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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020
Submitted to Contest #291
James clipped a carabiner to his waist and took a final breath of crisp morning air. Everything was set: his regulator double-checked, tank secure, depth gauge ready. After more than a decade of diving, prep was second nature. Like setting up for a procedure at the office: every tool in place, every step methodical. “Let’s get started,” he murmured, amused at the familiar rhythm. Only today, instead of a dental mirror and a suction hose, he had fins and an oxygen tank. The water lapped lazily at the dock. No boats yet, no chattering tourists...
Submitted to Contest #290
His cough disturbed the silence of the room. She faced away from him, trying to sleep while he stayed up reading papers from work, but trying in vain. His lamp cast a wan yellow glow over the blankets, and he coughed again, a wet sound that ricocheted off the four walls of the small box they called a bedroom. She cringed, a fire curling in her belly. Was it his fault? Not really. (Didn’t mean it wouldn’t bother her, didn’t mean it wouldn’t keep her up, didn’t mean he shouldn’t at least cover his mouth, didn’t mean anything at all). When he c...
Submitted to Contest #24
Jeb sat on his horse, looking back over the covered wagon train. They had traveled many miles over the past months, and still had many to go, but spirits were good. Only a few members had been lost - some to sickness, one while fording a river, and one who was just plain old. They were still 200 people strong. So far they had managed to avoid running into natives, and he thought it safe to say they would make it before winter set in. Not his worst trip, not by far. Jeb was a known wagon master, paid by large groups to ensure safe route out W...
Submitted to Contest #23
Sophia I hug my knees into my chest, watching from the window seat of the townhouse as snow falls in its unhurried manner. Just a thin layer of glass creates a marked divide - my warm little pocket of the world kept separate from the squall outside. Trees line my street - spaced out every ten feet or so - and their leafless limbs begin to collect snow, like enormous skeletons donning capes. The elderly tree in front of my window seems especially regal. With my first-floor view, I am able to see straight up the trunk to the tangle of bra...
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