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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021
Death seldom begged. It wasn't in his nature. Sure, he'd had people on their knees for him countless times, but never once did he think he'd find himself kissing the feet of his greatest enemy in exchange for a life. A single mortal life.A life Grim usually wouldn't think twice about pulling into the underworld, yet here he was, praying that Life would return, the only thing that mattered to him. "Don't make me say it again," Grim thundered, his head hanging so low that his black locks dripped just above his cheekbones. Life laughe...
Submitted to Contest #179
I've always believed in love; I'd always hoped I'd find it the way a Disney princess found her prince. Singing in window sills as the world rolled on by until that special knight in glistening armor climbed over a mountain and slayed a dragon for my hand. But life has proved to me, on more than one occasion, that such fairytales should stay in the books. Or maybe on the Hallmark channel where the city girl comes back and falls head over heels for the small-town boy. All that garbage I prayed I'd find until I didn't. Turns out life doesn't l...
Submitted to Contest #132
There was something about being an angel that Astrid hated with all her heart- perhaps it was the very fact that she could never physically hate anything. And while it was seen as a blessing to everyone in New Jerusalem, it was nothing more than a burden to her- the eldest cherubim under her family's name. And quite a name it was, or so her neighbors said. Yes, another one of Astrid's sins; she was notorious for listening through walls. But it wasn't her fault- they were just too thin to resist. "Astrid, darling, are you ready? The gates a...
Submitted to Contest #96
“Layla, come on! We’re going to be late,” Naomi exclaimed, gasping from under a flowy, purple gown beneath a crown of baby’s breath . She hated wearing dresses, but Layla insisted on nothing else for such a formal occasion. Naomi could only roll her eyes. “We’re going to be late if you don’t get that curl in your hair to ring around your neck and back, like some murderous device,” she joked, painting a sincere grin on her rosy lips that beamed in the limelight of the moon. “I’m coming, you twit,” Layla laughed, opening the bathroom doo...
This place was once home, or at least, Skie thought it was, alive under the roof of her rumbling years caught in the cobwebs of the cellar. The crystal chandelier was still as dazzling as starlight, glistening like a foreign galaxy above, reflecting the youthful, curious eyes of Skie’s once future nostalgia. It was here that she became who she was in the guest room of her ancestors' home. Plastered with pink floral paper and cheap, fluorescent candelabras, Skie pictured this empty room as it once was: filled with laughter, love, dolls,...
Submitted to Contest #95
The waves whirled like a blazing fire, circled by the heavens of black smoke. The salty air became a signal of sickness: a disease of potent greed. That was the life Morris chose, right? I mean, he knew there would be debt to pay, but not like this. As it turned out, he could never have been more wrong. “Batten down the hatches,” Captain Morstan cried, hanging by a tear in the sail. “Keep her floating, boys!” Morris, holding the chest in his arms as tightly as possible, wrapped his feet around a finite rope, gripping the corrod...
Celeste loved the way she could almost feel the diamond stars sparkling in the distance the way they did each night from her bedroom window, tucked into the very folds of her youth. She needed nothing more in life than the sweet lullaby of the sky in the darkness on her transparent, silk curtains, resembling snowflakes in a cozy winter storm. “Sweet children of the universe,” she whispered, “What have we done to deserve you?” Those very children were the reason for Celeste’s breath, the reason she woke at the crack of dawn each morni...
Submitted to Contest #94
Every night was the same in every house on the block, and Justin knew it. He knew every person, not by name, but by their mailboxes. (If he knew their names the way he knew everything else about their personal lives, that would be stalking, and Justin was no stalker, or at least, he refused to think of himself as one). The man who always wore the brown bowler hat was Red Mailbox, a fiery figure who drove to work angrily in a red pickup truck with two scratches on the back left tire rim. The lady in the pink fur shawl was Green Mailbo...
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