Beth Peterson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023

Stories (6)

6 Stories

151 karma pts

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“Down to the Last Drop” by Beth Peterson

Submitted to Contest #205

CW: Death, Grief, and CannibalismTo my dear Ethan,The first time I did it, I swear it was an accident.I’d just brought you home. You were so small. If I’d wrapped my arms around you any tighter, both of us would have shattered into a thousand pieces. But I didn’t care what happened to me. I had no concept of thoughts, feelings, time, space, or existence itself. All I knew was that I had you, in one way or another.The house was so quiet when we got back. I kept waiting to hear your footsteps. I held my breath in anticipation of your voice fil...

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“A Change in the Weather” by Beth Peterson

Submitted to Contest #204

Eustace Grik sauntered down the dusty roads of Cedar Rock. With one hand comfortably resting on his holster, he took great pleasure in surveying his desert kingdom. There were no sultans or shahs on the wild frontiers of the Nevada Territory. But for Eustace, no title held more power than— “Sheriff,” an old man sputtered as Eustace waltzed into the general goods store. “Henry McClellan,” Eustace called out. He glanced around the half-bare shelves and unswept floors. “I’ve seen manure heaps in better condition than this.” “I’m sor...

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“The Good Old Days” by Beth Peterson

Submitted to Contest #191

A lifetime of adventuring had led Helga the Fang-Wielder all over the nine kingdoms. She’d climbed the mist-cloaked peaks of the Loathsome Mountains. She’d wandered through the verdant fields of the Eternal Valley. She’d even, on her most daring quest, explored the haunted ruins of Storm Rock.Yet no matter how far she traveled, she always ended up at Silverwood Hall.It was a cozy tavern in a small town. Quiet and unassuming, it was not the kind of place Helga had ever expected to grow so attached to. But her memories had tangled themselves t...

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“To Right a Wrong” by Beth Peterson

Submitted to Contest #190

The day Mary Anne stopped coming to book club meetings, we all knew what had happened to her. But none of us wanted to say it out loud. Not when the missing posters started popping up around town. Not when the police started asking questions. Not even when her poor mother, bless her heart, went on the local news to beg for Mary Anne to come home.We all knew she was dead. We knew who’d done it, too. But that no good, double-dealing, drunk-as-a-skunk father of hers was a former cop. He knew how to get rid of evidence and clean up a crime ...

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“The Storyteller and the Keeper of Words” by Beth Peterson

Submitted to Contest #189

As long as I kept my eyes closed, I could pretend everything was okay. I could ignore the rocking of the wooden cart beneath me. The straw poking through my pajamas. The cold nipping at my fingers and toes. The pounding headache that came from having too much to drink the night before.It was the sound of goats bleating in my ear that finally convinced me to open my eyes.There were six of them tied to the cart. Each took turns snatching mouthfuls of straw from my makeshift bed. They stared me down as they chewed. Their rectangular pupils gave...

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“A Pretty Sweet Deal” by Beth Peterson

Submitted to Contest #188

“So, what’s the catch?” the devil asked.“No catch,” Martha insisted as she poured him a cup of coffee. Black with far too much sugar, exactly as he’d requested. “I just thought a fella like you’d be interested in making a deal.”She settled into the old kitchen chair opposite the devil. He looked much younger than she’d expected. Otherwise, she’d pictured him perfectly. Dark, slicked-back hair. A neatly trimmed beard. Sharp eyes that stared at her like a hungry predator.“I don’t tend to get called up by little old ladies,” the devil said befo...

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Author bio

Definitely not three cats in a trench coat.