Dell Bell

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

100 karma pts

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“Happy New Year” by Dell Bell

Submitted to Contest #126

CW: mentions of suicide The champagne was poured early. The celebratory dinner had been served at 7:00pm sharp, crackers pulled around 8:00, the TV turned on at 10:00, but once 11:45 came, Arleen Walters let a bit of her nerve slip out with the bubbly five minutes early.  Handson Walters, who was sitting a few feet away in the living room, did not notice his wife’s slip-up. He would not have cared anyways, but the rather significant amount of alcohol in his veins made it difficult to notice much of anything, besides the impendingly ...

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“I Will Remember You” by Dell Bell

Submitted to Contest #118

(CW: Language) Mama was crying. Everyone was crying. Outside was loud but inside was louder. It sounded like the movies Sister used to watch during Halloween. Yelling and sobbing and trembling. All the types of sadness.  No one moved from their homes on the ground. I guess they thought if they got up they’d be back outside. We all just huddled there in little bundles, shivering to the beat of grief.  I tried to look around more, to see if I could find anyone I knew, to see if I could find Father and Sister, but Mama pushed me...

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“I’ll Get Back to You on the Butterflies” by Dell Bell

Submitted to Contest #110

We have plenty of time That’s what my mom said when we were at the pool together. It was second grade. We’d met 2 weeks before and were already inseparable. You were wearing a ladybug swimsuit and we laughed at the ruffles that made you look like a fancy cake. I got so cold that my lips turned blue, but when mom said we were leaving in 30 minutes we both rioted in protest.  “We have plenty of time left,” she said, “now let’s go get some ice cream.” I got strawberry, you got chocolate and we both got it all over our faces. Your mom t...

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“Salty Closet” by Dell Bell

Submitted to Contest #108

(CW: Mental illness, allusions to abuse and suicide)She didn’t hear the small pop that sounded a few inches from her face. Her muffled sadness covered it up. A few minutes passed before she lifted her eyes enough to even see it, the top of her head brushing the clothes above her. At first, she thought it was a trick of the light. When she was young, she used to play with the wetness in her eyes. She would stare up at the ceiling, squinting and opening. Squinting and opening. Watching the rays from her ceiling light distort, lengthen, an...

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