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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2025
Submitted to Contest #309
It was slowly turning to winter, slowly turning to twilight, and Eleanor Graves was slowly being eaten alive.Her white fingers clenched at a battered June 1955 edition of the Australian Women’s Weekly, her eyes skimming over the same line that it had for the past hour. The twins sat at her feet whinging again, a haze of white noise; they would argue about anything if for the sole reason of annoying her. It was funny how much they took after her husband’s two great-aunts in that way. Charles Jr. was drawing with a stick in the mud again. Char...
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