Christina Marie

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (25)

25 Stories

2436 karma pts

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“My People” by Christina Marie

The cluster of skyscrapers that define the city’s skyline loom impassively across the river, sparkling glass teeth sprouting from concrete gums under the red tongue of a late autumn sunset. Sometimes I marvel at the fullness of this city life—opportunities always available in the unknown, absolute freedom in every unfamiliar face, space to pursue passion without personal persecution. Oth...

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“Creepy John” by Christina Marie

  The mirrors in my room are hidden under white sheets that hang like silent ghosts.   The nurses think they’ve contained him, but I still catch glimpses of Creepy John—watching, waiting.   His rotting teeth snap from the edge of the stainless steel sink. His rolling amber eye leers from the curve of the polished doorknob. His gnarled finger marks me from the window.   The surgery they tell me I’ve had has shaken my fortifications, vibrations of ...

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“Metamorphosis ” by Christina Marie

Caterpillars rained from the sky that summer. The sticky, squishy, hairy creatures destroyed trees and suffocated crops, crept up legs and crawled down necks. The lettuce in our garden fell victim to their hunger and the cornstalks wilted under their weight. They survived the heat. They persevered through rain. They gripped on to life with astonishing strength against the constant threat o...

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“Corporate Shackles” by Christina Marie

I sit with my chin on the steering wheel and watch the stars wink out over the office, slowly stifled by sly hues of violet and then suddenly smothered by angry slashes of pink that just as quickly fade into pale swaths of blues and golds. I love my job. I love my job. I hate my job. Shit. The truth creeps into my morning monologue yet aga...

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“Will and Was” by Christina Marie

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in this purgatory, with perfect life squirming behind the window at my front and grotesque death lingering behind the door at my back.It might be seconds.It might be days.Time is lost amidst the whitecaps of my internal tempest, a ceaseless assault of blooming heaves of love and bleeding hollows of loss. The clock behind me points to one—in the morning, I assume, given the night shift that bustles at the periphery of my exhausted existence.&nbsp...

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“A Saturday in October” by Christina Marie

She appeared on my front step at 4:38 a.m. on a Saturday in October, dark hair a wild mess of tangles that mimicked the fury of the black autumn wind that raged around the house.Raindrops slipped like tears from the shoulders of her leather jacket, glistening under the suspicious glare of the porch light. Her hands hung limp at her sides. Her bottom lip, slashed and lopsided in a plump pout, quivered. Her fierce eyes bled a blooming nest of blue and purple. They grazed my face and down my neck to the scars on my col...

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“Laments” by Christina Marie

Shadows of the towering oaks that stood sentinel over the dead stretched long and lithe in the final yawn of light.I hung back, hesitant, wary and waiting, while the visitor paid her final respects.She stood, a lonely wraith in the eternal breath of a midsummer sunset, a silent statue over an unremarkable headstone amongst a sea of the same. Tall and lean; willowy and pale. Her hair was like moonlight, curled in a wispy knot at the base of her bowed head. Her white skirt rippled on the wave of a ge...

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“Seven Seeds” by Christina Marie

Before Adam made love to his wife on the outskirts of paradise, Eve fell upon the cursed dust of their banishment and coughed up seven seeds that rooted in the flesh of the earth from which humankind was doomed to coax mortal sustenance. - Alexander King Alexander watched on with pride as his son stood in the sparring ring amongst a defeated circle of his...

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“Closure” by Christina Marie

The road between Nanaimo and Uclulet is long and winding. It snakes around stunning lakes and curves under ancient trees. It clings to breasts of craggy mountains and stretches over bowels of deep green gullies. The way is occasionally barred by rockslides and often slick with steady island rain.Today though, as Natalie returns home, the pavement is dry and a few brave rays of the late summer sun peek through the Pacific Rim’s constant coastal mist in tentative greeting.Her tiny rented Prius put-putts p...

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“The Cowboy” by Christina Marie

Death searched the desert, a moonlit shadow stalking sand and shrub.The Cowboy’s horse whickered softly at Death’s approach, but remained faithful and did not run.“It’s a cool night,” Death called from just beyond the ring of flickering light that warmed the Cowboy’s tired hands.“It’s about time,” the Cowboy replied, welcoming Death to his fire. He did not stir from where he lounged back against his saddle bags, left leg stretched long, right knee propped up, dusty hat lowered over his...

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“Flint and Flame” by Christina Marie

My mother’s slaughtered corpse still cooled in the battlefield’s mud as I stood between my two sisters at the foot of our family’s gilded throne. Tallest to shortest, youngest to oldest, father placed the three of us on display like common goods in a storefront window.While we suffered the scrutiny of the conquering King, Anna and Maria kept their eyes on the floor and their shoulders folded. Their hands were clasped solemnly at their navels, and they did not fidget as fate calculated their worth.I held...

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“Troll in a Tree” by Christina Marie

Harald was a troll who lived in a tree. This was quite unusual, as trolls usually dwelled deep in mountain caves or in the shadows of long wood bridges. But Harald always liked the trees. Even as a troll-child, when he was expected to carve rocks, break rocks, move rocks, eat rocks, he had instead gone into the forest to study trees, climb trees, talk to trees. Harald had only been three years old and hal...

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“Tough As Nails” by Christina Marie

“That’s the thing about this city,” Grandpa says, polishing off his third Pilsner since we sat down at the pub around the block from my tiny dormitory. “An’ every other city. Makes people soft.”Part-time rigger and full-time rancher, Grandpa is the definition of a roughneck. His stocky frame is wrapped in solid cowboy muscle. His blue eyes are bright and sharp under the rim of his tattered ball cap. His face is like leather, weathered by too many winters atop oil rigs in the unforgiving cold and unrelenting wind in the c...

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“Betty's Window” by Christina Marie

Betty turned 95 yesterday.She gazes out at the grey March morning and tries not to think about how old that sounds.She tries not to hope for 96.Her window on the third floor of the Glenview Manor overlooks a barren snow-strewn field, lined by tired fence posts and spotted with scrubby shrubs.It’s not an exciting view, but it’s a view, and she’s grateful for it—there are many residents across the country that aren’t as fortunate.A few weeks after movi...

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“Jack” by Christina Marie

Time was meaningless in her sad sarcophagus of self-confinement.Liv had no idea what day, month, or season it was when her mother, Lydia, arrived at her door without notice. Or maybe there was notice. Liv hadn’t checked or charged her phone in hours, or maybe weeks. After Jack’s accident, the calling of well-intentioned friends eventually sputtered silent. The check-ins and chin-ups chattered themselves out. The thoughts and prayers moved on to other tragedies.But Liv was caught i...

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Author bio

Finally putting pen to paper (or digits to keys) after many long years of thinking about it. Here to learn, grow and have fun!

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