Heather Winslow

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2022

Stories (4)

4 Stories

191 karma pts

?

“From Feral to Tame” by Heather Winslow

Submitted to Contest #187

I watch my human as the giant machine comes to a halt. Jesus Christ, is this over yet? I hate car rides and my belly feels like it was spliced open. My sense of being must have escaped through my stomach because I feel fucking weird. My human lifts open the giant machine door. I look through the silver bars and smell the scent of hay, manure, honeysuckles, and the other familiar smells I have grown accustomed to in the past year. I am home! My human pinches the buttons on the outside of what appears to be a giant bathroom box cage (At leas...

2 comments 2
Read story

“Romantic Exposure Therapy” by Heather Winslow

Submitted to Contest #144

He puts his arms around me, in a gentle and non-overbearing way—this is still new to me. He then reaches his hand above and away from our faces and takes a picture. My face looks pale, but I love it. The field of wildflowers that resemble their maker the sun, is our backdrop. I am glad he took this photo. It will remind me of the time I was sick, and my new love still showed up that weekend with soup and a bouquet of flowers. We continue to walk on the trail. I am dizzy, weak, and out of breath. Somehow the strong grip that is wrapped aro...

4 comments 4
Read story

“The Guru” by Heather Winslow

Submitted to Contest #143

The forest was the classroom. The two-and-a-half foot, mocha skin, boy version of myself who had just turned three, was my Guru. His name is Oliver Sambit. His middle name means “consciousness” in Bengali, his father’s parents’ native language. After leaving his dad the previous winter and venturing through the kingdom of single parenting, with a pandemic that seemed endless, along with a custody battle that felt equal to the battle of Iwo Jima in terms of trauma, then finding out my dad was arrested for malicious acts that I refuse to write...

2 comments 2
Read story

“Abbott, Costello, and the Island of Cancer Sticks” by Heather Winslow

Submitted to Contest #140

I remember sitting in the smallest room of Wal-Mart. “Why wouldn’t he look at me?” I growled in my head. Oh well. I guessed I deserved it. I peeled the skin around my thumbnail and a dribble of blood started to pool in the corner of my finger. I had nothing to wipe it with, so I quickly wiped it on my pants. My twelve-year-old stepbrother Will had barely made a sound since we got there. He just looked down at the table with his hand overlapping his face and tiny brown curls. My Mom had left me with my Dad months earlier, now I was pr...

8 comments 8
Read story

Author bio

Ghostwriter, comedy writer, Earth guide to two offspring, producer and performer in comedy shows, lifelong learner (University of Virginia), learning to overcome trauma through retelling my stories through the scope of humor. I got your back, if you got mine.