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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2022
Submitted to Contest #280
"Doctor Correon, I think that's enough.""Not quite, Alexander. I want to see how much she can handle." I could hear them talking about me. Their voices echoed in the dark void where I existed; I could feel the intense burn of the radiation, searing the outermost layers of my skin. It hurt, but I couldn't tell them so. Even if I could, I doubted it would have mattered. "Very good!" the Doctor exclaimed. Alexander, his intern, was silent. I knew he was nearby- I could smell his cologne; a woodsy scent with a hint of citrus. The scent was comfo...
Submitted to Contest #215
The B.E.A.S.T. building looked as innocuous as the bank across the street. Its gleaming windows, tinted against the afternoon sunlight, winked amidst a blue sky. Seven stories high, the building had swinging doors and a polished front lobby, guest suites on the fourth and fifth floors, and a secured basement area where the expensive equipment was stored. There were no roses or thorns, she thought. No ominous music or armed guards. These were modern day sciences, not the fairy tales her parents told her. Nevertheless, her stomach was in knots...
Submitted to Contest #206
If Veronica knew what I was doing, she’d kill me. That was all I could think about as I snuck around the darkened halls of the abandoned building off highway 138. Jerome and his new girlfriend, Kait, huddled close ten paces ahead, and my best friend Priscilla and I stayed side by side; Priscilla manned the flashlight. The Stewart building was rumored to have been an insane asylum in the late twenties, when doctors used all sorts of abhorrent methods to recondition people society felt weren’t mentally suitable. Most often these were people w...
Submitted to Contest #202
“Divina, you’ll never guess what I heard this morning!” My best friend Savannah wrapped her thin arms around mine and huddled close. I could smell the new floral scented body spray she’d applied liberally after gym class; Her blonde hair was gathered up in a perfect ponytail, perky and shining as though she hadn’t just finished a mile. “What did you hear?” I asked, as I traded my literature book out for my science textbook. Our lockers were next to each other- that was how we...
Submitted to Contest #201
TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of death and suicide.If there was anything my life had taught me, it was to stand on my own two feet. Now, living is a complicated thing, and nature has a way of maintaining balance, see? Survival of the fittest. Take, for instance, those baby animals on the Discovery channel- for them, it’s sink or swim. Their mother teaches them the skills necessary to their survival, and in the end, it all comes down to them. Them. Not some good Samaritan who happens by during a time of their intense suffering. Not some paid hero ...
Submitted to Contest #195
The Deadwoods were moist and humid from the recent rainfall in Corinth. DaVinci sauntered along ahead, his tail raised and straight as an arrow. His hind quarters zig zagged through the underbrush of the woods, and his tiny paws picked carefully over wet things. “How much farther is it?” I complained. Though the weatherman had promised cooling temperatures in anticipation of fall, summer held on with the single-minded vengeance of an ex-girlfriend. I swiped at my forehead and held my shirt collar away from my sticky skin for better ventila...
Submitted to Contest #187
That cat came with the house, according to my Aunt Lenora’s Will. She’d stated it plainly on the first page, under a header called The Cat Clause. Her lawyer removed his reading glasses and shot me a smug gaze; he and my aunt had been lifelong friends, and when she’d received her diagnoses, she’d contracted her best friend and lawyer Georgie Pine Rudriger the second to draw up her last Will and testament. I sat across from him in his little office on the east side of Perdiville, across from the antique store and next door to a barber shop. ...
Submitted to Contest #184
The Wind Phone The flight from DFW airport to Northeast Japan took thirty hours. My head felt fuzzy and my legs cramped from the prolonged activity. Climbing into the taxi, I gave instructions to the driver and leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. I rested my hand on the tiny clay jar tucked in my carry-on bag. The tears came often, sometimes uncontrollably. I stared out the window at the local geography to distract myself from the onslaught. Pedestrians drifted by on sidewalks and pedaled bikes throughout the lanes of traffic. Signs w...
Submitted to Contest #181
The cabin on Elephant Mountain had not seen occupants in three decades. Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger, a middle-aged, reclusive couple with no children, built the cabin in the late 1800s. It was said that Mr. Dillinger was sterile after a bout of the mumps during his childhood, and Mrs. Dillinger’s body was riddled with cancer. Having no extended family, the couple retreated from society to live in the rural mountains of Maine, subsisting off gardens they’d planted themselves, game hunted by Mr. Dillinger, and without the use of modern utilities. ...
Submitted to Contest #173
Uncle Don and Aunt Lynette whispered in the love seat across from mine. Cousin Charles picked at his teeth, his large form hovering in the kitchen doorway, his eyes staring blankly ahead. Rod and Finney sat to the right of the hearth, which cackled with a glowing flame.The drapes in the living room had been drawn back, revealing the picturesque snowfall beyond it. Despite the odd collection of relatives, some of whom I hadn’t seen since I was five, our little gathering made an ideal representation of Christmas morning. My parents, twice...
Submitted to Contest #172
Tristan Morelli slid into the seat next to mine, drawing a collective breath from the rest of our Poli-Sci class. The entire Morelli family was well-known in Boston, and Tristan was the oldest surviving son of the Morelli empire. I tried not to squirm as his expensive cologne drifted around me like a circle, caging me in place. I could sense him in my peripheral, tall, dark and commanding, and utterly self-assured that the world belonged to him. Mr. Magliano, the professor, waited for a subtle nod to continue his lecture, and all at once I’d...
Submitted to Contest #167
The breakfast tray sat untouched on the bedside table as Nurse Teegan shuffled around the room adjusting monitor settings and pretending to document my vital signs. Her auburn hair was perfectly coiled on top of her head, and her scrubs sat crisply on her narrow frame. Her eyes were large and brown, magnified by thin framed glasses with red rims. Every so often those eyes would shift to me before darting back to her computer screen. Her slender hands danced across the keyboard and her lips moved as she thought quietly to herself; though I of...
Submitted to Contest #156
My second life started on May 6, 2012. I drove to the Virtual Lifestyle Assignment building, which was situated at a right angle to the highway and across from Moody's delicatessen on Broad Street. I couldn’t believe my luck; This was the first and only time I’d ever won anything, and the timing couldn't be better. My nephew, Ajax had passed away in a terrible motor vehicle accident only two weeks ago, a loss that left our entire family reeling. I struggled with depression on a regular basis, and the news of Ajax’s untimely death had only se...
Submitted to Contest #153
The traffic on Deedson road was at a standstill. Griffith Middle School had seen its last day of the school year, and the students surged from the entrance, cheering and tossing aside their old notebooks like discard. On the front lawn, harried teachers called out commands to behave over the summer, and shouted at wayward students to cross at the cross-walk. Lawrence Weber opted to take the back way home, avoiding the mass of students entirely. He turned south instead of north, planning to circle back around at Woodworth street two blocks aw...
Submitted to Contest #152
Mr. Leery’s hot dog stand greeted the visitors of Chameleon’s Circus with the mouth-watering smell of hot dogs and the eye-catching and colorful disarray of a dozen flags, all hung haphazardly along the cart. Mr. Leery was as colorful as his props, with a dazzling shock of white hair, mismatched socks, a protruding belly, and parachute pants that looked as though they might carry him away. Beyond him, Madam Cyris’ Fortune Telling Tent lay closed against the summer heat, occupied by Madame Cyris herself and one paying guest. I watched as the ...
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