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Jane Andrews

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (88)

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513 Followers

28 Following

88 Stories

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Cosi Fan Texty: A re-imagining of Mozart’s famous opera

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #306

Dora to Fiona, Sun 8 June at 21.37Dora: OMG! Freddie’s proposed! 😊 Fiona: OMG! Congratulations! Dora: He actually got down on one knee and produced a ring! Fiona: When’s the date? Fiona: BTW, I’ve got news too.Dora: August 2026.Dora: Just noticed your other text. You mean you and Julian?Fiona: Guess who’s getting married in 12 months.Fiona: Crossed texts again.Dora: How did he ask you?Fiona: It was so corny. He said he always knew I was Miss Right but how did I fancy being Mrs Wright.Dora: Lad jokes. And technically you’re Miss Lang.Dora: St...

0 likes

A Pair of Blue Eyes

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #303

Ivy is seventeen the first time she sees Alec. She and Renee have finished their shift at the cotton mill and are walking home together when they see the crowd of people gathered round a man on a stool in the park. They stop to watch, and Renee lets out a giggle. “He’s having his hair cut, Ivy! Look!” Sure enough, the large gentleman on the stool is having his hair snipped away by a dashing young man with shiny scissors and the bluest eyes Ivy’s ever seen. With a flourish, the young man finishes his handiwork and then produces a little brush...

11 likes

Channelling Lizzie Bennet (and Bridget Jones)

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #299

The accident was definitely not Lucy’s fault. For one thing, the bad-tempered man in front of her hadn’t been looking where he was going; and for another, it was his coffee and not hers that she was now wearing on the front of the pristine white blouse she had selected for the early morning staff meeting.“Can’t you look where you’re going?” Mr Grumpy obviously thought it was her fault, not his. No apology. No “I’m sorry - can I pay for you to have that dry cleaned?”“It was your fault!” she replied spiritedly.“I hardly think so. I was just le...

13 likes

Green-Eyed Goddess

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #292

It was those green eyes that caught my attention the first time I noticed her. They were an incredible shade: almost khaki. Green eyes and long, white-blonde hair. Black jeans so tight they seemed like a second skin, and a loose-fitting black top. Striking – that was how people described her. I thought of her as Ella, my green-eyed goddess, in those first few weeks of dancing on a knife-edge between desire and despair.              I was nineteen at the time, fumbling my w...

6 likes

Secret Smile

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #292

Florence, in the Year of Our Lord, 1503:I have been commissioned to paint a portrait of Francesco del Giocondo’s wife, Lisa, once she is delivered of their second child. This is an honour indeed, for Mona Lisa is a Gherardini by birth and both families, although not wealthy, are well respected. However, the lady is not suited to her current condition for her face and hands are presently puffy and she finds it hard to heave herself from the couch on which she lies. Her little boy, Piero, is five and an angelic little cherub too! Signor del Gi...

10 likes

The Fairest of Them All

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #291

It was evening when I first saw her, but her beauty lit up the cottage like a blazing lantern. The seven of us were dirty and sweaty from toiling all day in the mine – tired too: it takes it out of you after a while – but our fatigue vanished when we beheld this lovely creature, curled up across several of our beds, dark hair fanned out over the pillow. Jon was the first to say anything. “A fairy – in our ‘ouse!” he breathed. Poor soul – he was dropped when he was a baby and he’s been a bit simple ever since. “Don’t ‘ee talk daft!” Gort ch...

6 likes

His Prized Possession

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #290

The bitter cold of winter seeps into my skin as I struggle through the snow, the child in my belly weighing me down so that I slip and stumble. I cannot turn back: my father’s house is a prison and he my gaoler. And if the babe-to-be-born is female, as I suspect…              Far off in the distance lies the safety of the village. I know not if the stagecoach has already arrived to take Jem to the London docks and the transportation ship that awaits him there. If so, I wil...

7 likes

Running Late

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #290

My phone pings as I leave the office. A message from Jenny. Table booked at the Bella Vista for 7pm. Don’t be late.              Ordinarily, I’d enjoy the prospect of Italian food, followed by a night of dancing at Jimmy’s – the hot, new nightclub that’s just opened in town. But today just happens to be my birthday – a fact I haven’t shared with Jenny and Amanda, my housemates for the past three weeks.            ...

6 likes

Eyes You Could Drown In

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #290

Lizzie’s father, Josiah, unties his neckerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead. She knows he’s trying to ignore the perspiration dripping down his back as he winds the rack and pinion to lift the paddle which will allow water to drain from the lock, bringing them downhill. It should be her brother, Daniel, doing this and Joss should be leading the horse, but Dan has a sore head from a surfeit of ale last night and her da doesn’t trust him to do the job properly. He could ask Lizzie, but she’s as slender as Dan is stocky – although rec...

5 likes

Tempus Fugitive

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #289

This neighborhood definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Amidst towering skyscrapers and opulent hotels, a squat grey building of only three stories sat looking as out of place as a dowdy aunt at the Oscar awards. Samantha Reilly checked her GPS once more: this was definitely the right place. Exiting her car, she made her way towards the unassuming looking structure, her mind running over the letter she’d recently received. “If you want information about the downtown killings, come to this address.” It was years since anyone had put pe...

8 likes

If I Fell...

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #287

The smell of sawdust assaults Arthur’s nostrils as he waits patiently for the high wire act to finish. His face is hot beneath the white greasepaint that hides his handsome face and his heart thumps wildly as he gazes upwards. One of the tightrope walkers stumbles and sways and the crowd gasps, holding its breath lest the diminutive man falls. He won’t, of course: Pippo is one of the most talented acrobats in the business. He may be small in stature, but his talent is gigantic. He is the brother of Lorenzo, the circus ringmaster, and the hus...

14 likes

Amy's Gift

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #284

‘Another glass of red.’ ‘We’re closing in 5 minutes. Sorry.’ Josh blinked blearily at his watch. ‘It’s only quarter to,’ he protested. ‘You’ve got time to pour me another.’ ‘Last orders are always 20 minutes or so before we start chucking people out.’ She was only a slip of a thing, but the girl behind the bar stood her ground. ‘Anyway, you haven’t finished that one yet.’ He tossed the liquid down his throat just to spite her. He didn’t enjoy the taste these days – but then he’d always had other reasons for drinking. What did that doctor kn...

5 likes

2000 Pieces of Sky

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #259

My first marriage lasted less than two years but was extremely eventful. Looking back now, one incident in particular stands out: a week in Aubigny-en-Artois in the north of France: a week when I realised that my husband couldn’t be trusted. It is August 1988 and Steve and I are about to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. We are both twenty-one, both students, and we have a baby girl, Lily, who is six and a half months old. Our marriage was precipitated by my unplanned pregnancy, following in the footsteps of Steve’s parents, Mark and ...

10 likes

Three's A Crowd

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #258

I re-read the letter, noting the time and date of the celebration. A part of me thinks I should go; another more cautious side of me whispers that I shouldn’t bother. But there was a time, once, when Stef was my best friend…              The cardboard box has been under my bed for so long that it’s accumulated enough dust to make me sneeze. I find a cloth and wipe down the outside carefully before removing the lid. Memories I’ve kept hidden for years stare at me – relics o...

11 likes

The Noble Heart

Jane Andrews

Submitted to Contest #257

Author's note: Technically, a tragic hero in Shakespeare's plays is someone of noble birth whose fatal flaw ultimately leads to their demise. My story is written in the vein of a traditional Persian fairy tale (think of The Thousand and One Nights) but with a tragic hero of lowly birth. You could argue that her noble heart is her fatal flaw, much like the richer Timon of Athens in Shakespeare's play of the same name. There was once a young girl and her name was Nousha. When Nousha was born, her mother breathed her last, and so it was that No...

10 likes