Henri Porritt

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2022

Stories (5)

5 Stories

124 karma pts

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“A Company Called Fate” by Henri Porritt

Submitted to Contest #213

Unease quickened in his centre, as he stared at the figure draped across the lap of the man facing him. She was content, smiling. Her chest rose and fell with laughter, cheeks reddening. But there was something. Maybe in the soft flow of uniform hair, long and black and solid. Looking as if you could pluck it away in one motion. Maybe it was the stillness of her arms and hands and legs, almost ceramic. Uncanny valley, they’d called it. Back in the day of wax museums and science fiction. <...

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“This will be enough. ” by Henri Porritt

Submitted to Contest #202

SEPTEMBERI ignore the gnawing in my stomach. The hunger, and the ache. I ignore the way that I feel as if I am constantly teetering on the edge of caving, collapsing inward. Rotten at the core. I ignore it all, as I always do. There are worse curses to fall under, than the one I am in. There are worse curses to feel than the bitter sting of adolescent solitude. But I am desperate and I am cold. I am young and afraid. I am lonely.But I ignore. Allow my ignorance t...

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“Sleep, Supernova ” by Henri Porritt

Submitted to Contest #186

Content Warning: sexual assault and violence implied. Soft light creeps in through the narrow slits of the softly waving blinds, dancing off the fresh, cream walls and baptising the youthfully familial scene in warmth, a love tinted lens. A new mother, hands still shaky, eyes still flighty, gently pushes and pulls the wooden crib that rocks her infant daughter. She finds herself subconsciously whisper...

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“Saint Anthony Frankenstein” by Henri Porritt

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

3:00 am, three sharp bursts of noise break into the thick comfort of sleep. They tell me you’re gone.She disappeared.It’s a tragedy. Nothing to be done. I sit, body numb, as the echoes of some old wives tale about the ‘witching hour’ rattle in the quiet fear of my skull. Painful anticipation and shock crawling up my spine. In some sick spite - I wonder whether to pray, the sour taste of initial grief coating my tongue and twisting my mouth i...

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“Muscle Memory. ” by Henri Porritt

Submitted to Contest #184

Feet slamming against the crooked wooden planks, I race down the stairs, pulling myself around the bannister at the end. I’m here, I’m ready. Shit, glasses. Back up I go. Knuckles tight against the wheel, feet juddering. Same roads, same home. Left or right? I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on, he laughs. I laugh. How could I forget? Yet the road feels uncertain, bends and curves whirling in my eyes, ...

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Author bio

19 Doing my best. (they/them) henriporritt@gmail.com

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #185

Saint Anthony Frankenstein – read story