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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2024
Submitted to Contest #297
After the explosion, time ceased to be linear. It collapsed on itself, pulling and forcing everything into a shifting nothingness. The acceptance of time in its original, primordial flow was never questioned. The laid-out sequence, the logical plan of that forward momentum, was an unconscious choice, but perhaps choices are driven by force.Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.There was comfort in its predictability, one that no longer exists. I hunker down in the past only leaving the confines of my bedroom when it is necessary, when it becomes an absolut...
Submitted to Contest #279
“You take a right at the end of this block (heartbreak). Then, you go about a quarter mile down, past the old Blackwell mansion with its decaying fence-line (internal suffering), and make a hard left. You’ll meander through the wooded property for what feels like forever (memory sifting) until your legs are weak, lungs gasping for air (anxiety-fueled panic). Through the clearing, you’ll find a stream where you can indulge in refreshment (selective remembering). Don’t be alarmed, at that point, you’ll be close. What you’re looking f...
Submitted to Contest #277
The secrets of the universe are locked up in some fantastical equation or algorithm, a cadence of numbering yet discovered, while the wiles of man are purest in word form. The careful articulations, yes, those subtle utterances are the spaces between heaven and hell.“I’m afraid.”“What are you afraid of?”“I’m afraid of falling for you.”And I kick you in the gut with a hard dissonance, because the words don’t align. There is a cosmic discord between the syllables sprung to life and the daily actions. You know this isn’t truth-telling, but you ...
Submitted to Contest #273
“Don’t tell anyone,” the words whispered from her lips with a longing desperation. She had repeated the phrase to herself innumerable times over the years, hiding away a hurtful secret. She stared at Rory, challenging him to be present in the moment, to acknowledge her sacrifice. “I never did forget you, even after all these painful years,” she wrung her hands, her upper teeth digging into her lower lip, a blunting of physical hurt to quell the tears.Night was advancing, and she strained to see his form in the shifting light. She w...
Submitted to Contest #270
Category: Main DishBest Paired with: strife, doubt, and heavy hors d'oeuvresPreheat: to an unbearable temperature; most likely to come to fruition during summerPrep time: a sad, exhausting spans of a lifetimeCook time: less than thirty secondsIngredients:-one failed marriage (optional: can include other failed marriages if available)-1/10 of your self-esteem (that’s all you have left)-ten heavily mixed drinks (stout, I mean, really stout)-a dash of stifling insecurity (dash = the whole salt shaker fell in)-two loathsome jobs (could any other...
Submitted to Contest #268
I’m not the best with words, not necessarily the spelling or grouping into a grammatical whole, but the pairing of them together into meaning. I have this sense of what holds in my heart, but then it comes out in an abbreviated awkwardness, the sounds coupled with sighs and stammerings, and I end up leaning into silence, a reluctance to own the sharing or the outcome. It is probably easier to say that I am the opposite of glib.—“I didn’t want to lose you,” that phrase keeps cycling through my head, a bunched heap of emotion.She is my excepti...
Submitted to Contest #255
Richard had ignored the signs. His had been a demise that crept upon him slowly, his self-worth stolen in the lonely work hours, validation kept from him at home. If it wasn’t the expectations of his career peeling back the last of his resolve, it was his high-strung wife with her exhaustive demands. She taxed him to the brink of collapse. His three children had pushed him to the edges of bankruptcy with their private schools, designer clothes, and rehab stints. He loved them, but they had drifted from his reach, caught in the rip current of...
Shortlisted for Contest #241 ⭐️
The betrayal needled me at a 45-degree angle. It was caustic and driven, sinking its teeth into my flesh, razor-sharp in its edge and piercing. I sat there, staring at the Skype screen, wondering if I had heard my sister correctly, an out-of-body experience that had me floating between a time when I was complete and this moment when the wind was sucked out of my lungs. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't exhale. I was suspended in a repetition of a phrase, "We are flying into St. Louis first. We won't be arriving in Memphis until the fourth of Oc...
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