Ariel Searcy

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021

Stories (5)

5 Stories

111 karma pts

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“The Tin Box” by Ariel Searcy

Submitted to Contest #133

Annaleigh is standing underneath the willow, peering towards the house as the branches of the tree coincide with the whipping of her long copper hair against the wind. The baby blue paint is peeling away from the old body of the farmhouse, falling onto the sun bleached flooring of the wrap-around porch. Although she stands twenty feet away, she can still hear the dissonant rattling of the fan blades that hang lazily above the line of rocking chairs facing towards the east side of the house. Sucking the last ember of her cigarette before thro...

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“Auntie Carolyn” by Ariel Searcy

Submitted to Contest #131

I'm reclined in my shotgun seat, headphones in with the music cranked loud. Passively watching the clouds fall behind us through the open sunroof. My mother is sitting next to me, softly humming along to the timid whistling of the wind seeping in from the cracked window. The summers are hot and dry in Oklahoma city, but I've heard it's nothing compared to the sticky, mosquito infested niche that is Jefferson, Louisiana. I curl my fingers tighter around my phone, clicking the volume button impulsively in hopes to drown out the intrusive thoug...

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“Southern Belle” by Ariel Searcy

Submitted to Contest #130

Sensitive content warning: Strong language, topics of emotional abuse, suggestive sexual themes A somber blue undertone permeates my home as early winter morning unapologetically sets in. I stand in my front room, basking in the whimsical sight of frost glistening against the awakening sun. There's a slight chill seeping through the window pane. I shiver slightly, wrapping my cardigan tightly around myself as I sip on my hot coffee. Moments later, the wood flooring creaks and pops under the weight of my love as he hops down the steps, em...

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“An unexpected guest ” by Ariel Searcy

Submitted to Contest #128

A little quaint diner sits nestled along the treeline of the rich evergreen forest of West Virginia, standing in defiance against the kudzu slowly wrapping it's suffocating arms around the sickly green exterior. The soul occupant, a young Diane Henderson, stands behind the counter in her white apron and baby blue flair dress. All of the customers have since gone home, leaving her to her nightly ritual of hot tea and reading before it's time to lock up and go home herself.  Diane places a tea kettle on the stove, her back against the b...

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“We don't cry over boys” by Ariel Searcy

Submitted to Contest #126

Using my straw, I casually swirl the ice cubes inside my cocktail as tears silently run down my cheeks and onto my black velvet dress. The bar is busy with the rustle and bustle of happy, boisterous souls celebrating the conclusion of yet another long year. Ted, the bartender, walks by and asks if I'd like another. I lazily nod my head and finish the last few sips that remained in front of me.  A few moments later, he returns with a fresh beverage. He gives me an empathetic smile as he softly sets the glass down and tosses the dirty o...

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Author bio

I was born and raised alongside the Smoky mountains of Western North Carolina. Frequently finding myself lost within the wood, falling deeper inside my mind as the serene silence slowly takes me. Nature has a way of embracing you, healing the hurt you have yet to understand. I've always found uniqueness from the little things. A breath of fresh air, the gentle hum of a bass, the rhythmic swaying of an evening tide, baby bats horsing around at dusk, the loyalty of a good dog. When you learn to appreciate the beauty in the most mundane aspects of life, you find peace. Since I was a small child, I had an infatuation with art, to be able to bring to the world what you hold deep inside. I find it to be the saving grace of humanity. It is what sets us apart from the perpetual motions that is mortality. Without it, we are nothing more than meat sleeves awaiting a bitter demise, only to be forgotten with the maliciously unrelenting time known as life. Art allows us immortality. Eventhough our physical beings will one day be no more, I find solace in knowing that we will forever remain alive within the words we write and the canvases we paint.