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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025
Warning: This post contains mention of a major sickness. The girl creeps towards the house, careful to stay out of the camera’s sight. Once in place, she searches the dark ground for a stone. Hands fumbling in the dark until a small rock is found. Hopefully she’ll only need one. It sails from her hand to the second story window, hitting her mark perfectly. She almost shouts her joy, but catches herself, scared of waking anyone else besides the one in the bedroom. She knows exactly what lamp turns on in the bedroom, the bright pink one that...
Warning: This story has themes of torture and mentions a weapon! I don't know why I am being called in to work today. All I know is that when my boss is as frantic as he is right now, then it’s important. My mask causes my breath to fog up my glasses. Right, the glasses. The clear, non-prescription lenses slip off my nose, finding a home in my pocket for the time being. The door to the office building rotates, allowing me access like an old friend. “Good morning, Alyssa,” says the receptionist. Alyssa isn’t my name, but she knows that, jus...
From the time a baby is born, someone reads their fate. It happens for everyone. Even if their parents can’t pay for it. They just don’t get to know what it is. Which will end up with bizarre things happening that they couldn’t prepare for. Usually, people will have their fate read later on in life if they don’t know it already. My parents were able to scrounge up just enough money to know mine. My mother would not have left the hospital without it. Her parents didn’t know her sister's fate. Which caused her to die. Her fate was to have...
The little girl ran through the forest giggling. Her feet danced over boulders and stones. Moss and grass tickled between her bare toes in a friendly gesture, showing her feet only joy and no pain. The girl finds a tall rock, scrambling up it hand over foot. She grunts in determination, yet doesn’t break a sweat. She sits at the top. A young lioness looking over her land in pride. She watches as the sun sets, enraptured by the pink and orange the sun throws around, almost careless in its beauty. The second the sun is gone, she re...
Submitted to Contest #290
The rain downpours, hitting my umbrella with thumps. Weaving my way around downtown in search of my car. The smell of pastries wafts from the brown bag by my side, forever at the perfect temperature, just waiting for me to devour them. I know the alley to my right has no shop there, just a little unused dead end, but I glance anyway, the movement instinctual. Despite the dark storm clouds above and the rain obscuring my vision, I see the furry lump hidden in the corner of the alley. It's an animal, but what kind? Slowly I creep forward, givi...
The dress shimmies down, down, down, until it’s a pool at the girls feet. She has to be quick with this. Her first target is going to notice that he just gave her some very important information, and will have a goon go looking for her in the bathroom. A purple dress emerges from her red purse that once matched the tight dress she was wearing. It’s looser, meaning it slips right on with no problem at all. It shimmers slightly in the bad bathroom lighting. The red dress disappears into the bag, right as she emerges from the stall to a b...
Rain splatters on me, soaking my hair through. My umbrella is broken. A truth, technically, but also a fib. My umbrella is not newly broken, it’s been dilapidated for months now. I walk my walk of shame through the early morning rain. Despite the cold and wet, I love the rain. It washes away everything and brings new life. I can see it now, the little spring buds popping out like fireflies in the night. Spring is the season I’m alive, when my power can truly shine. But I need the help of the rain for a little push. Even though it...
Submitted to Contest #287
The lock clicks open with the turn of Saige’s key. My cafe, she thinks. Not anyone else's. Mine. Every single penny, every nickel and dime. She poured everything she had into creating this place. The door swings open silently, the secondhand hinges having just been cleaned so they would be silent as a mouse. She doesn’t care to slow the swing of the door, to enraptured with the entirety of the building she designed. She knows every nook and cranny. Where every secondhand book is, after all, half of them came from her own collection.&nb...
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