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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020
Submitted to Contest #34
Dear Emily- This is my first email to you. I've made you this email account and am going to send you letters about yourself and stories and pictures about all your best moments. My hope is that one day I'll give you the password, and you'll see without a shadow of a doubt how much I love you, Doodles. So here it goes. You turned two today and I cried a lot. You seemed genuinely concerned that I was doing so, and started to cry with me. It's okay though, you couldn't understand. It's only been a few months since your mom died, and I don't thi...
"Do we have to do this right now? It's been barely three hours since the accident. None of us have processed this." "I'm afraid it's necessary, Mrs. Raoulin." "Necessary for what? Agent...Roberts, was it?" "Yes, ma'am. You have to understand that your husband was one of, if not the richest men on the planet Earth. We just want to make sure that everything about his death was exactly what it seemed." We are sitting in the gigantic living room of the Raoulin mansion outside of Manhattan. One of twelve similar houses, I've been told. The room i...
Submitted to Contest #31
The most horrible kinds of things change your life. That's a hard-learned lesson in the world. Happiness doesn't teach good lessons, neither does contentment or joy. No. Pain and sorrow teach you lessons. Fear teaches you lessons. Loss teaches you lessons. I learned those the hard way, as most good lessons are taught. It was such a normal day. That's what I keep coming back to. The total regularness of my day. With that one, huge exception. I woke up and made a bagel with cream cheese, put some coffee in my mug, and dressed in my favorite ...
Submitted to Contest #30
I live in Texas, on the border of Mexico. Our town is almost all Hispanic people. My family and I are some of the few gringos here. But that's okay. I like that better anyway. We celebrate all their holidays and we eat all sorts of good Hispanic foods and learn about the culture in our schools. We go over to our friend's house and get hit with sandals because we didn't do our homework or clean up after ourselves. But that's okay. I like it better that way. I like being around people who are different than me. It makes me feel less alone, in ...
I have lost my cat.Her name is Khatri and I've had her for three years. Her name means warrior, which I thought was fitting. She does go to war on our curtains quite often, after all.She's been missing for a week. My parents say that she will come back soon, but I doubt it. They told me that she probably just got lost, but they're lying.I am sixteen years old, not four. I know a lie when I see one.Khatri was never my parents' favorite. She eats the fish that my dad takes out of the freezer for dinner and chews up all of my mom's shoes. She s...
I am not insane. I tell myself so often that I think I've started to almost believe it. Those words are a chant in my head, every day, every hour, every minute every second. I am not insane. I don't think that I'd be very aware of it if I was, but that's beside the point. I took my medicine this morning. Four green pills for clarity, three red ones to combat my own mind, and two blue antidepressants. I protested the last two at first but after a while, Dr. Menelis wore down my resistance. He said it would help. He always says that it will he...
Our house is alive. We were raised on that. All the generations upon generations of Nicasia's learn this. We learn it when we are born and don't stop learning it until we remember. Our house has rooms that change. We don't know how or why, but they change. Our house has seven stories, twelve main bedrooms, five bathrooms, three kitchens, two sitting-rooms, and a bathhouse. Those are the rooms that do not change. But those are just twenty-one rooms. Our house has about one hundred. But they change, so the contents of those one hundred are nev...
BEEP. BEEEEP. My alarm. It's time to get up. I groan and squish my head between my lumpy pillows. It's far too early to be awake, and even the simple thought of getting up and dealing with traffic and the noises of the city in the morning makes me want to scream. Something wet and cold drips onto my nose. I open my eyes and look in disgust at the stained and leaking ceiling of my small apartment. A second water droplet forms in the sagging part of my ceiling and I jump out of bed just as it falls. It drops down onto my pillow and I cringe. I...
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