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Christine Hungerford

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (219)

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151 Followers

1 Following

219 Stories

1286 karma pts

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I've Never Done This Before

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #101

My friends and I escaped through the creaky, eerily black iron gate towering above us in front of an ominous, foggy forest. Our crunching feet snapped the dry leaves as we were running back and forth so many times since early childhood. As Camille and the others all leaped over fallen logs and swung from low branches, I stopped and turned around. The place—scarily inappropriate for small children—didn’t make me shudder and run to my parents to comfort a scared me anymore. I stood, all fear and hesitation vanishi...

7 likes

Let's Forgive Each Other

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #100

Apple Pie lounged, relaxed, burnt-red, furry legs perched on the curl of a wooden decoration underneath the poker table. His buddies and he play nightly games of poker here, cards like Go Fish and Rummy 500, and sleep. &nbs...

5 likes

Go With the Flow

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #99

The boy waited at the empty, lonely park, waiting—yet again—for his busy grandmother to get him from soccer practice. He glanced at his wristwatch. 4:05 pm. Sighing heavily, Lucas stared up at the cloudless blue sky. She promised him on the phone she was on her way. Two hours ago. Lucas went to his brand-new black and white Nike cleats, studying those now. He’d been digging them in the dirt patches, balding the green grass covering this sand...

6 likes

Ready, Set, Go-T!

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #98

Mom and Dad just shook their heads, and little twin brothers Canyon and Cactus snickered at her when she said she ran into magnificently beautiful crystals in a monstrously dark cave over yonder, feeling what she said was danger threatening her family and her. She shivered as she explained it, saying they better leave before they’re too late. Dad waved all superstitious stuff—as he called it—away, while Mom just said, “You’re overthinking it, honey. We’re living in a peaceful environment, not a dangerous one!” &n...

8 likes

Angry Doesn't Work

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #97

The window hung open, but I had already closed it a while ago. My friend, Li Jing, was pulling me by the wrist as we rounded the cobblestone pillar into my bedroom. She stopped us between the two beds, the moon’s light being our only source of light. It was so dark inside I was grateful to see her face looking at mine. But worry pinched it. Even her beautiful blue eyes shimmered with fear. “What’s wrong? Why are we st...

9 likes

The Boy Who Called Me Wolfman

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #96

The boy just stood there, all weak and helpless, like no one cared for him. Dirt smudges decorated his brown sugar-colored skin while nothing but a loincloth hung from his neck to his skinny ankles. I looked with confusion and wonder as the boy’s eyes shone with hope, his fat red lips still and his dirty, scabbed hands holding an empty bowl with a wooden spoon and a couple of rice and lettuce leftovers in it. I smiled a little at him, wishing I had food. Then I invited the poor kid to follow me into the woods behind us—maybe the wolves will...

6 likes

Harder Than It Looks

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #95

I want to go in one of them, as I know one leads to opportunity. The other would be something I never want in a million dreams—I wouldn’t be caught dead sacrificing for someone. They’d just forget me. So I move on through life. What's better than holding hands with Kenny while waiting for Jenny and Laura to catch up so they can hear all about my full ride scholarship to Princeton University? I curl my hands into fists of frustration. I hate making choices—I always fear the worst outcome, which I...

10 likes

Average Joe

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #94

The boy sat at the table, staring at his homework. He fell back against the chair, blowing an exhausting sigh through his puckered lips. “I hate it.” He looked over at his mother. She was turning the stove’s dial to Hot and then flipped the beans sautéing in the hot sizzling oil. “I hate it!” &n...

11 likes

Climate Change

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #93

The bright light streaming from the sunshine was the only source I could use to see a long, white, stone dinner table spread before us. We had entered a dusty, cobwebbed room of an ancient Irish castle. Thousands of years old—dating back to 1180, my tour guide had said—Henry Hamilton’s home apparently housed a mysteriously eerie area. Spiders’ webs, ragged curtains, dirty, moldy windows, a tablecloth stained with bloody spots and glass shards strewn everywhere was enough to call in the Scooby-Doo gang or Nancy Drew. If they didn’t come, I wo...

9 likes

Lucky, Lucky

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #92

We would watch the sled dogs zoom by our huge office window, snow spurting from either side of the sleigh, Camel’s dogs mad to get to the finish line first. Our racer displays a waving hand as we cheer. If the fur-coated man were to skin one of his beloved animals, he would probably be warmer. But his heart towards those Malamutes and Huskies equaled that of a mother towards her newborn child. He would rise early and scrub those stocky Siberians an...

11 likes

Twists and Turns

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #91

Hello. Comrade here. Returning an overdue library book may not sound strenuous to you. Well, I’m a particularly unique person in a diverse scenario. So, yeah, your answer is erroneous if you tell me I shou...

8 likes

Writing to Myself but Also to My Children

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #90

Dear Diary, Today is another day in which I sit on this busy, talkative train on the morning route to work. I’m not just sequestered to a lonely area where I’m divulging all my pertinent thoughts. In fact, I can’t—I’m sitting...

6 likes

It's the Opposite of What You Think

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #89

TW: death, violence, abuse See ya. Altogether now, I thought, as I looked expectedly at the waves, their foamy upper lips curled above the sandy bottom lip of water. I was waiting for applause—something to roar my praises. To me. To the fact that I overcame something huge. I grinned something new upon my face. I had needed real attention. Ever since I was four, I was abandoned. I never talked to my...

8 likes

Why Would Anyone Want to Read This Story?

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #88

A fox named Lion, and a fox named Flute. They’re distinct. The former is a princess, and the latter an educated dog. They’re both young (no older than teenagers), and have parents. But they contrast in terms of the truth. Literally. Lion, a young vixen, yearn...

6 likes

Just Change, Please!

Christine Hungerford

Submitted to Contest #87

Milky’s Postal Service truck stopped with a lurch at the next mailbox. She grabbed some letters and the small white package, storing them in the metal cylinder. Shutting the door, Milky commented on the fact that every time she pulled a mailbox open, her jaw automatically dropped. But today was going to be a good day, she nodded to herself. She had a job, a house and even a small dog she dressed up every H...

7 likes