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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022
Fiametta clenched the linen sheet draped around the painting. Where in God’s name was he, she thought – or rather, His Excellency? Out of the corner of her eye, Fiametta could just spot her manager, Signore Giulio, glancing at his pocket watch. Fifteen minutes after noon had come and gone. Though His Excellency had demanded that Fiametta complete the portrait in a bare two weeks, it seemed that Bishop A...
Note: story contains brief use of coarse language Erica jolted at the bright flash in the cabin’s bedroom – was it lightning? She blinked around the dim, moonlit space, expecting a crash of thunder. Nothing; only the twittering of mountain bluebirds greeted her. She stole a quick glance at Barry, still slumbering beside her. Another quick glance went to her phone’s weather app: th...
Gisella di Vallepietra sat, as gracefully as she could, on the embroidered padding of the stool before her instrument. She brushed off her silky skirts, and threw (yet another) anxious glance around the two dozen guests now ambling to their seats in her father’s gilded sitting room. Signore di Vallepietra rarely threw such ornate dinner parties – he could barely afford their ornate Venetian villa as it was – but Gisella ...
Milos wasn’t a particularly smart boy; everyone in Samundzhievo (his mother included) admitted as much. He knew that he had been born in the Year of Our Lord, Sixteen-Hundred and Forty-Two. The priests had told him that; they would know, after all, since they could read and write. According to his mother, that meant he was ten years old – practically a man – and that he had better start behaving like one.
Content Warning: references to domestic violence Rhonda Pruitt was stupefied as she sat down on her kitchen barstool and slammed her elbow onto the laminate countertop. The letter trembled like a dried leaf in her hand, but her watery eyes fixated on the return address label: Thomas L. Campbell Partner, Campbell and Custis Associates ...
Content Warning: religious trauma Melanie cringed as Cassie’s shrill voice rippled through the wood-paneled living room. “All right, ladies!” Cassie called out to the little clucking group of ladies before her, her back bent precariously over the silver DVD player that her husband had just bought for her. She had to have it for the Ladies’ Wednesday Night Bible Study; naturally, s...
Jesse never heard the knock at the door, the gentle clink of the ceramic pot on his doorstep, or the Ford pickup truck rolling off into the distance. For all he knew, the potted plant which he could barely spot through the gauzy window curtain had descended from on high, a little blessing from the Almighty himself. In that case, He could have just sent Jesse some rain instead. But Jesse would never look askance at a gif...
Author's Note Regarding Sensitive Material: this submission contains discussion on the struggle of infertility. I peer anxiously at the silver spigot of the decanter as I top off Aunt Marge’s glass of sweet tea, wary of a single droplet escaping through that precarious seal on the teal glass. Today has to be perfect, and heaven knows that the last thing a beautiful buffet table needs is three g...
I am an aspiring historical fiction author looking to get my debut novel published.
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