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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2023
Submitted to Contest #212
August 15th Dear Jo, Please, do not tear up this letter. I know you have not heard from me in a while (I couldn't reach you in any conventional way, but by some miracle, I remembered your address). This is not a question I take pleasure in asking. I am, quite honestly, stuck. You knew all about my moods, the anxieties you would call "obstacles" or "roadblocks" - after we parted I started referring to these as mere parts of me, not defects. Perhaps influence is a selfish thing, or a beast with poisoned talons, or even a one-sided mirror. ...
Shortlisted for Contest #205 ⭐️
You are looking at us. Wide eyes, fearful eyes. Help me. You, the woman, are haggard, sunburnt, too young for her skin. You suck the last bits of ash from your cigarette and vie for your husband’s attention. A bad husband, by the looks of it (and we know what a bad husband looks like). He, the man—hard-muscled, veiny, sickly pale—picks at the raw skin of his elbow. A cut, a weakness. You’ve been driving all night, you say. A place to sleep would be lovely. Happily, we oblige. We walk with you toward the mess hall. You question...
Submitted to Contest #199
This story contains depictions of violence, self-harm, suicide, and psychosis.—Verity Castillo was hers. She knew where he worked—Westlake Recording Studios in LA, or at one of his home studios in Manhattan or The Hamptons. She knew what he smelled like—Gucci’s The Alchemist’s Garden, cinnamon and Patchouli oil with rustic accents. She knew his favorite color—mauve—and his blood type—O-negative, the same as hers (what intimacy!)—and his date of birth down to the second—September 21st, 1998, at 8:13 PM London time. She was...
Shortlisted for Contest #196 ⭐️
You weren’t allowed to return. That was the rule. In Sali, Washington, people disappeared. My grandmother did back in ’92, just after having Mom. She left a succinct note explaining that Pop wasn’t doting enough, and she missed the soft skin and moist lips of her fading yesterdays. My best friend Beck did, the night before her eighteenth birthday, claiming life wasn’t worth living if you only got to be a child once. Even my boyfriend, plagued by the obscurity of our town, a loyal resident through and through until he realized just how...
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