Amy Wannenburgh

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (7)

7 Stories

120 karma pts

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“Futures” by Amy Wannenburgh

Submitted to Contest #68

There is a slash of peachy, baby pink across the lake, speckled with yellow droplets of morning light. Nicole's been sitting here since 4am, and Thomas almost as long - she hauled him out of bed because she needed the company to take her mind off their first day of college.  Now, they sit on the brown grass, still in their pyjamas, feet dipping into the lake water as it sloshes up the bank. Behind them are the trees, wavering in the wind, and the crumbling house a few miles behind the forest. There is moisture in the breeze, carrying th...

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“Cocktail Memory” by Amy Wannenburgh

Submitted to Contest #11

She’s crying into her drink and the world keeps dancing. Like it always does, of course, war or no war. Tears or no tears. Not that she expects it to stop. But there’s a part of her that wants to be Margo in All About Eve - to lose it completely, let it all out in a rage, jump up, throw her glass at the shelf behind the bar, and scream into the face of anyone who will listen.Or maybe just cry into someone’s shirt. That will do, too. She sighs sharply, choked breath hissing through her lungs. She clicks her cracked nails on the glass and star...

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“Desperately Seeking Naomi” by Amy Wannenburgh

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #10

Matthew pushes open the door of the tiny apartment. Naomi’s leaning over a hamster cage by the far window, and she’s still in her nightgown, with her hair a tangled mess on her shoulders. Matthew frowns. “Door’s unlocked. You know that, right?” She shudders, and he sees the tears on her cheeks. “Naomi? Are you alright?” “It’s – it’s my hamster. Was.” “Was.” “My hamster died.” She mutters something under her breath and stands up briskly, seizing the cage by the handle. Matthew stands awkwardly in the doorway. “Well come in,” she says, an...

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“Flower Child” by Amy Wannenburgh

Submitted to Contest #9

“Come here,” Nanny said, and deposited a fistful of wild oleanders in my tensed palm. I just stared at them. The breeze tickled my neck, whisked my loose red hair around my shoulders. Beside me, my little sister, Lacey, giggled, and snuck her tiny feet into the ripe soil, soft white hands flailing in the air. But Nanny was patient – she didn’t toss the flowers to the ground and carry me back inside the house to the raging voices and slamming doors and the cowering servants in the shadowy corridors. No, she waited. She wanted me to focus on t...

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“Little Coins” by Amy Wannenburgh

Submitted to Contest #5

Alice had seen many men come through her door. She had learnt to read them, just as she had learnt to detach her mind from her body and what was being done to it. She’d learnt when to lead, when to guide, and when to stay silent. She was never just Alice – she was a fantasy, she was whatever the man in front of her wanted to be. Most importantly, she’d learnt to live for the money Miss. Lison handed out each morning. It kept her alive. It was all that mattered. It had to be. She worked at night, at Miss. Lison’s “parlour” as it was call...

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“Where We Were” by Amy Wannenburgh

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #3

There is a teddy bear, fluff oozing from its patchy stomach, sprawled in the dust on the cement floor. One eye has been ripped out. It is tiny, and it is alone. I shouldn’t have come here. Sam stands near the front door, eyes watching my every move, hands fidgeting at her sides as if she’s about to lunge forward and drag me from this place. Maybe she will. Maybe I’d let her. I glance back at her. “You can come in.”She shifts on her feet, biting her lip. Her eyes skit right through me and scale all four walls around us before she answers. “I’...

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“Because Of Her” by Amy Wannenburgh

Submitted to Contest #2

The house is tiny tonight. The walls are caving in on me. The ceiling, peeled paint revealing the spotty bricks beneath, swarms above me. I will vomit again. I feel my chest constricting, the swell of nausea throbbing up my body. I crawl to my knees, wrench over. But nothing comes. I sag there, breathless, sweat soaking my flesh through my thin clothes.Moonlight glints through the window. For a moment the carpet is illuminated. I see the red stains and puddle of vomit. The moon’s glare casts a bruised haze over my ripped, dirty shirt. My han...

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Author bio

Copywriter | content creator | INFJ. I always have a story in my head.

Shortlisted 2 stories ⭐️

Contest #10
Desperately Seeking Naomi – read story
Contest #3
Where We Were – read story