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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022
Submitted to Contest #214
THE CALMING INFLUENCE OF TURQUOISE It was Labour Day, the last long weekend of the summer. All the kids would be back in school come Tuesday morning, dressed in their brand new back-to-school clothes and looking too cool for school. It was the last hurrah of the summer, time to break loose and have a wild time before buckling down to long months of hard labour. Is that why it's called Labour Day? Amy and I had gone up to the cottage for the weekend, three whole days of sitting in the sun, kicking back on the dock with the beverage of o...
Submitted to Contest #213
THE SLIP OF THE HAND Margaret carried her empty coffee mug over to the kitchen sink, at the last second it slipped from her hand and crashed into the bottom of the sink, shards of porcelain exploding like shrapnel. One of the shards dug into the back of her hand. She gave a sigh of frustration as she grabbed the shard and pulled it out leaving a tiny bloody trail. She stared regretfully into the sink, it was her favourite mug, isn’t that always the way she thought? It was the mug the children in her kindergarten class had designed for ...
Submitted to Contest #211
THE COZY ROOM The curtains were halfway drawn revealing an almost Christmas card photo of the great outdoors. The snow was deep and crisp and even and it was truly a winter wonderland. The pine trees were laden with a frosting of heavy white, their boughs bent under the weight of the snow. All that was lacking was the pitter-patter of eight tiny reindeer hooves on the roof and visions of sugarplums dancing in one's head to complete the scenario. Inside, the flickering fire in the fireplace turned the formal front parlour into a cozy d...
Submitted to Contest #209
ROAD TRIP It was the jingle of a hundred bridles or so that had Brianna literally diving into the bushes in a ditch by the side of the road. There was the sound of rushing waters nearby that masked the beat of the horse's hooves and the jangle of the horse tack; bridles, bits, stirrups, and spurs; as well as the clanging of the knight's armor. At first, she had thought the beating noise was the result of a small waterfall or a cascade, or even thunder, but as the cavalcade got closer she realized there was a metal-against-metal...
Submitted to Contest #208
SUZY Q. I lived in the house for thirty years, raised seven children in it, and lost my husband in it. But now it was time to say goodbye. A lonely retired widow doesn't need an eight-bedroom house anymore. It was time to downsize and so it was also time to pack. I left the bedroom to the end, it was hard to say goodbye to the house There was a lump in my throat as I stood in the bedroom doorway. The closets hadn't been cleaned out in years, and it was a walk down memory lane with every outfit I pulled out. The dress I ...
Submitted to Contest #207
BEHIND THE SCENES “We got a bleeder here,” shouted Vince as he whipped out the clean cloth from the apron tied at his waist. He rushed over to where Karl stood swaying, looking shell-shocked, over the cutting board at the stainless steel kitchen counter; the blood dripping from his hand. Vince quickly bound the hand with his towel as he tried to calm down Karl. “It’s ok Karl, You're gonna be fine.” assured the sous chef, Vince. “For God’s sake,” shouted the Chef in irritation, “don’t get blood in those potatoes. They are Le Bonnotte po...
Submitted to Contest #206
HIS NAME IS FEAR Fear! Fear and I had become long-time friends. Perhaps friends might be the wrong word for our relationship. Perhaps acquaintances, or frenemies; now there was a word that had a trendy ring to it. Maybe it was enemies. Whatever the relationship, we knew each other intimately, for we had lived together for some time now. We first met that early spring day in the hospital a year ago. I remember Jack and I laughing all the way there, pointing out the first robin of the season in the park. Watching as it cocked its head to o...
Submitted to Contest #205
Five I couldn’t breathe. I felt my anxiety building. Escalating. I tried to take some cleansing breaths. Instead, I started gasping for air. This wasn’t working. Think of what your therapist told you. The little voice inside my brain urged me. Which one? I can’t even remember his name. Focus. I can’t. Focus on your breathing. I breathed in a deep breath, held it for a moment then breathed out. I repeated it four more times. Five was the magic number. It was working. I’m not going to die. My name is Monica. Monica James. I’m a travel ...
Submitted to Contest #199
It was the dog days of summer, the night was hot and humid, moist and sultry. The cicada bugs were droning in the trees, their endless rhythm as constant as the heat. Both relentless in their purpose. The sweat trickled down Clair’s spine, saturating her tank top, a constant stream of dampness pooling at the waistband of her shorts. She breathed in short gasping breaths. She lifted her water bottle to her face and reveled in the slight physical relief as the ice-cold bottle offered only a fragment of reprieve from the oppressiveness of the...
Submitted to Contest #198
Seth hunkered down behind a large leafy bush. He could smell a strong urine scent of an animal that had recently relieved himself close by, but his need for safety far outweighed his need for the luxury of a rose-scented bush. He could hear them coming. They were not trying to hide themselves or camouflage their numbers, why would they? They obviously had the upper hand, he was but one, they were many. Or at least there seemed to be many. They were big boys, strong boys…mean boys. Last week they had slammed him into a locker at the end of ...
Submitted to Contest #195
THE DONOR #3 Kiera Rose lay in the hospital bed and watched the drip, drip, drip of the I.V. as it ran down the pole and into the back of her hand. She turned her head slowly and carefully to the right and noticed a huge bouquet on the table parked at the foot of the bed. Further to her right a window sill covered with multicoloured roses filled her view. A virtual bower of heady floral displays and dark leafy foliage. The scent was somehow overpowering, cloying and slightly nauseating. They were all roses, of course, her signa...
Submitted to Contest #194
I’LL EAT MY HAT! It was early morning, the sun was just barely over the horizon and the catfish were biting like crazy. Already the good old boys had a string of mud cats on their fish stringer and in their pail. Jeb and Bubba were perched on the old felled log beside the crick, their bait cans at their feet. Jeb’s can was filled with chicken livers while Bubba’s can contained a mess of squirming craw daddies just itchin’ to take hold of Bubba’s sausage like fingers. They had spent the entire journey to their favourite fishing ho...
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