Bethany Lobberecht

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

86 karma pts

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“Project Bermuda: The Journals of Alex Lee” by Bethany Lobberecht

Submitted to Contest #247

Tuesday August 18th, 2082 It seems utterly impossible. Every ounce of logic in me is trying to argue that I am mistaken, that there exists an explanation that I have just not yet dreamt up. And yet, from everything my eyes can see, from every piece of information I am capable of gathering, there is only one possible explanation: This little spot of land has, somehow, remained wholly undiscovered. For the sake of brevity, I will attempt to summarize the happenings that led to my apparent stroke of unimaginable luck. I set out from Ni’ihau ap...

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“Crickets” by Bethany Lobberecht

Submitted to Contest #237

           My dreams are filled with the sound of crickets.           Then my eyes open and the sound evaporates, replaced by the hum of silence. My eyelids feel crusty. An ache is already twisting into form in my joints. My knees are stiff, and I have to bend them a bit to work them up to standing. I’m not twenty anymore. There’s no denying it.           I stand and ...

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“The Last Part of Me” by Bethany Lobberecht

Submitted to Contest #219

It’s strange what comes back to you while you walk that final mile. It’s odd what you remember, and what you long for. I thought I’d cry for the ones I didn’t hold long enough. I thought my heart would crack for the smiles I’d never again see. I thought my bones would ache for all the roads I’d never driven, all the places I’d never seen, all the chances I never took. Instead I watch dark figures lurking in the shadows, and all I find myself missing is the light. They seeped from the walls day by day, forms appearing like a mirage from th...

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“Monsters” by Bethany Lobberecht

Submitted to Contest #93

The moon feels cold despite the relative warmth of the night.  It bathes our skin in a sickly, blue-gray hue, turning us into the walking dead. Our flashlights dance ahead of us, laughably small guides through the maze of trees. Noises proliferate from every side, and yet they are strange, almost muffled, as though they are coming from behind a wall of glass. It is as if we exist in a bubble of silence where only our own sounds can break the thrum of nothingness. Leaves crunching beneath our feet. Short, sharp exhales as we walk. Th...

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