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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021
Submitted to Contest #246
We’ve laughed and played and had a great time. It’s almost time to head home. I sit still on the swing and draw circles in the dirt with the toe of my tennis shoe. “I tell Chuck, “I hate that we aren’t living together anymore. I miss you.” He reaches out to hold my hand. His hand feels as warm and strong as ever. He softly says, “I know what you mean, but my leaving was unavoidable. It’s a job that I couldn’t turn down. I helping a whole lot of people.” I nod my understanding, and after taking a deep breath, I chang...
Submitted to Contest #125
Life-Changing Candy Deborah Elliott The sign in Maple’s Candy Store window read, “Sweet Wishes Fulfilled.” Every kind of candy ever created filled the sparkling glass barrels that sat on the wooden shelves. On the lowest shelves were the kids’ favorite: bubble gum, lollipops, jellybeans, jawbreakers, and those large multi-faceted candy engagement rings that the girls liked to wear on their fingers. The next level held the fancy chocolates that courting men came in to buy for their sweethearts. There were chocolate creams, ch...
Submitted to Contest #124
The Power of the Rainbow Deborah Elliott The ground shook, gray clouds boiled in the heavens, and the sea crashed into the shore with rock-shattering power. Rain was falling in great torrents, and the bitter wind was snapping and biting without mercy. The woman’s bones were weary and her resolve brittle, but still, she wrapped her cloak about her and put one foot in front of the other. The earth rolled and cracked; it spewed hot ashes that terrified her. The drifting cinders singed her skin. Repeatedly she stumb...
Submitted to Contest #123
Getting the Line Just RightDeborah ElliottThe rain was coming down and the wind was blowing fierce enough to bend the trees that shaded the front of the house. It was the kind of day that kept everyone inside. Melinda didn’t care because she wanted to work on her line anyway. She always rehearsed upstairs in the attic because no one ever bothered her there. After a lunch of chicken noodle soup and crackers, she climbed the creaking wooden steps that led to the attic. (Everything creaked in the family farmhouse.) She walke...
Winner of Contest #121 🏆
Onboard an Angel Flight Deborah Elliott An uncounted number of men and women have stepped up and served this country so that we might keep our freedoms. We should all be thankful when we get a chance to repay them. The story below is fictional, but the service that brings fallen soldiers home is real. Let us all give thanks. *** Fortunately, it had been a quiet flight so far. This night the sky was clear and peaceful, which was a blessing because shortly after takeoff U.S. Air Force Captain Matthew Marrow’s co-p...
Submitted to Contest #121
Thankfulness Died in Vietnam Deborah Elliott Dirk Graham didn’t have an iota of anything to be thankful for; it just wasn’t in him anymore. Two tours in Vietnam and two of his best friends had been killed, and a third had been listed as an MIA. Pete Blackwell had stepped on a land mine, Carl Winter’s parachute failed, and Steven Archer – the unknown made him the hardest kind of loss. While the four of them had been partners in crime forever, doing the stupid thing that kids do on the way to growing up, Steven and he had been ...
Submitted to Contest #120
Memories Deborah Elliott Jackson trailed his trembling hand over the brown leather photo album, a rough spot in his hand snagging on a crack that was along the binding. For a few seconds, he focused on the crack and wondered how long it would take for the rest of the photo album to succumb to age and handling. He glanced up and stared out the window at nothing for several uncounted minutes, and then he slid into the wooden chair; making himself comfortable on the paisley print cushion, and scooted closer to the table. Even though he s...
The Do-Over Deborah Elliott Back in my day. Cat fur for kitten britches, I’ve done it, I’m back in my day. On Sunday, I’d taken a drive through Rives Junction. When I saw a “for sale” sign in the front yard of an old farmhouse that I had always admired, I stopped to ask about it. I couldn’t imagine the Bishops ever selling the place. They’d been sitting on its front porch for as long as I could remember, and they were sitting there now. I ducked under the low-hanging branches of the cherry tree that was coved in fra...
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