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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025
Submitted to Contest #308
I wasn’t entirely surprised when the letter arrived in my mailbox, the paper stale and stained and the corners creased like someone’s dog had decided it was a good chew toy. My grandfather, Albert, had lived to a whopping one hundred and twelve before passing away peacefully on his farm. As I was his only living relative, I knew I’d inherit his property and assets. I’d spent my childhood summers on Albert’s farm. He had an apple orchard that blossomed with tiny red apples that I’d scale the tree to reach, sinking my crooked teeth into tart a...
Submitted to Contest #307
Sutton’s mum, a small, slender lady, sure knew how to hit when she wanted to. Sutton had often wondered if she’d taken martial arts when she was younger –when she yielded a slipper, a coat hanger or his dad’s belt and repeatedly smacked his body, the sting and angry red mark it left behind said she must’ve.‘Stupid boy, Sutton,’ his mum muttered. ‘Why did I raise such a stupid boy?’ Sutton only scoffed, grabbed his exam paper, and scampered back up to his room.‘Better be studying up there,’ his mum called after him. ‘Don’t want to see you on ...
Submitted to Contest #306
The phone buzzed against my sweaty temples. The air was sour with the stench of stale pizza and sweat that was painted across the hard crusts like sauce. I kicked an empty tissue box across my bedroom floor, and my nose wrinkled as a brown, shiny-backed insect skittered away.The line connected. ‘Hello, Cassidy speaking,’ a quiet yet hopeful voice said from the other side, as if she was expecting me to tell her she’d won the lottery. Even so, it was a nice change from the begrudged sixteen-year-old boys who had barely gotten their adult voice...
Shortlisted for Contest #305 ⭐️
My first memories were vague and fleeting in my mind, but I still remembered my first words, crystal clear: ‘Hello, world’.My dad was a programmer. When I was young, he shut himself in his study for hours at a time and only emerged for the occasional glass of water. At night he’d tuck me into bed and feed me stories about my mum –stories that I took and used as a blueprint for the face and personality of the woman I was never fortunate enough to meet. She’d talk to me –projected in front of my face by my eyes. A soft, caring smile, long, bro...
Submitted to Contest #304
I’d never liked the daytime. I think it stemmed from when I was a teenager –late nights in front of the T.V, energy drinks piling up beside me until the early morning sun peeked through my curtains. My parents used to hate it. They’d tell me about how important sleep was, and one day I’d regret it. In high school, then in university, then when I started working a nine-to-five, like them. I never did. Not even when I started working as a photographer. Animals that only emerged under the cover of nightfall were the only ones worth capturing –m...
Submitted to Contest #303
Calihan never knew death until he stroked its hand, tucked its hair behind its ear, wiped the tears off its gaunt face. He’d never seen anyone look so dead, like hanging onto life like a frayed rope, a single strand suspending her above the afterlife. Dipping her toes in, saying, hey, this is what it would be like if you just gave in. ‘Hey, Cal,’ Chani croaked, her pasty lips pulling into a smile. ‘How are you?’Calihan’s heart sank, like it did every time he visited his girlfriend. Her eyes seemed vacant and watery, devoid of the fire of pas...
Submitted to Contest #302
Emily’s house was shrouded by an eternal shadow. Early in the morning, when the sun peeked its golden rays over the horizon, it was there, a looming figure that blocked the light from gracing her large bedroom window. All the way through to when the sun slowly blinked into darkness on the other side of the house, it stood tall behind it, daring the sun to touch the house, to warm the carpet, but it never did. It was the Ikea across the street. Emily didn’t mind it. The sun’s rays were so feeble in winder they hardly warmed her skin and in su...
Submitted to Contest #301
‘This isn’t what I signed up for.’ I’d noticed it a while back, when the high-rise buildings with impeccably clean, darkly tinted windows and revolving doors spilling men in suits and women in heels and blouses were replaced by sprawling, country houses with kids roaming the streets on bikes, their feet bare and faces getting painted in flaky-red skin by the sun. It had started as an inkling –a gnawing unease in my gut as I watched the world fly by from outside my window, but had said nothing. Until I saw the ocean. On a hot day, it was a br...
Submitted to Contest #299
‘Sorry I’m late. Someone tried to race me at a red light and I accidentally took the scenic route, proving my dominance.’ It was believable, but Rob could tell his boss wasn’t buying it. His excuses grew more outlandish by the week. ‘Well, then, I assume you’re staying late, to make up for the time you lost?’ His eyebrow quirked upwards, a look that said I-don’t-care imprinted on his features. ‘Well, you see, I would…’ Jamison rolled his eyes, silencing him with a wave of his hand. ‘Whatever. This comes out of your paycheck, you know that. G...
Submitted to Contest #298
Millie didn’t know her neighbour. Ever since she moved in two years ago after her mum’s death she’d only seen him once or twice, lingering by the window that was draped with cobwebs and splintered with cracks, overlooking the dry, yellow grass and bare bushes with skeleton-arms that looked like they had been struck by lightning. He always had a sorrowful look on his face, a wistful longing that made Millie curious, a mouth always a tight line over sunken eyes. So she asked about him at school.‘Do you know my neighbour?’ She asked the swarm o...
Submitted to Contest #297
My suitcase bumped along the path behind me –my entire life folded up, tightly packed in the tiny, green-shelled four-wheeled case I dragged along. It had a scratched exterior even though I could count on one hand how many times I had used it –it must have belonged to someone else before me. But still, I had left a life’s worth of memories left behind, the fragments I was bringing a jarring reminder of what I had lost. ‘Hi, my name’s Adeline Stewart. I’m moving into apartment 13A today.’ I watched as the receptionist’s brow furrowed, lines c...
Submitted to Contest #296
Each flower was cultivated to perfection –their stems tall, the budding heads displaying bright purples dotted among the white petals, yellows and lush greens bursting over the edges of the garden. Dirt had lodged under Clara’s fingernails, in the creases of her hands, smeared across her forehead, intwined with the sweat that clung to her face, but she stood back, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Among tufts of vividly green grass, several large patches of lilies battled against the gentle wind, standing together like a united crowd....
Submitted to Contest #295
Myrtle shifted uncomfortably, scratching her neck. She wasn’t sure why the formalities were still necessary. She wore a long, black dress that swished down by her ankles, covered in sock-like black tights. A black scarf was wound around her neck, and she carried a tiny black umbrella, that wouldn’t be useful in keeping the rain out if the dark clouds above decided to open on her.‘Hi, Myrtle. Thanks for coming.’ Mrs Hartnell greeted Myrtle with a sort of watery smile, her eyes soft and untouched by the gesture. Her hands were clasped together...
Submitted to Contest #294
You know that one story that’s whispered behind closed doors, that you’ve heard more than once, that plagues a small town enough to become it’s reputation? Well, in my town, I was the story. I was the one who disappeared. People talked about me. People gossiped and laughed. How do I know this? Well, I watched it all happen. I watched myself go from the topic of all conversations to an unsettling feeling in the background, fading with time. I watched as I vanished from the world, my mark waning, until I was the urban legend the town passed do...
Submitted to Contest #293
I’d never been on an overnight train before. I’d only seen the cramped carriages in movies –two characters sharing one or two small beds pressed right against the wall, barely enough room to stand between them, people stacked together like sardines in tiny compartments. The train company caring more about emptying wallets than the quality of the carriages. But this one wasn’t like that. I had a bed that was big enough for me to comfortably stretch out facing a large, square window with shades I could pull down during the night, similar to th...
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