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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023
Submitted to Contest #199
She looked like an elven queen: a long green skirt; a yellow shirt, adorned with lace and fluttering in the wind; a flower crown; no shoes. For five minutes she stood on the pedestal at the square of St. Bartholomew, where the statue of the saint used to stand before the French revolution. She observed a white cloud that leisurely passed above us. It looked like a dragon, ready to eat the smaller clouds in front, then changed into an elephant, and then into a heart. She didn’t notice the kids that were chasing the pigeons next to her, the tw...
Submitted to Contest #196
“Today we discussed this painting by Toulouse-Lautrec, called Two Women Waltzing,” Janet said and showed me the painting on her cellular. The cold sun of March was shining over the balcony of the restaurant on the 49th floor of the Stick, and it was difficult to make up the details of the painting. “These people are his acquaintances,” she continued. “This dancer in the front, her name is Cha-U-Kao. She openly declared being a lesbian, and she has a male occupation – a clown. Think of it, that was 130 years ago, and today …” One of the thi...
Submitted to Contest #195
I love Isaac. Baaa. Every morning, as the day baaagins, I watch him leave his tent with sleepy eyes. He yawns and stretches his arms, and as he sees me standing by the trough his eyes glitter. Baaa. He runs to me, hugs me, and peels a stray bug that got caught in my wool during the night. He then brings the bucket, sets it under me, and milks me with his small fingers. I do my best to stand still even when he pinches me. Every day I hope that I will give more milk than the previous day, so that his parents will complement him for his success...
Submitted to Contest #192
Jared put the avocado-and-cheese sandwich and the bottle of water in his Saturday backpack, made sure the windows were closed and the switches turned off, and locked the front door. He climbed his bike and started pedaling towards Crescentville. A biker came from down the road.“Morning, Jared,” she called.Irene moved to the neighborhood ten or eleven years ago with three kids and no husband. She was tall and thin, dark skinned, with high cheek bones and long chin, and you could hear her laughter from the other side of the street.“Morning, Ir...
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