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Janey El Napier

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021

Stories (7)
Comments
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66 Followers
69 Following

7 Stories

655 karma pts

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Letters To Enola

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...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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Hotel Cushions

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...

14 likes 9 comments 9
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The Happy Trail

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...

16 likes 14 comments 14
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Gas on Palms, Bruises on Hearts

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’...

24 likes 16 comments 16
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I'd Rather Be The Thunderfly

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...

18 likes 12 comments 12
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Postcard From Pollyville

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...

15 likes 10 comments 10
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The 9PM Clock In

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 ...

38 likes 34 comments 34
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