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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2020
Submitted to Contest #52
Papa always said I was the splitting image of Mama. We share the same square jaw, flat nose, thin lips, pale skin which crinkles and burns in the sun. Papa says my eyes glimmer like Mama’s too, says they look like two blue pearls. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a pearl, or a clam, or the sea. Papa says one day when I’m old enough, he’ll take me there—somewhere where I can dip my feet in water, feel the waves catch between my toes. It’ll be just the two of us, far from this little town. Mama thinks I daydream too much. “This town,” she likes...
Submitted to Contest #47
You looked out the window and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been. The sun’s brilliant rays ravaged the flowers you had planted in the spring, despite weather reports claiming summer was going to be milder than last year. Weather reports have, over the last seven years, continued to be optimistic about a reduction in global temperatures. Without a wide brimmed hat and plenty of sunscreen, it’s a nightmare to leave your front door.It’s quite a shame, really. The sun has its natural fluctuations after...
Submitted to Contest #46
Sixteen shots of espresso. Two mental breakdowns. Thirteen missed calls and forty unread messages. All for what?I glance at a manuscript buried under a mound of eraser shavings and bits of toasted almonds—shut up, I know I’m a mess. You don’t have to say it.Sunlight flirts through undusted window curtains, an irritating reminder the night is over. To make it worse, my brain repays my sleepless night with a painful migraine. God, I really don’t want to go to school, but I doubt I have a choice. Maybe I’ll call in a sick day? Take so...
Submitted to Contest #45
Sisyphus’s knees buckle under the weight of the boulder balanced between his palms. His feet sink into the earth, welcomed by pebbles which tear through his calloused skin. He ascends with each step, only for the boulder to fall and for him to chase it. ***A group of students raise their picket signs. They are from this city, many dressed in red and yellow bandanas. They march through the streets, collecting scorn and little praise.“Go back to the countryside,” a storekeeper says. He does not know they live only a few blocks away. ...
Submitted to Contest #42
“What do you want from me? Do you want my savings, my house, my job—” “What makes you think I’m interested in your money?” “I don't know. All I know is that I can—” “I want you.” “What?” “More precisely, I want what makes you, you.” “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean. I offered you my belongings. Isn’t that what makes me, me? Isn't that what's valuable?” A pause. My heart thumps against my chest like fireworks. I plunge my hands into my hair, pulling at my scalp like weeds. Their face meets mine for the first time, a prof...
Submitted to Contest #36
April 18th, 2016 It was Timothy’s birthday today. He told everyone days prior it wasn’t a big deal, no presents necessary, no cake necessary, no public spectacle. Yet today he was sad, sad that presents were poorly wrapped, sad that a cake was not present, sad that people didn’t congratulate him. I tried to bake him a cake. It wasn’t very pretty. The crumbs rubbed against my mouth like gravel when I tried a sample. Would he still have appreciated it if I had still given it to him? Or would he have thought less of me? He looked disappointed ...
Submitted to Contest #34
Every morning a choir of birds sing outside on the conifer trees. Their songs scatter through the sky like beads, adorning the wind’s monotonous drone. I like to believe I can identify some of the performers. After all, each of them sing a song that’s been passed down for generations. Do you remember how we used to wake up? The way the first thing we heard each morning was our alarm clocks which had the tenderness of a jackhammer? The way the first thing we saw each morning was the flickering bedroom light we neve...
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