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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
The air was cold against her skin. Even her puffer jacket did nothing to ease the shivers that has been racking her body. She was trying her best to be discreet. She ducked behind the garbage truck, ignoring the acrid smell of trash. John was sitting in the corner under the pine tree with his soon-to-be wife, Cecilia. As usual, she was dressed impeccably even in harsh weather. Her glossy blond hair was adorned with pearls, and her face was covered in make-up that made her features sharper than they actually are. From her point of view, sh...
The heat, that thick scent of smoke. Tom loved it when something burns. He stood on the gravel reveling the view. It arouses him. That bright orange light was like a hand beckoning him home. Smoke filtered the screams, leaving only the quiet and the crackling sound of burning bones. When the fire had finally ceased. Tom felt a precipitous longing. It was like watching a loved one die. As he walked across the remains of t...
October 23rd is a special day for Marcia. She dressed in her plush denim overalls, sprayed a lavish lavender-scented perfume, oiled and twirled her hair into a nice clean bun and painted her lips with a cherry red lipstick. As she stared at the mirror, Marcia was surprised by how strong and fresh she looked. She hardly looked seventy-five. Perhaps it was her tall and slim stature.Marcia took the card laying on the table and read.Happy birthday, mom! We have an amazing surprise for you!
Henry still felt nauseous from the flight. His red-rimmed eyes throbbed rhythmically with pain, while his left knee felt numb from sitting eight hours on the plane. He walked towards the bathroom, his eyes scanning his own reflection. Shit, he looks like a man who just woke up and ran straight to the airport. He combed his thinning hair with his hands and straighten his tie. He needs to look presentable, he's an actor, a stage performer. He needs to look like one. Henry clutched at his chest. He didn't know why he felt so nervous, it's no...
C/W: Self-harm  There was something strange about Sylvia Bright. One moment she was at the cafeteria of New High School, chattering gaily with her friends. Then the next, she was hiding inside the bathroom stall and cutting her skin with a razor blade. It did not take long for Sylvia to be tracked inside the campus. By the time she was discovered and rushed to the emergency room, Sylvia was already struggling to remain conscious. The incident was reported to the school's administration office.  ...
If today was a great day, I would've been at my home tucked on my soft floral blankets, singing to an old Frank Sinatra music while lying paralyzed on my bed, and burning my mouth with a bottle of gin. But unfortunately for me, it isn't. I stepped on the marbled stairs my hand trailing on the steeled banister. With every step I took, I could feel my heart racking on my chest. I tried to calm myself by breathing through my mouth. Calm down, for goodness sake! I muttered while hiding my quivering&...
Now It was once a fine room, however narrow it was. The blue-painted walls were decorated with frames of smiling faces, medals of achievements hanged like glinting golds next to a large grinning poster of a handsome young man with black spiked hair. The window that was once a hole to the outside world was now filled with rows of rusty ironed bars. The girl stared lazily at the window gazing at the sliver of snow on the stool. It looked like the inside of Mr. Tommy, her teddy friend. It made her mouth dry, so she swallowed. She...
I am a changed man. Changed by which I no longer care if I die tomorrow or today. Changed by which I no longer crave for love or for hope. Changed by which I'm no longer a man but a caged animal on his verge of death. You would think my time in prison would help recover the last pieces of humanity left in me. But no. I had grown too old to bother. For half of my life, I was forced to repent for the mistake I made as a young man. Yes, I was young. I didn't know back then about the laws of the state. I know nothing about sanctions...
Barnum is a good man. Or at least he tries to be. He had made an oath to himself that from this day on, he will not ignore the homeless, the beggars, or even the miscreants. He would not deny them the help that they might need. He would sacrifice his time or even spend the last of his wealth to whoever asks for it. Barnum knew it was too much of an oath, but it was what he was for. He considered himself a hand. It was his purpose.  On the night of September 23rd, an old woman wearing a tattered robe c...
For 75 years of Carson's existence, never had he believed that such a thing as "colors" exist. He had read about it once of course, when his mama still used to tie his shoes. It was a book called "The Rainbow of Myth." For years, the idea about a multicolored arc across the horizon did nothing but dissipated Carson's faint hope about a scintillating world. He sat beside the door of his dingy cabin, his vision muddled from his sleep. His spectacle clouded by the morning mist. The cardigan stitched by his very own wife, Blessinda, rest her ...
At the age of 12, Natham had already filled a single piece of paper with his numbers of slaughter. He counted the list of names with his fingers but immediately gave up when he found out that even his own pair of hands is not enough. He stood in the midst of a messy pile of corpses, his eyes close as he inhaled the familiar scent of metal. Natham breathes it in like oxygen allowing its fresh scent to circulate unto his...
Freda Lavar sat in the midst of a dome-shaped chamber on a lavish red velvet seat ornamented with blue glinting jewels and gold lidded armchairs. A giant golden candelabra stood at the center of a long table where the twelve ministries sat with their backs on the mosaic walls. Freda Lavar scanned each of their grim faces. The extravagance of their coat did very little to hide the splinter of their age. Freda grimaced, crown laying heavily at the top of her head. Despite her superb splendor, she can’t help feeling like an unwanted cre...
Trigger warning: depictions of suicide  Gavel stood next to a crumpled corpse. Its head laying against a pool of blood, hair matted with its own gore. Its face a kaleidoscope of colors, white, red, blue, purple and yellow. Eyes gray like steel staring blankly at the starless sky. The dead lay on the dirt unworried, undisturbed, peaceful. It was a shame that he had to die like this, so easily. Gavel thought. Half of his body tilted on the other side. He looked like crumpled steel. Gavel gaze at the growling s...
If there's one thing that I miss...It's writing.
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