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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2023
Submitted to Contest #294
From : Krissy_esl@collegemail.com To : rich1990@gmail.com Jan. 8, 20--Isn’t the English language weird?Hey Richard, How’s it going? Hope you’re good.I was thinking about you last night while I was out walking. These cold nights are something else – the squeak of your footsteps, how the snow glitters all around you. You look up at the stars and it’s seriously like you can hear the chill. Anyway . . . I missed you.I was thinking today, in class. We were doing Introductions, Body, and Conclusions, an...
Submitted to Contest #274
Inspired by a recent nightmare.“Mommy? Where’s the train?”Before she could answer, Sonya heard the tell-tale swoosh of doors sealing shut. She spun around – too late – behind her was supposed to be two panes of glass, and before her, a concrete boarding platform, but now . . .She felt a squeeze on her hand. The first course of nausea rippling through her innards was pushed back by that first, most important reassurance – her daughter was still with her. Sonya squeezed back, her eyes scanning frantically across a low stone...
Submitted to Contest #222
The job description might have suggested bringing a vehicle suited for off-roading. Somehow, my sedan survived the overgrown trail with an intact undercarriage. At least I’d brought sturdy hiking boots, which took me safely down a wooded path to a cave. An aging man stumbled out of the shadows and glanced me up and down.“Feminism’s scraping the bottom of the barrel for male-dominated professions to infiltrate,” he huffed. “Not ...
Submitted to Contest #219
The first thing she noticed when she tried to move was pains all over. The next thing she noticed when her eyes opened was . . . she had no idea where she was. She sprang from the strange bed in a strange room, and a strange man approached from somewhere in her peripheral vision. He was between her and the door, so she ran for the window. Pushing up one of those old wooden sashes, she thrust her head into scorching heat. Below was nothing but tawny browns and dull greyish greens, wobbling with heat shimmer. She felt...
Submitted to Contest #218
The fizz of beer, bubbles tickling ice cubes. The spiciness of ginger, lime prickling under my tongue. The chill of a copper mug, fingertips hydroplaning over condensation. In other words, a Moscow Mule. Cold, on the back of my neck. “Because Gingers are going extinct,” I answered. “You’re the geneticist; you should know that.” Dr. Kim smiled but waited for more. “I’m 37,” I sighed, making a tick-tick gesture. “No guy and no itch to find one. A sperm donor is blecchh and adoption too ch...
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