Isabelle K

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

101 karma pts

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“Cruel, Cruel Irony” by Isabelle K

Submitted to Contest #169

I watch in almost comedic slow-motion as the black cat’s head turns slowly towards me. He stands at the leftmost edge of the dark street I’m currently walking down. I stop in my tracks. “Don’t you dare.” The cat cocks its head at me. Mockingly. “Don’t do it. Please.” He doesn’t break eye contact as he struts across my path, stopping at the other end of the road. He sits, lifts a paw, and begins to clean himself. I groan. I begrudgingly begin to make my way down the road again, sealing my fate. I’ll ha...

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“Moth-holes and Memory” by Isabelle K

Submitted to Contest #139

I toss a hanger aside and throw a pale blue shirt into the cardboard box. I wore that shirt to a family dinner one night, when we used to do those. Loud, awkward ritual dinners my mom dragged and hounded us all to attend every other Sunday night. That particular dinner had been down on the sand by the quiet water, and I had paired my pale blue shirt with a pale blue skirt that tickled my ankles when I walked. The skirt had twirling patterns of flowers and stars and… Focus. Back to the closet. I reach towards another shirt, this one...

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“Why I Wilt” by Isabelle K

Submitted to Contest #92

I’ve always been jealous of flowers. Roses, daisies, lilies. Sunflowers. Imagine a life like theirs. Beginning as a little seed nestled in dark, damp soil, nurtured by trickles of water and patches of sunlight. No one else to worry about beside yourself. No one to disappoint. If you need a few more days to sprout, take a few more days to sprout. You have time. Then the day comes to burst through the soil in an elegant stem, pushed upwards from your own roots. That feeling of growing stronger, taller, more beautiful. Basking...

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“Matchbox Stories” by Isabelle K

Submitted to Contest #92

The match strikes against the box, and the small flame illuminates my sister's round eyes as we huddle together in the broom closet. Light bounces off of shining cheeks, trailing down pale lips and settling on shaky hands. My sister exhales, but it's too loud right now and I beg her to hush. She doesn't understand, but she nods, letting fear and instinct be her guides. She trusts me to keep her safe, to keep us both safe, and the weight of her trust is heavy. This small light I've allowed seems ironic. It's completely unaware. Selfis...

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