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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2022
Submitted to Contest #256
The carriage rocks left and right as it passes over the cobblestone streets of the capital. My hands try to find something to keep me steady, but the soft pillows and cushions are all that I have to hold. I look across from me at Cyrus. He is sitting carelessly, one leg over the other, his hands clasped, his gaze lost in his own reverie. Then, he turns his head and smiles at me. “You’re sweating.” It’s the first words he’s uttered to me in weeks. “It is very hot in this carriage.” I reply. He glares at me, and I swallow a stone. The...
Submitted to Contest #255
Bernie comes out of the kitchen and puts the plate down in front of me. An itch swells up on my skin.“I don’t want tomatoes.”“You love tomatoes.”“Don’t tell me what I love or don’t love.”“Fine, I’ll take them.” Bernie moves the tomato slices onto his plate and starts to eat. He periodically looks out the window. He’s usually so chatty. I don’t feel like talking right now though, so that’s good. I pick at my eggs.“What are you doing today,” I say to my plate of quickly cooling food.Bernie keeps looking out the window, chewing slowly.“I think ...
Submitted to Contest #254
Note: I wanted to write a story about a manipulative narcissist. It ended up only being dialogue, and it was more challenging than I had imagined. This said, I would like strong critiques on how this could be improved. To whoever reads this - feel free to let loose with the critiques. Warning: Mentions of suicide, manipulation Interrogation Transcript : Margaret ThompsonDate: 05/11/1997Location: St. George Police Station, St. George, SCInterrogating Officer(s): Sgt. Patrick GreenTime at start of interrogation: 8:22 am Green: Good morni...
Submitted to Contest #248
When he found me, I was too weak and too hungry to run. I pushed myself up with trembling arms and slowly got up from the cold concrete floor of the barn and started putting the small towel away I had in my bag, asking him not to call the cops. The old man approached me from the doorway as a shadow from the early morning light creeping across the sky. He stopped about six feet away from me and slowly placed a tray on the ground. Then he turned and got a hoe from the wall and grabbed a bag of seeds and went back outside. On the tray was a bo...
Submitted to Contest #247
October 4ᵗʰ, 1921, Turkestan A.S.S.R We've arrived in the village of Derweze and have been offered a small hut for the evening. Ahmed brought some dates. He tells us it will take four days to procure the camels and provisions for the trek. Petrov is nervous. He says that the Soviets could come through any day and ask for our permits, or whatever other document they’ll choose to make up on the spot. We’re lucky to have Ahmed as a guide to take us through the old desert routes used by his ancestors. I've asked some of the locals in the villa...
Submitted to Contest #246
Lou wasn’t sure what made him more nervous, the dilapidated house with broken down cars and metal scraps as a lawn, or the encroaching darkness of the forest slowly closing in on him as night fell. He rubbed his left knuckle with his hand and swallowed a lump. “Are you sure about this Reggie?” “Don’t be such a wimp. Just do it!” Reggie said. “What if they call mom and dad?” “We’re all the way down Marlow Road, whoever lives here has no idea who we are.” Lou looked at the house and wondered if it had been beautiful once, with dark green pa...
Submitted to Contest #243
Oh Emily... It's all gone by so fast, you know? It feels like it was only yesterday that we were playing in the backyard, having a tea party or dancing together. I remember the pink walls of your room, as pink as my skin, the shaggy carpet, and your white dresser covered in stickers. Remember how you used to sneak up a bucket of water to your room and I'd spray you with my trunk? Everything got wet! Oh, mom got so mad after that one. It’s at times like these that I can’t help but think about the early days. Do you remember how we firs...
Submitted to Contest #242
My name is Charlie Benson. By day, I just go by Charlie. But by night, I go by a different name. In Germany I am known as the Schnurrbartträger. In India, the Munchh Daku. In Vietnam, I am the Kẻ cướp ria mép.I am the Moustache Bandit. And this is my confession.I am the Van Gogh of Van Dykes. The Michelangelo of moustachios. The Hokusai of the handlebar. I have travelled far and wide to freely display my art for the world. And while some may call me a criminal and a vandal, I see myself as simply another artist. For what is art but an induct...
Submitted to Contest #240
This story contains references to sexual violence, gore and abuse. Oh lord father, thank you for this day. Thank you for the cool September breeze as it kisses our tired faces, after a long day of labour. It is in these little moments, such as a sweet breeze, the smell of grass or the laughter of children, that I feel closest to you. Thank you for a bountiful harvest. We have gifted many pumpkins to the village. Thank you for Anna, her sweetness like that of honey, and her patience like that of a saint. Our daughter Dorothy is on the cus...
Submitted to Contest #239
I’ll never forget the day that man came through our village. He had a grizzled beard and arms like tree trunks and wore clothes which appeared to shimmer and change colour in the light. The whole village fell silent as he made his way through, the sound of his cane poking the ground with a satisfying “clack”, the end of which held a glowing blue orb. The wind swiped the small piece of parchment I was holding right out of my hands; a list of vegetables and spices my mother asked me to get for the soup that night. It landed right at the stra...
Submitted to Contest #238
“Good evening folks, I’m Anna Collins and this is 109.9 The Bear radio, the best station in the nation! It is Friday and it is 8pm, it’s raining cats and dogs, but you know what, that’s fine, because Friday’s are my favourite time of my favourite day of the week. You know why? Because every Friday I get to sit back and chat with YOU, my lovely listeners, about how you’re feeling. Maybe there’s something you want to get off your chest, or maybe you wanna break up with your boyfriend, or complain about the r...
Submitted to Contest #204
This story contains violent imagery and some explicit language. I never expected to be sheriff of Prosperity. In fact, I had always been under the impression that killin’ a man put you on the opposite side of the law. I guess I was in the right place at the right time. But when Delilah came bustin’ through my door, her chest heaving heavy and an ill wind at her back, the scar on my forearm started to throb. “Sheriff! A strange man just walked into town!” She said, her eyes wide and panicked. “Strange how Delilah?” “He’s…...
Submitted to Contest #188
October 25th I thought the add had been a typo, but it turns out it was real. 5000$ for a three-story mansion? I had two separate inspectors go over it and they said that other than a bit of peeling paint, the place was in great shape. The realtor told me that it was because the previous owners, who are now deceased, had set the price at 5k, when 5k was worth so much more than it is now. And now, due to some kind of legal loophole, the price was not adjusted for inflation. He also told me that because it was a bit out of the way (you nee...
Submitted to Contest #174
Warning: Graphic imagery and language. The park bench is painted with frost and I curse Dr. Fillmore under my foggy breath for dragging me out here this early. I look up and let my eyes rummage through the multiplicity of stars, the morning light only just beginning to peak out in the faintest hue over the horizon. A hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my whimsy and I turn to see Dr. Fillmore. “God, you scared me. Why don’t you have a coat on? It’s freezing-” “Come with me, now,” he says before turning around and walking briskly to...
Submitted to Contest #172
“Good afternoon sir, how may we help you today?” the clerk asks. “Pick up for Ash Deliveries,” I say quietly. “Certainly. Before we get your order, would you be interested in our-” the clerk's words are reduced to muffles as my ad blocker detects the intentions behind them. I keep my eyes down at the jewel case in front of me, my blinders filtering their gleam and shine to a gray lameness, their temptations reduced to a price tag. I can see the clerk’s reflection in the glass, her blinders and ad blockers working overtime. “No.”...
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