Carol Stewart

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2024

Stories (25)

25 Stories

719 karma pts

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“The Giving and Receiving of Gifts” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #253

Mrs Enid Galbraith, born in the reign of Victoria, and more than a decade before the old queen’s death, was, much like her hens at this time of year, no spring chicken herself, but if they could withstand the frost, she was ‘bloody shair’ she could. Her legs, though swollen, hadn’t failed her yet, and her back, though bent, still had strength, and if her arms could bear ‘the weight o’ twae tin pails, yin filled wi’ sand, yin wi’ witter’, and she could make it down to the coop past those rickety steps with ‘twae pund o’ feed in her apron powk...

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“Skylights” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #253

***Contains a fair amount of Scots dialect*** The wedding reception was still in full swing when Ria found herself sitting alone – or as alone as a girl two days off her eighteenth birthday could be when backed into the corner of a snug and surrounded by a load of drunken Boomers. Aw, lass… yer pal away now, is she…? The woman next to her, squeezed into a leopard-come-zebra patchwork dress, placed a hand on the seat between them, leaning in over Ria’s jacket. Fingers heavily ringed, bronze-shimmer taloned acrylics, the upside-down, insect-...

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“The Shape of the Leaves” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #252

***mentions of murder, suicide and sexual abuse***I do hope Arthur’s going to put those pellets down. It’s all very well his not wanting to poison the birds, but picking out slugs one by one, and in this rain, I ask you!With a hand on the edge of the brown velvet drapes, and her slender, mouse-like body concealed behind them, Amelia Entwistle, sixty-two years of age, addressed her lifetime companion, the slightly older, taller and stouter Christine Borthwick, without once taking her eyes off the scene outside. Her gaze was fixed, as it...

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“Black and White and Red... All Over” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #252

*** Frequent profanity ***Joe had done a bad thing. He hadn’t meant to, and wouldn’t have if things had gone to plan, had his wife been more understanding instead of nipping his head, wittering on. And if that daughter of theirs hadn’t messed up and been sacked from her job – or whatever the hell it was that had happened - then everything would have carried on as normal, and the dog would not be dead.Much like the weather, the day had started out fine, at least as fine as could be expected, for what was life without a few clouds? He had mone...

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“FILTH” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #252

***Contains some profanity***Roland had sat at his window all morning. The view wasn’t anywhere near as clear as he would have liked, but then what could he do three flights up with that grimy, ill-fitting pane having long since morphed into its homophonous twin? Thrice he’d complained to the council. The last time he’d been more emphatic with regard to the damp and the mould, but would they listen? As for the state of the communal stairs – well, that’s the residents’ responsibility, sir, please refer to page four, section ten of your tenant...

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“ The Distant View” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #251

Tanya Sutherland. I always wondered why she didn’t change her name. An author thing, I supposed, when I first discovered she wrote – and that did come as bit of a shock. I mean, first she muscled in on my boyfriend, and then my dream career path. Granted, the two were in no way linked, and it had been years since she took up with Luke. As for the likelihood of her stealing my readership, there was about as much chance of that as a drayhorse winning The National. That tagline of hers said it all. ‘Poets don’t cry, they reserve the shedding of...

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“The Heaviness of Empty” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #250

Potentially upsetting content, subject of child loss ***Every month has its colour, and August is red. Not the lively, April, cork-popping red which flecks itself gold come Christmas, but the deep ebon rose of hoop-heavy taffeta, the port-wine stain of airless Sundays, the disquiet of a silent emphysema, blood thickened, slow-moving.He brought me flowers again. A gothic bouquet. How quickly it withered. Fallen petals on the sill, curled up like ensanguined scabs. Sun at its highest, blazing through the window. Car lacquered black, a-glare, o...

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“Alice Come Sunday” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #249

Potentially sensitive/triggering content: alcohol abuse, underage drinking, reference to rape, ageism, mental health, infrequent profanity ***Knickers, knickers, made in Britain! Knickers, knickers, made in Britain…! Grabbing her sister’s new summer scarf while laughingly chanting the words of nearly fifty years before, Ellie spun onto the neon-lit dancefloor. She waved the narrow rectangle before her as her limbs shook loose to the hypnotic beat. ‘Sandstorm’ by Darude was playing at twice the speed she remembered, but even in her heels, and...

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“The Wind in the Willows” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #248

Potentially sensitive issues/triggering content: child abandonment, family breakdown***Look, Auntie Em, the houses are screaming! Lacey tripped along beside me as, with Disney-pink bag on my back, and dragging my suitcase behind me, we entered the Deer View Estate. Nine years old and quite the creative thinker, only moments before she had told me her head felt like lava, and although it was true that temperatures had risen slightly these past few days, there was still a chill breeze and the April sky remained overcast.From across the street,...

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“A Life Beyond” by Carol Stewart

Submitted to Contest #247

Warning… You are approaching the barrier, do not proceed… Warning… A hundred miles from his city centre dwelling, and several hundred yards from where he’d abandoned his one-person laser travelling pod, Enz entered the ‘no-go’ zone, setting off the alarm. The sun was already blackening, soon it would be eclipsed, and the lights which flashed and beamed before him, blue and amber from various levels on the high mirrored walls, would turn everything around him such a sickly shade of intense it would bring the city to a halt. Circuits frozen, p...

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Author bio

Carol Stewart is a 57 y.o. mother, grandmother and former content mill editor (2011 - 2015) who lives in the Scottish Borders. She writes both poetry and prose. Her poems have featured in various print and online journals including That (Literary Review), Gravitas, Coffin Bell, Change Seven, Scapegoat, and most recently Positively Up and '45' magazine. Her most recent short stories (outside Reedsy) appear in Etymology (May 2024 issue), Otherwise Engaged Literature and Arts Journal (June 2024) and The Stygian Lepus (Aug 2024).

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #255

The Silence and The Noise – read story