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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
Submitted to Contest #304
Dearest Mother,This dawn was a long time coming, yet I do not have long now and must get this last confession on paper. I think that was obvious from my previous letters. We are unnatural things, you and I. Looking down at my hands as I write this, I can’t help but imagine them as the pile of bone that they should be. The skin which should be dust, and the flesh that should have been food for the creeping things of death, are just as they were those many years ago when you ushered me through the gates of eternity. This makes us unnatural, th...
Submitted to Contest #295
The house was heavy that night. I wouldn’t have been able to explain it then. It was just something lurking, in the walls and under the floor. I wasn’t even sure when I noticed it, but I couldn’t ignore it once I did. And then it called my name. Like a whisper from a voice I couldn’t physically place, “Francis…” It spoke to me, floating on the air like smoke, calling my name. The first time I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard it. Then again, quiet and hissing, “Franciiissssss…” I ignored it, pushing the growing uncertainty in my chest down into m...
Submitted to Contest #293
With dread and anticipation, in even measure, Eli rapped the door with a heavy exhale. The door opened just a crack, and Stanley’s face was on the other side. The hour was late but his expression relaxed for a moment when he saw it was Eli. He released the chain and opened the door wide, leaning out to look down the hallway. “What are you doing here? Someone will see you.” He stepped back from the door, ushering him in with a quick wave. “I’ve written three letters.” Eli said. No pleading, no urgency, just the fact. He’d written ...
Submitted to Contest #193
Cory’s gut had been telling him something was up that day. It’s something he has been good at since he was a kid, being able to feel these things coming. He couldn’t really explain it, he just kind of knew. He had had the feeling since the moment he swung his feet out of bed that morning. The instant the soles of his feet touched the worn rug under the bed he knew it. He didn’t know what exactly, it wasn’t that sharply honed of a talent. He just knew it was something. Marc was on the couch in the living room down the hall. They’d trie...
Submitted to Contest #191
THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF ‘VINCE’S RELUCTANT NIGHT OUT’It’s still pretty cold, which makes me wonder where this little stand gets their flowers. The bodega owners wheeled it out last weekend to commemorate the first day of spring. My eye went right to the splash of colors in the salt stained downtown, with it’s old mills and dirty canals. Any day now we would get that vernal rain which would finally wash that salt away. Not yet, though, which makes these vibrant blooms so striking. I haven’t bought flowers in so long; I’m not entirely sure w...
Submitted to Contest #190
THIS STORY CONTAINS DEEP GRIEF, LOSS, AND DEATH. “Speak now.” It answered from the dark of the woods. “You have called and I have come.” She’s been in the ground a week. The house groans in her absence. Every settling timber seems to call out her name. The sound of it haunts me late at night. I can’t sleep. Rebecca, it calls. But she doesn’t answer. Her side of the bed is cold. Every wrinkle in the sheets lays the same as the last morning she got up to the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. But the smell of her shampoo is gone from th...
Submitted to Contest #93
Usually, the sight of the Ferris wheel going up would bring me a great amount of joy. Even at my age, it still brings me back to that time of year that promises new beginnings. School would just be starting; I would have had a whole new wardrobe. I could reinvent myself. Granted, I just had my twenty-year reunion. But early September has been cemented as this almost new year, heralded in by the carnival going up in the giant gravel lot at the edge of town. This year is di...
Submitted to Contest #92
The house was filling with the putrid smell. Martha wouldn’t dare open a window, for fear that someone would see. She sat, straight backed, severe, holding a rag over her nose and mouth. Her eyes, tired and bruised, never left the dining room table. Her brother was laid out on that table, his back contorted at an unnatural angle, a pool of blood spread out beneath him, dripping to the floor. Martha’s husband, Ray, made to remove the broken broom handle with the sharp end from ...
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