, ...
Submitted to Contest #203
“You have to stop.” Clayton’s head pounded, filled with an intense ringing that made it nearly impossible to focus on the man before him. Outside, a heavy downpour watered the streets of Sturgis, thundering upon the warehouse roof above him. Enough to create a soundproof barrier so that any unlucky bastard wandering outside would be none the wiser. And there Clayton was – thirsty, starved, and sitting in a wooden chair, wrists wounded by a thick rope restraining them behind his back. “Stop stalling. Stop crying out for help. Stop...
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