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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
Submitted to Contest #105
The awesome foursome huddle into the corner of the staffroom. Swanky Geoff in his tweed waistcoat and matching tie, lounges on the bottle green armchair. His best mate, Fuckwit Frenchy, prefers the seat with wheels. The tailored office chair. And Luscious Lucy, her rectangular glasses perched at the edge of her nose, sits on a seat stolen from the canteen. Middle-aged Marian opts for the comfiest chair, where the spongy fabric sucks you inwards. “How was your last lesson?” Swanky Geoff asks. Using his left palm, he hides the remains of a ...
Submitted to Contest #76
Marie sits in front of the mirror, her reflection beaming back at her. Tomorrow is a big day. Lucy has invited her out with Martin’s friend. It is a perfect opportunity to mingle and maybe even meet someone. Her fingers pat the top of her head and follow her hair to its end. Imagine if she was blonde and not a cross between a chocolate brown and a bunt umber, and if the sun tinted her skin in shades of amber and not bleached her pink. She traces her lips, her pinky finger rubbing the rims of her mouth. So thin and flat—hardly inviting. She...
Submitted to Contest #75
Ariana sits on the foam laced chair in the waiting room. Her head rests against the cool brick wall as her eyes pursue the new piece of abstract art added to the room's collection. Bold, striking colours blended together with obscure patterns. She loses herself in the painting, her brain working overtime to figure out what is hidden amongst the swirls and lines of paint. It is the red that pulls her in, such a passionate colour yet something deadly. Something that forces her fingers to stroke the scars on her wrist. “Dr Fisher is ready to s...
Submitted to Contest #72
I deserved him. My body was cold, and it needed warmth. My insides empty and my smile appeared only on my lips, missing my eyes. I had forgotten what it felt like to have fingers run through my hair, to have a person stand back and admire me like I belong to a wall of fine art. In the moment it was simple. An action without consequences, movements without repercussions. It was only the two of us existing in our tiny world. His smooth skin rubbed against the cracks forming across my face, and my dry hands measured the width of his growing c...
Submitted to Contest #64
The sturdy door of the old library slides open and standing a metre inside is my silvery eyed boss. Her long hair sways in the aggressive breeze, and her porcelain skin, like fluorescent light, glows. Hidden inside her tailored suit is her curvy body. A figure of eight hugging her bones. Her face reflects her personality, a tattooed snarl pulling her lips upwards and her menacing eyes observing your every move. If you don’t meet deadlines, she will never scream, but she will, with those very eyes, insult you. Sometimes I pinch myself, I am s...
Submitted to Contest #56
IT ripped me apart. This thing I am holding. A tear so bad a fresh layer of blood was added to the artwork of already traumatic birth. It has been an over week and still peeing burns. “There, there, don’t cry.” I rock IT, side to side, a figure of eight. “Is it food you want?” My breasts are raw, torn to pieces by IT’s aggressive mouth, tongue, a fricking razor blade hidden inside. I whop them out, a part of me I once dressed in lace and satin. They now sag, reaching the rolls on stomach, and my nipples expand with every feed. “Aaaah.”...
Submitted to Contest #54
I wander down an aisle, staring aimlessly at the dairy free milk. Soy, almond, rice, so much choice it is confusing to know which to buy. They are in rectangular cartons and offer the promise of a healthy alternative. They are different to the milk I remember, the plastic bottle with a handle, fitting perfectly into the shelf attached to the fridge door. And its creamy taste, filling you up on a morning and sending you to sleep at night. According to the list in between my fingers, I am intolerant. It happens as you get older and must choose...
Submitted to Contest #51
Trigger warning: depictions of suicide The long-haired girl with gigantic eyes and rosebud lips leans into me. “I have a gift.” She whispers, revealing her teeth and the dimple in her cheek. “It came from my mother’s side. We see those who have passed.” “Wow.” I grin. “Must be cool.” She sips her vodka coke and moves in closer. “You know those that take their own life don’t get to pass to the other side. They are still here on earth.” I move my blouse over my wrist, clenching it tight in my fingers. I leave the conver...
Submitted to Contest #50
“What if I tie a rope around a branch and then around my neck?” The curve of Joe’s lip points upwards, but his eyes are vacant, hazy and lost. “I would never get over it.” I tilt my head back and fight away the tears. Joe moves over to me and pulls me into his chest. He kisses the top of my head and rubs his left cheek over my mane. “I will never leave you.” He whispers, running his fingers down my arm. I take his hand, and we wander into the only place we are free. Fragrances of minty grass and damp earth flow freely through our noses, ...
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