Janey El Napier

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021

Stories (7)

7 Stories

655 karma pts

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“Letters To Enola” by Janey El Napier

Submitted to Contest #186

CW: in comment section He’d always hated the judder. Always hated it. It felt like being in a tin can, like he was a sardine packed in oil and jelly. He knew he’d see nothing but clouds if he looked out the window. You’re cloud watching from the wrong side, Georgie would’ve said. Hey, that one looks like a dog, Dad. Dad? Do you see it? It looks like a dog, see! Woof, woof, woof. But he didn’t look out the window, couldn’t, was too busy with eyes on the blinking panel. Somewhere behind him, he heard a click. and it was terribl...

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“Hotel Cushions” by Janey El Napier

Submitted to Contest #153

CW: In comment section September 9th, Christine Maurie’s dress was her mother’s with the seams loosened, but no one needed to know that apart from them. Ma had said that through gritted teeth the first time Maurie had tried it on. Maurie hadn’t mentioned the Coty stain on them, right above the chip. It was the same colour as the wine stain she’d gotten on the dress about an hour ago, and the blood stain she’d gotten on her new especially for the day knickers the moment she’d tried them on. (Ma wouldn’t let her wear t...

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“The Happy Trail” by Janey El Napier

Submitted to Contest #143

Content warning is written in commentsThe kid wanted water but all Ted had on him was a stick of Dentyne. The tent bag over his shoulder had started hurting around the same time Benny had asked for it, thirty minutes after they started walking. Ted’s bet had been twenty minutes. He supposed that meant the kid was defying expectations for once. Benny had taken the gum and stuffed it into that quiet mouth of his with a woebegone look. Ted doubted the kid knew what woebegone meant. Ted doubted he even knew how to hammer a tent peg into the...

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“Gas on Palms, Bruises on Hearts” by Janey El Napier

Submitted to Contest #140

CW: apocalyptic event, mentions of family member death, discussions of death/the afterlife (plus small insinuations of homophobia), mild language. Adelola dropped the needle onto the record three minutes and forty-nine seconds before the world was due to end. Mr. Yorke’s crooning whine echoed around her. It flitted away from its place on the roof of the caravan, rolled down the fiberglass sides and the windswept grass and tumbled from the edge of the cliff. Evie had said this was a preposterously precarious place to park – we’...

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“I'd Rather Be The Thunderfly” by Janey El Napier

Submitted to Contest #138

CW: mentions of child abuse, domestic violence, needles/drip, strong language, panic attack situation. If Ian concentrated just right, he could make his skin glow enough to light up the entire room. Lightning Bug, Sister Dolores had called him at first. Never with a smile, never fondly, but still in a way that made him feel useful. It made him feel like she was pleased he was that way, just like Captain Bennet, and that coming to the House with all the other children was what he was made to do. Thunderfly, she began to call him wh...

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“Postcard From Pollyville” by Janey El Napier

Submitted to Contest #136

CW: mentions of child death, needles/drips, blood. Russ Carney could see through anything. Allie Creet had never found it particularly impressive. They all did something here, after all. Captain Bennet only liked children who could do things. Vicky Stevens stretched. Benny Poladi stuck. Ian Wright glowed. The new girl floated. It was all very uninteresting, and Allie was the most uninteresting and uninterested one of them all. Allie Creet vanished. Russ Carney was the only one who was good at f...

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“The 9PM Clock In” by Janey El Napier

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #109

Dot was new to the night shift. She was very much a day person – all sunshine and blonde curls and dresses that hit just the right part of her knees so that the fabric flounced perfectly. She drank lavender tea and read poetry and was rather sure that without the sunlight on her skin every morning, she would shrivel up and die. But that was probably rather dramatic. The ten-minute break between the day and night shift was like a dam between precision and insanity. Though Dot was never one for precision, soft-edged and gentle-smiled as ...

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Author bio

NOTE: For the foreseeable future, I will be removing some of my pieces from this profile to move them onto further pastures, as I no longer feel that Reedsy is the best place for them. I just wanted to let any readers know in case they're wondering where some of my stories went. ✨21✨(she/her)✨UK✨ My writing style is as erratic as the time between my story uploads. If you once read a story on my profile and can't find it anymore, it means I decided I hated it and thus deleted it from the universe. Copyright © 2022 Elizabeth Napier - All Rights Reserved. Using content without written permission is prohibited. Nothing makes me happier than seeing the little yellow dot. 🌻IG: https://www.instagram.com/jelizabethnapier.author/🌻 Listen to my story on the Unpublished, Not Unknown podcast, read out by the amazing Katie! https://open.spotify.com/episode/2lAg2tykmj8aabq0X9nu7u?si=0d45e1976541438c https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/unpublished-not-unknown/id1577467066 And now by the amazing Lady Nopeingham too! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KFrkI7HYYo My profile picture was drawn by the amazing Alexandre on Fiverr – check out their page! https://www.fiverr.com/sandreax Note from author: the opinions/beliefs spoken about within my stories aren’t meant to offend anyone and don’t always represent my own – they are merely a way to develop characters and give an accurate insight into their minds. As long as you treat others with kindness and respect, I will of course respect your own beliefs and hope you can offer me the same! Thanks for reading and sorry for this slightly out-of-my-own-character message!

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #109

The 9PM Clock In – read story