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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2022
Submitted to Contest #153
Ding Dong. That infernal bell chimes above the entrance to my bookstore, breaking into my reverie. I’ve tried to take it down before but Cherie (who’d renamed herself when she’d learnt her mother had named her after her favourite pie flavour), who mans the register when I’m not in, informed me that without it, she’d never hear a new customer walk in. We both know that it wouldn’t be an issue, except for her wont to slip into the backroom at every opportunity. She’s obsessed with her new boyfriend, and I don’t say that lightly. She told me ...
Submitted to Contest #151
“Oh hell no,” Rahul muttered to himself, taking in his surroundings. The nauseating heat that came off the walls so cloyingly he felt he couldn’t breathe, the floor beneath the soles of his feet so blisteringly hot he worried he might not be able to lift them without losing a few layers of skin in the process hinted at where he’d arrived, again. But the most telling clue to his whereabouts was the figure he could see in the distance, flinging about a whip that Rahul could swear he’d seen in the trendy sex shop next to his loft in Brooklyn. H...
Submitted to Contest #148
A loud crash echoes through the stairwell I’m currently running up, towards the roof garden that positively blossoms in autumn. I stop, craning my head towards the sound which seems to be coming from Apartment B on the second floor, seeing if anything more follows. I think the Martins live there, with their pet goldfish who they constantly fawn over, and Mr Martin’s mother, who they don’t. I see Mrs Martin Sr often, hobbling towards the rickety old lift with her rickety old legs, using her sturdy oak cane to help her with her uneven gait in ...
Submitted to Contest #147
TW: death Colourless streamers line the walls. Leftovers from the last funeral, he supposed. Dried flowers occupied the opaque plastic vases that were dotted around the room, one set almost militantly in each window frame, the ledges of which just barely had enough space to hold them. Were fresh flowers too much to hope for? The industrial-looking airconditioning unit was set to freezing, which he imagined was to preempt any odour that might arise from the decomposing bodies that were brought in and out of this room all day, every day. It ...
Submitted to Contest #146
The cool wind whistles through the narrow passageways, paradoxically causing a trickle of sweat to drip down my back. A storm is coming, and there is no way to predict the damage it will leave in its wake.The everpresent dust swirls upwards in thick motes, making me cough uncontrollably. I squeeze my eyes tight, knowing what is about to happen. This is a bad one. After nine weeks, five days, seven hours, twenty-eight minutes, and who knows how many seconds, I’ve learned to tell the difference between a brief stirring of the air around me and...
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