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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024
Submitted to Contest #302
Lena had one job—pick up the wedding dress from the boutique and deliver it to her best friend, Tasha. Simple.Except she was running late, juggling coffee, car keys, and an overloaded bag when she dashed into the shop, rattling off the order number to the cashier.The boutique assistant disappeared behind a curtain, returning moments later with a garment bag—heavy and pristine, exactly what Lena expected.“Here you go!” the assistant chirped. “All set for the big day.”She barely glanced at it before racing out the door.Meanwhile, Jason paced i...
Submitted to Contest #298
Veronica Hayes grew up in a quiet, rural community tucked away in the Lowcountry, nestled between rolling hills and sprawling meadows. The town, on the outskirts of Summerville, was defined by its slower pace of life and close-knit neighbors.Once a curious and spirited child, Veronica had gradually settled into a life shaped by steadiness and routine. Now, at thirty-two, a quiet rebellion stirred within her—a yearning to shed the label she had worn for years: the predictable one.Every morning followed the same pattern: At 7:00 AM, the scent ...
Submitted to Contest #297
"What time is it?" Rachel whispered, her voice barely breaking the stillness of the house.The grandfather clock replied with its steady pendulum, each tick reverberated like an echo of her growing anxiety. The house, once a haven of quiet comfort, now felt like a vacuum, its silence amplifying every creak of the floorboards and groan of the wooden beams.Rachel stood in the dim kitchen, her hand trembling as she held a cup of chamomile tea. It had grown cold unnoticed, while her pulse quickened and the minutes dragged on.Jack was late. Not ju...
Submitted to Contest #296
Aaron’s voice was barely a whisper, yet the panic in his tone was unmistakable. The question hung between them, sharp as shattered glass.“What do you mean you took it?”Harper flinched, clutching the worn leather satchel tighter to her chest. Her fingers curled tightly around the cracked leather straps."I didn’t have a choice," she said, the words tumbling out like an inadequate defense against the betrayal in his eyes.The faint creak of wood echoed through the silent library, breaking the stillness. Shadows stretched across the aisles, pooli...
Submitted to Contest #295
“Are you sure that’s Uncle Joe?” Shelby whispered, leaning toward her brother, Barry. Her voice barely rose above the soft piano music and the low murmurs of the mourners around them.The chapel was dim, illuminated by flickering candles that painted uneven patterns on the casket's polished wood. The air was heavy with the overpowering scent of lilies, wrapping around her senses like a fog.“Of course it’s him,” Barry replied, glancing at her with a hint of irritation. “Who else would it be?”“I don’t know,” Shelby murmured, her fingers nervous...
Submitted to Contest #294
Ava Winter had always been defined by her words. They were her weapon, her shield, her very identity. As a journalist, she had built her career on exposing truths hidden beneath layers of deceit. Her voice—steady, compelling, unmistakable—had won her awards and opened doors to places most people could only dream of.But now, it was gone.How did this happen to me? she wondered, her eyes tracing the blank walls of her small, lifeless apartment. Each morning felt like waking into a nightmare she couldn’t escape.For six months, she had tried to p...
Submitted to Contest #293
Journey raced down the subway stairs, her heels clicking urgently against the tiles. She heard the train rumble to a stop, its brakes squealing in protest. With a final burst of speed, she slipped through the closing doors just in time, her breath coming in short, labored gasps."I made it," she muttered, straightening her coat and adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She scanned the car, taking in the weary, expressionless faces of commuters lost in their thoughts.The train lurched forward, and Journey grasped the handrail tightly to steady he...
Submitted to Contest #292
“This bike will take you places, Sadie,” her father said, his voice steady as he carefully guided the paintbrush over the metal frame. At only eight years old, Sadie’s imagination soared far beyond the boundaries of their yard, her dreams as vivid and full of promise as the deep blue paint gleaming in the sunlight.“Like where?” Sadie asked, gripping the back of her chair to steady herself. Her toes tapped the ground impatiently, eager to grab the handlebars.Her father glanced up, a quiet smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Anywhere you...
Submitted to Contest #291
Marcus grew up in a small town, raised by his single father who worked multiple jobs to make ends meet. His mother left when he was young, leaving a deep emotional scar. Whenever Marcus saw a mother holding her child's hand, he felt the sting of her absence. The emptiness gnawed at him, a void he tried to fill with distractions.In his late teens, Marcus found escape through gambling. It began innocently with small bets and friendly games, but the thrill quickly escalated. The adrenaline rush and fleeting sense of control were intoxicating, p...
Submitted to Contest #290
Mia worked as a graphic designer in a trendy downtown Seattle office. Her days were filled with creativity and deadlines, but she always made time for her morning coffee at a quaint café on her block.As Mia waited for her morning latte, she saw a man at a corner table, focused on his sketchpad. She sat nearby and noticed his drawings. The sketches showed busy city scenes with detailed strokes. Mia kept glancing at the sketches, her curiosity growing each time.Over the next few days, Mia and the man named Jack began exchanging nods and smiles...
Submitted to Contest #289
Kelsey’s heart swelled with pride whenever her father, Dennis, offered his sage advice. He upheld strong values, was a caring parent, and was well-respected in the community. As a child, Kelsey believed her dad was the kindest and strongest person ever. Dennis always supported Kelsey, offering advice that helped her overcome many difficulties. He was her go-to for guidance, always ready to help her find her way in life.Growing up in the charming town of Cedarville, Kelsey enjoyed a happy childhood. Her family was well-regarded, and their hom...
Submitted to Contest #288
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves.Sarah looked at the sky. Dark clouds blanketed the sun, turning the late afternoon into an eerie twilight. She stood on the porch of the old farmhouse, gripping the weathered railing tightly. She and her twin brother, Sam, had returned to the farmhouse to clean out their late parents’ belongings. The place was filled with memories, every corner whispering tales of their childhood.They faced an overwhelming task. Sarah and Sam cherished this house and had desperately sought ways to keep it, but it prove...
Submitted to Contest #287
In the quaint village of Willowbrook, the air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming lavender. The winding cobblestone streets were lined with charming cottages, each with its own story to tell. At the edge of town, in a small, ivy-covered cottage, lived an elderly woman named Rose. She was known to all as the village’s resident musician, her grand piano the heart of her home. Her gnarled fingers danced over the keys with the grace of a practiced artist, each note a reflection of her life’s journey.Rose had been a fixture i...
Submitted to Contest #286
In the early 20th century, a skilled silversmith named Samuel Hartman lived in the bustling city of Chicago. At the time, Chicago was a thriving hub of innovation and culture, having recently hosted the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, a grand event that showcased the arts and crafts movement.Renowned for his intricate designs and meticulous craftsmanship, Samuel created a stunning silver locket that would become a cherished Hartman family heirloom. The locket was a delicate piece, intricately engraved with floral patterns and inscribed...
Submitted to Contest #285
The chipped floral teacup warmed my hands like only old things can. The porcelain was thin and worn, almost translucent in the afternoon sun that streamed through the kitchen window. I traced the faded blue forget-me-nots with my thumb, each petal a tiny memory, and then I said it, a breath more than a whisper, “I remember...”“I remember the smell of her lavender soap,” I began, the memory vivid. “It clung to everything in the house, a strong scent that felt like a hug.” Grandma Eliza had a penchant for lavender, a comfort that permeated eve...
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