Christa Dor

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

67 karma pts

?

“A Ghost Made of Gelatin” by Christa Dor

Submitted to Contest #221

It was both astonishing and delightful to see that Mr. Harper found out how to use emojis. It was a simple thumbs-up followed by a request to come over for tea. The text message, although brief, brought a radiant smile to Laurel's face when she woke up on her birthday. However, as much as she appreciated her eighty-five-year-old neighbor's newfound technological prowess, Laurel knew that she couldn't accept his invitation. There were two reasons why. Firstly, she had grown tired of being Mr. Harper's sole source of companionship, constantly ...

Read story

“Remnant of the Serene Days” by Christa Dor

Submitted to Contest #220

Cold.Even as the rays of sun rake my bare arm.Cold.My inflamed pores squeeze out chubby beads of sweat on my damp clothes. They trickle down and die once they come in contact with the scorching sand of the desert.I don't belong in this infinite sea of faded gold. I have been dumped here hours ago, maybe days even. Time is such a useless resource when your system whines for shade and alkaline liquid. And then, my senses blaze into life when my eyes fall upon it. In the distance I see it— a glimmer of rich colors spread upon a soft fabric defy...

Read story

“One Last Time?” by Christa Dor

Submitted to Contest #167

One Last Time Today, I will end your life. No worries, mine will tag along. Together, we are to cheat our way into the afterlife, while our bodies remain intertwined through a last embrace. We are to die like young lovers. Except, we aren't. We aren't young, our lifestyle can testify. At forty-three, my law degree should have been a pass to choose plush over practicality. I’ve dreamed of owning yachts that I don’t know how to tame, clothes that would carry our status, and many empty rooms in a house of two. Instead of bickering in a ...

Read story

“Black Sheep” by Christa Dor

Submitted to Contest #100

The‌ ‌cold‌ ‌wind‌ ‌of‌ ‌December‌ ‌stung‌ ‌my‌ ‌face‌ ‌with‌ ‌random‌ ‌blows.‌ ‌I‌ ‌waited‌ ‌outside,‌ ‌hoping‌ ‌that‌ ‌someone‌ ‌would‌ ‌hear‌ ‌the‌ ‌doorbell‌ ‌amid‌ ‌the‌ ‌celebrations.‌ ‌ "Oh...‌ ‌It's‌ ‌you!"‌ ‌Mom's words came out in wavering chunks. ‌She ‌then opened ‌the door‌ ‌wide‌ ‌enough‌ ‌for‌ ‌me‌ ‌to‌ ‌squeeze‌ ‌in.‌ ‌I‌ ‌took‌ ‌out‌ ‌my‌ ‌coat‌ ‌and‌ ‌put‌ ‌my‌ ‌backpack‌ ‌down.‌ ‌I‌ ‌looked‌ ‌up.‌ ‌Mom‌ ‌looked‌ ‌at‌ ‌me‌ ‌with‌ ‌her‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌wide,‌ ‌her‌ ‌lips‌ ‌pursed‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌tentative smile.‌ ‌I‌ ‌lea...

Read story

Author bio

Christa Dor has not written a bio yet!