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D.M. Ravshanov

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020

Stories (4)

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22 Followers

6 Following

4 Stories

77 karma pts

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A Governess Named Gretel, A Crow, And a Crone

Submitted to Contest #68

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. It was by all accounts, still just as breathtaking as the day she had found it. Her grandmother (one of the greats-Too many greats to be listed in succession here) had recorded it all down in her diary, and that diary had been passed down from generation to generation. Weather-beaten and magical, it had led her here to this spot as a child. It was here where she had leaned her back against the solid spine of a tree, drinking in the adventures of Ha...

10 likes

The Neighborly Coven

Submitted to Contest #65

The moon rises at approximately 6:44 p.m. in Murrells Inlet. It is All Hallows Eve, a day renowned for its invitation to tread the steps towards the otherworld. It's a cool, windy and damp evening; Contessa wraps her emerald green cloak tighter around her thin, shivering torso. She hurries along past an especially ominous looking Eastern hemlock, and past the American Holly and the Cabbage Palmetto casting eerie shadows at her feet. On her way through the woods, she passes Longleaf pines, hickory and sweet gum trees, Bottlebrush buckeye and ...

12 likes

The Secret At Allingham Castle

Submitted to Contest #64

Allingham castle stood like a cylindrical spear piercing the clouds in the distance. Alder buck-thorn, English elm, and Lilac surrounded the base of the castle, providing a fortress against outsiders. The wet and chilly October day seeped it’s tendrils through the cracked windows of Charlotte’s SUV causing a chill to run down her spine, and her grip to tighten on the steering wheel. She had momentarily put her car into park to go over the last few weeks in her memory. Two weeks ago, a certain Mr. Hans Sykes, attorney at law, had knocked on t...

17 likes

The Last Flowers

It has been snowing for five hundred and forty seven days now. I have been keeping a tally using a counting stick I made out of an old piece of palm tree wood. Everyday I make a notch in the stick, and it secures this ritual of mine. It has become a holy rite. All of the flowers are gone, and in their place there are children; new babies everywhere you look. Skinny, malnourished looking creatures, who will never know what it's like to open their windows on the first day of spring, or what it's like to drift lazily on their boogie boards in t...

2 likes