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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021
This house is always empty, apart from the noises. Pencil scratching on paper. The whir of an ancient computer. The faint noise of music leaking through earbuds that look like they’ve been through a World War. This place with four bedrooms, two baths, and a patio is a mansion because it could never be a home. I live, cry, sleep, and eat in this house but it is too minimalistic to ever feel like a home. I fall asleep every night on a bed that is too large for my body and in a room with ceilings that have me craning my head backward to see. Ho...
I think I love you. It comes out breathless; A blurted confession, a promise. Okay, she whispers. A devastating, beautiful smile lights up her features as she brushes her thumb over his lips. I love you too. (He can't keep a promise.) He kisses her, and she kisses him back. He wakes up in bed, her body intertwined with his. Hand thrown over her face, arm wrapped around his chest, head curled under his collar. She's intoxicating. She makes him feel awake, makes him feel alive. Hey, he greets her as she wakes. She stretches, ...
Soft hands grip the railing. It’s cold outside, the evening sun dimming into the horizon. His heart flutters with anticipation. He turns to the side table and downs the glass of wine in a single gulp before swinging off the balcony. The wine glass falls with him. He listens for it shattering. He never hits the ground. He wakes to pale pink lips and hazel eyes. Good morning. she whispers. Rounded features, a light dusting of freckles over dimpled cheeks. An oversized pink shirt with a smear of yellow paint on the left sle...
TW: Mentions of blood and physical violence To the world, you’re a murderer. An insane man, stripped of sanity and soul. A monster to your lover, to your brother, to the mother you never knew. —Your lips are cracked. Blood trickles down a gash in your forehead, pooling into your eyes. You blink. Tears run trails of crimson, winding down your face. There’s a warmth in your chest, a growing, soothing, numbing voice that whispers to you. You float.—- The world is sharp and yet blurry, something that has destr...
Submitted to Contest #101
He was just a ten-year-old, fighting for what he believed in. Even if his causes left him facedown in a ditch. He peeled himself off the ground and staggered back home like a drunk man.He collapsed on the bare wooden floor of the poor apartment they lived in, and hazily noticed that he was getting blood on the floor that she had just swept the day before. He wondered whether his ma would be mad at him- She wouldn’t, right? ---His ma came back home from the hospital around 6 o'clock. He doesn’t remember how long he was lying on the ...
Submitted to Contest #92
A/N: This story does revolve around the topic of depression. So please, stay safe. This is more of a poem format, and I just had an idea and wanted to write it out in a way that best suited me.I’m watching the raindropspound against the windowNo sun insightCovered by gray stormy cloudsIt’s darkIt’s coldA flash of lightfollowed by a boomHope for a secondCling onto that lightBut as soon as it comesit’s goneThe sea is violent and bleakjust like my mindThe waves are my thoughtsrolling around in turmoilTurning into tsunamiscrashing and pounding a...
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