Amy Wright

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020

Stories (11)

11 Stories

234 karma pts

?

“Bill” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #139

“Grow up, kids” Mom said, her soapy hands on her hips. She had been doing dishes in the stained avocado green sink. “Mary, quit hassling your brother. Shawn, quit making fun of her hair. It’s perfectly lovely the way it is.”  I ran my fingers through my shoulder length blonde hair. Mom continued, “Now both of you kids out of the kitchen before I make you finish the dishes.” She turned back to the sink, her apron strings flapping behind her. We scattered out of the kitchen. Shawn went to his room in the basement with a stack of comic...

0 comments 0
Read story

“The Candy Store” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #133

I’d been hiking the Southwest Coast Path in England alone for a month and was so lonely I felt raw. I wasn’t hiking that day; I had hitched a ride to St. Ives with Dave, a surfer I’d met in a hostel in Port Isaac. The night before he’d introduced me to the Teletubbies while sharing a giant joint made with a cigar roller and offered me transport to St. Ives in his weed delivery van. So I took Dave up on his offer and was almost tearfully glad of his company. We didn’t talk much as we drove, but the companionable silence was almost as good. It...

2 comments 2
Read story

“The Artist” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #132

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Bernard. I haven’t been around much lately, mostly because my wife just wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. I’ve locked her in the closet for now though, so we can be alone. I’ve tried to be good, God, really I have. It’s just that everyone keeps getting in my way. They don’t know me, my God, they really don't.  They think they do, because that’s what I've wanted them to think. I’ve wanted to get out ahead of them, so when I strike they’ll never believe it was me. I spent years on this, God, you know I ...

2 comments 2
Read story

“Dead Julie” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #117

Everything was ready for the ritual. Pam had brought French bread for the offering; she said the yeast represented life. Julie-- dead Julie, not Julie M, who was very much alive-- dead Julie brought the stinking carcass of a roadkilled woodchuck. It was flattened in the middle where a tire had gotten it. This was meant to represent the finality of death. Except, of course, for Julie. Julie died on a balmy, sunshine filled May day as spring waned and summer lifted its wings.  She fell off a cliff in South Africa, her blue eyes wide and...

2 comments 2
Read story

“Caleb” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #116

“No! Caleb, put down that doll this second. We don’t touch other people’s things without permission. Apologize right now.” Caleb’s mom had one hand on her hip and was punctuating her speech with the other. Caleb noticed that her scrubs were wrinkled. Caleb did his best to look apologetic as he mumbled, “Sorry, Sherry. Sorry I took your doll,” though he didn’t feel sorry in the least. That Paw Patrol doll should be his, not hers. He picked at his worn tie dyed t-shirt and stuck out his lower lip, even though he knew he would be punished if ...

0 comments 0
Read story

“Vacation in Mexico” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #115

Jim stared at his phone. What had Ada been about to say when the connection failed? He dialed her number again and it went straight to voicemail. Jim hung up, then swore and called her again. This time he left a message. “Ada, are you ok? Just kinda worried about you, kiddo. Please call me.” He paused, then added, “It’s your Dad.” Jim put the phone down and tried to read an old issue of Time. He flipped on the tv just for company. His dinner, a cup of instant ramen and two microwaved hot dogs, lay uneaten on the weathered coffee table. A...

1 comment 1
Read story

“The Appleton Angel” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #114

“You wanna do something fun?” the man in a tight blue polo asked.  His small son shouted, “Yeah!” He was about four, with all the enthusiasm that age could muster. “Ok kiddo, let’s go on the super slides!’  Angel watched the man take the boy’s hand and walk off at a stroll. They were so cute, she thought, and sighed. She ran her fingers through her curly hair and stretched her long legs out in front of her. She leaned back on her bench to take in the whole scene.  The Appleton Carnival was in town over the long Labor D...

1 comment 1
Read story

“Driving Rain” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #112

Ford drove into the night, past one rainstorm and into another. He was driving through the driving rain, he thought. His brain was always coming up with cool stuff like that. He was pretty smart that way. His wife sure didn’t think so, though. She seemed to think he was an idiot, but she just didn’t appreciate his intellect.  He switched the wipers back on as fat drops started to hit the windshield. Whip-whap, whip-whap, whip-whap. The wipers caught on the off beats like a drunken drummer. They weren’t the best wiper blades; need to g...

2 comments 2
Read story

“Life in the Theater” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #66

Jenna looked up at the bored waitress, obviously pleased with herself. The waitress didn’t bat an eye when she repeated Jenna’s order. “One peach pie and a pot of coffee. Coming right up.” She shuffled away and Jenna smiled broadly at Carl, her wrinkled face falling into familiar lines. The edges of five brightly colored cardigans lined up in upside down triangles down her large, bare chest. Carl sighed. Jenna had been over-the-top so long that it had gotten boring. He knew she would eat a small amount of the food, then take it home for la...

1 comment 1
Read story

“Pickled” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #66

“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat,” Nick said. His perfectly ovalled nails glinted as he tapped them against the side of his sweating martini glass. “What doesn’t count?” Renee asked. “I’m going to eat the pickles, aren’t I?” Her short, wavy hair was disheveled and the expression on her round face was sour. She looked at the red lattice basket in front of her heaped high with fried pickles cooling into hardened grease. She stabbed one repeatedly with a cocktail straw. “Why did I enter this ridiculous contest?” She si...

0 comments 0
Read story

“Before the Bad Times” by Amy Wright

Submitted to Contest #63

They walked hand in hand through the orchard that was blazing with color in the dappled sunlight, sacks of apples in their free hands. Emily, with her long legs and tall, brown suede boots, had picked the delectable Jonathans that were too high for most people to reach. Liana had scampered under the low branches selecting juicy Granny Smith’s that hid under leaves and behind knobby branches. Her short, blonde curls shone and her cheeks were as red as the plump apples in her beloved’s basket.  “So what’s for dinner?” Liana asked, shuff...

1 comment 1
Read story

Author bio

Amy Wright has not written a bio yet!