Clarissa Salman

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2023

Stories (4)

4 Stories

49 karma pts

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“From the Past, With Love” by Clarissa Salman

Sarah Jane arrives back at her apartment sometime around ten. Maybe eleven. Actually, closer to midnight when she checks her smartwatch. She can’t be blamed for her inability to identify time correctly. The three-hour drive from her mother's house had numbed her mind from the earlier events of the day. From the conversations she’d had to partake in with distant relatives she only sees once a year on Christmas Eve. From her mother’s insistence that she stay out of the kitchen while she cooked, all the while pleading for Sarah to help when she...

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“Things I Should've Said to My Ex (But Things He Said to Me) ” by Clarissa Salman

Submitted to Contest #280

“Fuck you.”“Wow, really? That’s a mature reaction.”“You don’t get to lecture me on what’s mature and what isn’t. I’m not the one that got us into this mess.”“Yeah, and I’m trying to fix it.”“How? How is this fixable?”“It wasn’t my fault. David wanted me to do it.”“David wanted you to download a dating app?”“Yeah.”“And you did it?”“Yeah.”“Signed up for a profile and everything?”“Yeah, he wanted to meet someone.”“What does that have to do with anything?”“Because that’s why I downloaded the app.”“And made a profile and everything.”“Right. So he...

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“Perspectives From A Peak” by Clarissa Salman

Submitted to Contest #244

I’ve accomplished a fair amount of stupid activities in my life, but this one by far prevails over them all as the most foolish. It’s October, but the weather in Shenandoah National Park ignores the memo. The trees around me hold steadfast onto their leaves, reluctant to discard them. The leaves themselves are hesitant to change, surrounding me in a sea of emerald shrubbery. When I look out across the valley, a few pockets of forestry have surrendered to the changing of the seasons. Though their colorings haven't reached the vibrancy o...

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“Dueling Hours” by Clarissa Salman

Submitted to Contest #224

His kisses are the sunrises I’m never able to see. Mine are the sunsets he comes home to. It is the only way we are able to tell time anymore, by our short kisses and wishful longings. We live for the passionate yet fleeting touches; An embrace of fingertips as we pass each other in the hallway, or a touch on the shoulder to indicate that yes, I am still alive and so is he, even though we are now ghosts to each other. He and I were once the same. We slept until the first few rays of light woke us up. We had breakfast at dawn when our...

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