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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2019
Submitted to Contest #38
My friends, they think I’m a barrel. Rolling down a hill, or a canyon, speeding up, accelerating. Absorbing a gown of muddied leaves. Rolling into a river with my eyes clamped shut, failing to open until I’m facing the brow of a waterfall. Ready to tumble. Part of me was grateful that, due to the lockdown order, I was trapped in the one blind-spot for phone signal in the entire village. I’d rushed – or rolled as my friends would have said – into a cadre of routines. Washing the floors every Sunday, ordering a curry every Saturd...
Impressionist bubble. Sand-blown glass and he is trapped inside. A ceramic figurine, who used to lift her up and carry her home. Whose deft fingers traced the words of a book, voicing the characters as if the stories lived within him. She cried when she had to leave, balled her fists and raised her hands as if to protect herself from growing up. Sometimes, she would reach out, desperate to place her hands on the glass. Peer out of the transparent globe. He always pulled her back. Baked her cupcakes, with motorbikes made from icing. Spoke the...
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