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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2019
Submitted to Contest #18
Boldness. That was one crime she had been accused of. She stood in front of her mistress as still as she could manage, well aware that any excuse for punishment would be found. Her hands, tucked behind her back, itched to reach under her apron which was stained with blood fresh from the rabbits she had skinned early that morning, and into the forbidden pockets that lurked beneath. There was an object there. An object she could almost feel in her hands: smooth cool metal, long and thin. But women didn’t possess pockets, not like these, attach...
Shortlisted for Contest #12 ⭐️
Cathy’s breath caused a fog on the window, she was standing that close. It was something she did as a child, intentionally back then. Breathe, write, rub, breathe, write, rub, much to her mother’s annoyance. Is it you, Cathy who cleans those windows? No it is not. Stop, please. Causing the fog wasn’t helping her see into the place, that was for sure. Cathy took a step back, then able to make out some shapes inside the erstwhile cafe – chairs, tables, maybe the counter there at the back no longer covered in a white cloth? Hope rose for ...
Submitted to Contest #11
‘Collect some stuff from my place, would you, love? The key’s in the usual place.’ I’ve been here an hour and already my dad’s dismissing me. His voice is gravelly, barely audible. He pauses for breath. He’s in pain, despite the drip, I’m sure. He closes his eyes and begins speaking again. It’s an effort, I can tell. He’s a sorry figure of a man, my dad. Pathetic, even. His chin nicked and scabbed, from shaving I presume. He wears a hospital gown that’s tied loosely, exposing his collar bone, the skin around it liver-spotted and blue-v...
Shortlisted for Contest #10 ⭐️
‘It’s a sign.’Lucy pointed towards the white feather fluttering to the ground, narrowly avoiding Freya’s coffee and landing on the table. It rested for a moment or two, rocking gently. Both young women watched as a slight gust of wind lifted it up, carrying it onwards.‘It’s not a sign. It’s those two pigeons, up there, look, on the balcony. It’s biology. They’re, well, he’s ruffling her feathers, so to speak, and…’‘Too much information,’ Lucy said, holding up what could have been either a conciliatory or peremptory hand. ‘It’s no wonder a fe...
Shortlisted for Contest #9 ⭐️
The choice of songs comes as a surprise. Only, in truth, it shouldn’t. The song at the top of the list is one that evokes special memories. Memories that cause my ears to wince, although I can’t resist a smile at what I read either. ‘Meatloaf, cool,’ I say, keeping my voice light, bright, as though I’m in no way fazed. Mum was always tunelessly telling the world she’d be gone when the morning came at the top of her voice while washing up in a river, driving, wherever. We’d join in when encouraged to do so, but only reluctantly. And quietly, ...
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