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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024
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...
Submitted to Contest #284
Hidden beneath the surface, secrets lay dormant in the small, tightly-knit town of Brentwood. Trust was a fragile thread that held the community together, and when it frayed, the fallout could be devastating. Stella Jones, the town’s cherished librarian, exemplified trust and kindness. Her days were spent amidst the musty pages of books and the innocent laughter of children, her life defined by simplicity and routine.Stella had always found solace in books. Growing up, the library had been her refuge from a tumultuous home life. Her parents’...
Submitted to Contest #283
The rain poured relentlessly, drumming against the windows of the old Victorian house. Inside, Candace sat by the fireplace, flipping through an album of photographs that chronicled the life she once knew. Each picture captured a moment of joy, now tinged with the ache of loss. It had been a year since her husband, Alex, disappeared without a trace, leaving behind a wake of unanswered questions and lingering doubts.The police investigation had yielded no results, and the townspeople whispered their theories, each more outlandish than the las...
That tragic November morning changed everything. The storm that struck was unimaginable. Eight-year-old Brandon was killed while walking to school, hit by a speeding car driven by an underage driver. The loss was devastating and unforeseen.The loss left a huge hole in their hearts, making the idea of celebrating Christmas without him unbearable. When Ward Cunningham, Brandon’s father, saw only three stockings hung by the fireplace instead of four, it painfully reminded him of the missing family member. Where there was laughter from four voic...
Submitted to Contest #282
Lydia stood in front of the cracked mirror, an unruly mass of hair spilling across her shoulders like dark ink on an empty page. The reflection staring back at her wasn’t just hers; it was a kaleidoscope of every mistake, every lost opportunity, and every heart that she’d broken. The room was dim, lit only by the fading light of the early evening sun seeping through the sagging curtains.Lydia’s eyes traced the jagged lines in the mirror, each fracture a symbol of her fractured life. The weight of her past decisions felt like a heavy shroud, ...
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