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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020
Submitted to Contest #75
'Will you continue your work, child?' Misthael asked me, not for the first time. 'Will you accept the commission, Will you carry the message of healing and hope?' 'I will go back', I said, 'But first, show me how it all works.' This wasn't my first near death experience, And I was done with pondering 'why', If they wanted to keep doing this to me, They were going to give me some answers. At the beginning of every year of my life, ...
Submitted to Contest #72
Henrietta Van Pelt stretched languidly on the rattan deck chair. The cool breeze coming off of the Persian Gulf Coast to her right hand side tasted of coquitos and salt. Chills rose on her arms as a cloud scudded overhead, the first of many to rush in fill the horizon in the late afternoons at this time of year. It was monsoon season, which meant that anyone who'd ever been caught out in the thundering rain took notice of that single flicker of shadow. The brief chill it brought was like ice-water in the faces of the lo...
Submitted to Contest #59
This is the story of the day I died. It was not my first death, nor would it be my last, but it was the one that stands out from the crowd as the first time I saw the face of my Angel. Let me preface it by telling you about the first time I heard her voice. I was two years old. In my Grandmother's old Victorian, 6 bedroom house, there was a narrow doorway on one side of the dining room. I was standing on the thick, navy blue carpet, the smell of Murphy's Oil soap clogging my nose. The massive oaken dining table and matching chairs...
Submitted to Contest #48
This is my prophecy. I was in a meeting room at the Oak Hill Community Center, when a tiny sliver of a woman stood at a podium. Her head was barely visible to the people in the fellowship. A sign reading Superheroes Anonymous hung behind her on the wall. With her auburn hair in a messy bun, and dressed in an oversized red silk wind breaker, blue jeans, and sneakers, she was ageless. Slender as a rod, it was easy to imagine her blowing away in a stiff wind. 'My name is Berdi and I'm a superhero.' Along wi...
Submitted to Contest #47
You live a torturous life. The pains and indignities that you've been forced to deal with in this physical realm have left your body disabled. You suffer more pain moment to moment than many people will ever know in their lifetime. You have hung in there through perseverance. You have been training this whole time. You possess special skills that you would never have been able to access without the series of events that led you here. This is your sign. I am writing this to you, my Dear Reader, to notify you that your time ha...
It seemed like just another day. You got up and ate breakfast. You turned on the news, and were shocked at the continued unrest and rise in cases of covid 19. You scrolled through your facebook and shook your head sadly at the apparent stupidity of so many of the people that you had always considered to be reasonable and intelligent. You checked your email and decided to write in your journal. This is your journal entry for today, June 21, 2020, Midsummer, the day that follows the s...
Submitted to Contest #45
Nizhoni sat in the middle of the small living room, her eyes glued to the TV screen. A war raged within her, between horror at the violence and exhilaration fueled by hope that this all may lead to a series of serious government reforms. The protest was spurred by yet another case where police brutality was excused and innocent people died. These events had always happened, but with the ability to share anything with the world while it was still happening, they became part of the public awareness much more quickly.'...
Today, I'd like to talk about how stories can and do change the world. A good example of this is shining on the streets of the world, as protesters line up day after day to stand up against the tyranny of an abusive mentality in the police force. George Floyd's story matters. Just like the stories of countless others, it's a tragedy. We may not hear them all, they may not all register with us or strike a chord in our hearts, but these stories have been playing out across the globe since the dawn of humanity. When there is power to...
Ninety-six years old, Berdi Daniels hobbled out onto the stage. With every step, the staff that she leaned on shook in her withered hand. I watched with bated breath, half afraid that she would fall before she reached the podium that had been set up in her honor. It was June 5, 2070, the fiftieth anniversary of the great uprising. As someone who was very young at the start of the Global Revolution, I had often been jealous of those that had been present and active in the fight. I hadn't stopped to consider that like all ...
Submitted to Contest #44
I don't remember what was on TV that night. I sat in my recliner with my computer on a tray over my lap. I looked over at the window, and reality fractured. I saw the moments of my life, like playing cards scattered into the air around me. They jostled and overlapped like pieces of glass in a kaleidoscope. I stared, entranced, and then realized I could sort through them. As I watched, a moment would come closer, and then another would jostle it out of place and become clear. I tried to get a grip on reality, and instead I saw ever...
She moved like poetry in motion, all the grace of years of dance training making every gesture seem practiced and polished and perfect. The kitchen was bright and sunny. Light gleamed from the clean surfaces, and sparkled in Alice's cerulean eyes. She put two spoonfuls of sugar in each teacup, stirring three times clockwise and three times counterclockwise. She brought the cups to the patio table, handing one to me. "It's my homemade blend." "Mmm, my favorite." I smiled and took the cup, breathing the mixed scent of black...
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