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Christine Foy Jackson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2024

Stories (6)

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42 Followers

18 Following

6 Stories

348 karma pts

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My Own Two Feet

Christine Foy Jackson

Submitted to Contest #289

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. It wasn’t what I saw, at first, that made me realize where I was. It was the smell—something antiseptic--and a faint odor of blood. When I opened my eyes, the light washed over everything. I couldn’t take in one single image, so I closed them and opened them more slowly. I was in bed, saw my feet straining under a sheet pulled tight at the corners. They were tipped toward each other, sad and unused. I heard the voices of other people in the room. One was a man, leaned over the bed—too clos...

8 likes

A Chance to Breathe

Christine Foy Jackson

Submitted to Contest #264

The room was beautiful, bulbs strung along the walls and topiary scattered about for a feeling of clean elegance, but that didn’t do anything to help Alicia’s mood. Looking around, the word she decided on was stiff-- stiff people walking wordlessly past each other, the women gliding on tanned legs smoothed with lotion as silk billowed away from slits in their dresses. Worse, she was with her mother, who was keen to give Alicia an advantage in this new circle. The clubhouse was a rotunda in the middle of the golf course and offered a view of ...

10 likes

Hot Like Grease

Christine Foy Jackson

Shortlisted for Contest #262 ⭐️

I'm standing there, concentrating hard on not tipping the cast iron pan because it's filled almost to the top with grease, even though I shouldn't worry too much. It's on the far burner. When I lay the chicken legs in, the grease rises a little higher. I slowly lay another drumstick in the bubbling pool while my two-year-old clutches my leg.  My life is a series of tasks, small ones that follow each other relentlessly. Most of them I associate with a sensation, an awareness of sound or touch, maybe. Not many are pleasant in themselves. ...

29 likes

Hoping We'll Talk Soon

Christine Foy Jackson

Submitted to Contest #261

Dear Mom, Thank you for the red bag you bought me. I never thought I’d say that. It’s large and, well, forgive me. Obnoxious is the only word I can think of. But you don’t care what other people think, ha ha. It hangs on my shoulder and way down to my knees, as you know because it’s a duplicate of yours. And it can get really heavy and puffy the more I stuff into it. The bag sat deflated in a corner of my closet for the longest time, just hanging there, the side punched in from emptiness. Again, sorry. I didn’t use it until I started going t...

13 likes

Feelings of Self Abandonment Throughout

Christine Foy Jackson

Submitted to Contest #260

Dawn scooted into her place at the table in the prayer room, careful not to smoosh her two year-old’s legs. She liked attending prayer circle, but having two young children made it a challenge. The three women surrounding her at the small, round table were all older, their thinning hair trimmed to their ears. Sweet though they were, they didn’t abide disorder, reserving their disapproval with tight smiles.  “As you know,” Shirley said, “We’ve been asked to host the Proverbs 31 Woman Benefit Dinner this year. I’d like it to be particular...

11 likes

Getting Better

Christine Foy Jackson

Winner of Contest #259 🏆

The feeling was like sinking. Gert and the counselor drifted outside her field of vision; her breath halted. Sophie knew even if she could speak, her words would go unheard. She wanted to run out of the room, but thought better of it, so she sat, head in hand as if she were concentrating.  “Are you ok?” The counselor’s voice was even, warm. The clock ticking, the sound of Gert breathing next to her on the couch, the stare of the counselor, all irritated her. She took a deep breath, looked up.  Gert said, “We all want you to be ok.”...

71 likes