Ellen Grace

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

65 karma pts

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“After Jonathan” by Ellen Grace

Submitted to Contest #97

Ruth always put more water in the kettle than she needed so that she was always ready for guests. It hardly ever happened, anyone turning up without a moment’s notice, but providence, it seemed, was on her side that day; for there was a knock on the door just after she flicked the kettle’s switch.Ruth grabbed her stick and lumbered over to the front door. Standing on her tiptoes as best as her arthritic knees would allow, she peeked through the peep hole.Her peep hole was different from the others in the building: her late h...

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“Lux Aeterna” by Ellen Grace

Submitted to Contest #27

“Quick! Hide!”Mr Grey scrabbled free from the table in the middle of the train cabin and squeezed himself underneath the seat while Aurelia took a photo of the cards on the table then rearranged them into a game of solitaire.Footsteps outside the cabin door grew louder, and then a figure – distorted by the frosted glass – appeared on the other side.A knock, followed by: “Tickets, please.”Aurelia grabbed her bag and pulled out her ticket: a piece of paper reading ONE TICKET (CHILD): EXETER TO GLASGOW OVERNIGHT. ...

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“In Drink and In Music” by Ellen Grace

Submitted to Contest #26

“Can you stop doing that, please?”“Hmmm?” Zemira followed Willa’s gaze to her fingers, lightly scraping against the table. “Oh. Sorry.”“You’ve been fidgeting all evening, what’s the matter?”“I miss my lute.”“It’s on your back.”“I miss playing my lute.”Willa took a deep swig from the tankard in front of her. Wiping the froth from her chin, she said, “You shouldn’t charge so much. The king’s putting up the taxes again next week.”Zemira slumped in her seat. “Damn war. I’ll never get h...

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“Carver” by Ellen Grace

Submitted to Contest #24

They say everyone’s got a bullet out there somewhere with their name on it. Which begs the question: who’s making ‘em?When I was a little girl, my brother went out one day and never came back. He’d gone to town to trade milk for money but come sundown he weren’t nowhere to be seen.Daddy found his body on the road the next day. Poor fool never even made it to town.Daddy said my brother had been shot once through the heart. What little money he had on him was gone, so was anything else of value. They even took the damn ...

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Author bio

Ellen Grace writes speculative fiction and poetry. She is also studying for a PhD in Theology and Religion, researching the relationship between the Christian God and nonhuman animals.