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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020
Submitted to Contest #158
There’s a comfortability that comes with silence. The way that the background noises come into full focus. Passing cars, squeaky shopping cart wheels, and the gentle chime of bells ringing as shop doors are pushed open; all become the soundtrack of one's own life. On the right there’s a restaurant that’s been there since the seventies, you can tell by the yellowed menus that they still use. The owner Stan has been there his whole life, right behind that counter. He grew up in this place, opened his restaurant in this place, raised h...
Submitted to Contest #97
A hard, steady rain fell outside as Sofie’s slim fingers ran across the row of jackets. She felt the individual threads and materials slip through her grasp as she passed a cursory touch over each item. She had entered the store originally as a way to escape the rain that had come out of nowhere. The building was small, they had rebranded the second hand store to be a vintage clothing shop. Sofie smiled thinking about this way to upsell items, her smile hidden beneath her navy mask. It was strange how quickly things could change. They could ...
Submitted to Contest #76
It looked like a scene out of an old Italian film. The mountain range stood like a giant, as if painted onto canvas and hung carefully in the backdrop of a movie. Nearby grasshoppers sang a symphony to my ears as cars drummed in a low baritone behind me. The house was of an old Spanish design and painted white, with a red trim that matched the mountains, which were reflecting light from the setting sun. The infinite rows of orange trees, all small with leaves green, stood upright like soldiers in a small army. This place lives vividly wit...
Submitted to Contest #53
Simon had always been drawn to expression through the written word, but at this moment he was plagued by writer’s block. Even as the heat outside crept its way into his dark motel room, Simon sat firmly at his laptop staring at the words that could be; the stories that could be. He had become just another starving writer, lost in a monetized world. The local Nevada news station had said it was going to be the hottest week of the year, and as Simon sat shirtless, drenched in sweat, he felt it. The bridge of his nose was too slick to ...
Submitted to Contest #51
The stars were always so beautiful to me, and as I look up at them now, I’m still pulled by them. My dad could look at them and point out the different shapes and names of the constellations. I’ve never been into the shapes of stars or the names of planets though, I’ve always been attracted to the points connecting them. I’ve always been drawn to the darkness and the vastness within the space between the stars. As I lay down about to drift off into unconscious sleep, I looked up at the unknown number of stars that night time in Alaska off...
Submitted to Contest #50
The paper felt heavy in Andrew’s hands as he sat backstage. The red velvet curtain sat in front of him, as he heard the silent shuffle of the crowd beyond it. His stomach turned over in constant circles as he smelled the aroma of old pine wood and new paint. Nancy, the old teacher who acted as the stage manager, gave the signal to notify him that he was going on next. He could feel chills run down his body, even though the theatre must have been ninety degrees. He could feel his throat close up and tighten. His legs bounced, and his...
Submitted to Contest #48
Theodora’s bare feet sank into the soft, red sand. The warm, dry wind blew through her long, black hair. The sky was a clear blue, but a red and orange light formed a flaming horizon across it. Leaving nothing, but black behind. Theodora knew this sensation, this ability she’s always had since she was a small child. Looking around, she saw the environment that she had been forced to enter. Souls preferred different natural landscapes to make their last pit stop on their eternal journey. Theodora has walked through forests, jungle...
Submitted to Contest #47
As you sat there on that bench your words just seemed stuck in your throat. The language was trapped in an equilibrium between thought and spoken word. It was the fear that trapped you. If you said those words then they’d be out in the world, they’d be truth readily available for all to hear. And it was there, on that bench that you thought about what got you to this moment. To this point where all other points split from, where all realities are shaped and formed.The way you figure it, homecoming Freshman year was where the realities starte...
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