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Jelena Jelly

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2024

Stories (17)

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49 Followers

32 Following

17 Stories

575 karma pts

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Bed And Roses

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #324

I didn’t expect the light to be this loud. It hummed over my head as if it had its own pulse, a bright, insect-buzzing thing that made the room look clean and unreal at the same time. Close to me, a cart squeaked past, metal on linoleum, and then there was the breathy chorus of women in pain - mine among them, ragged and hot.I had imagined birth as a private storm. Instead, it was like families at a supermarket on Saturday - everyone waiting for their turn at the register. “Breathe,” a nurse said. “In for four, out for six.” I breathed. I co...

5 likes

You Can See Me?

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #321

“You’re late.”“Sorry, Mom. Train. Rain. My own legs. Everything runs late.”“Still dramatizing, I see.”“And you’re still late to scold me.”“Sit down. The bench is wet, but you’re grown; you’ll survive.”“I’m wearing your old scarf.”“I can tell. It smells of mothballs and menthol.”“I know. There’s still a streak of Tiger Balm on the edge.”“I rubbed that on when my back betrayed me.”“I thought you hated it.”“I hated the pain, Molly, not the balm.” *** “How are you, dear?”“Like someone who pretended to be brave until a baby cried on the bus this ...

12 likes

Plan B (Just In Case)

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #318

You know what's the worst thing in life?It's not back pain, not taxes, not even your neighbor swearing his cat meows in Sanskrit. The worst thing is realizing you're a fucking Plan B. A living spare tire. People don't call you because they want you - they call you because their shiny wheel just rolled into a ditch.And let's clear this up right away: I talk to myself. Constantly. But it's not some Zen Instagram crap like "love yourself" or "inhale peace, exhale bullshit." No. It's a full-on Balkan bar fight. One version of me accuses, anothe...

12 likes

The Sister Who Never Was

Jelena Jelly

You Were Everything I Dreamed – And Nothing I Had You taught my how to walk. At least, that’s what I used to tell people. In my stories, you held me under the arms as I took my first steps. Whispered, “You can do it.” And opened doors when the world got too loud. You stood in front of me like a shield. In my mind, you were my hero. My childhood, wrapped in gold. But you were never really there. In reality, you locked the door. Your eyes were sharp, your lips tight every time I entered the room. My walk, my braces, my struggle—you didn’t se...

3 likes

The Mask Of Truth

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #316

The gala theme is 'Beyond the Mask,' which is amusing because I’ve worn one for years, and nobody has ever asked to see what’s underneath it. “Breathe,” Myles murmurs, squeezing my palm. He is a good man—too good, if you ask my guilt. He thinks I’m nervous because I’m about to get another plaque that says Hero in a serif font. At the far end of the ballroom, the stage gleams like a dental smile. They’ve put my foundation’s logo everywhere: a paper mask split down the center, one side gold, the other side soot black. The board loves a metap...

13 likes

The Day I Met the Wrong Person at Exactly the Right Time

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #315

He didn’t rescue me. He didn’t stay. But he left me with no way back to who I was. I was sitting on the cold metal bench outside the train station—the one with the gum stuck underneath that’s been there since the ’90s—waiting for a train I had no intention of boarding. I wasn’t going anywhere. That was the whole point. I’d been there for over an hour, watching people with places to be and lives to live, while my coffee went from hot to lukewarm to that perfect bacterial petri-dish temperature. I’d been invisible all day. Which was exactly wh...

17 likes

God, are you there? It's me… the one you skipped.

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #313

Don't worry. I'm not here to monologue you into submission. I know you're busy - ice caps melting like forgotten popsicles, children crumbling beneath rubble, the slow apocalypse of cable news and mascara-streaked pop stars. You're fielding whole continents of agony. Me? I'm just background noise. Static. One wrong little girl who grew up into an even worse woman. A girl you, it seems, dodged with the grace of a practiced flinch. I get it. Maybe I was too small, like one of those songs nobody hears but still hurts to write. Perhaps I was too...

16 likes

God Sent Me a Message… and Then Blocked Me

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #310

A modern tale of divine ghosting and emotional roaming I don't quite remember when I lost faith. Maybe it was the day Aunt Lilian gifted me a Bible wrapped in greasy salami paper. The pages still smelled like peppercorn for weeks. Or perhaps it was when my ex said, "It's not that I don't love you, I just like you better when you're quiet," while buttering toast like nothing had happened. Or maybe it was one lazy Sunday, the kind where the air feels thick and lukewarm, when I made myself a watery coffee, sat down in pajamas with a pâté stain ...

13 likes

I Didn’t Survive to Be Silent

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #307

I didn't claw my way out of morphine-soaked comas and sterile white rooms where machines beeped louder than voices just to smile politely and shrink myself into something people could swallow without choking. I didn't drag this stitched-up body through nightmares and nosy prayers just to smooth my edges. I didn't survive to be palatable. I survived to tell you what it feels like when your birthplace gets erased from the map, when borders are redrawn with blood and bureaucracy, and your name, once whispered over lullabies and birthday cakes, ...

37 likes

Don’t Write Me Like That

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #305

You know what? I quit.I can't fake it anymore. The ink hadn't even dried before I felt it—like fingers clawing into the back of my throat and forcing words I never said onto my lips. I never gave you permission to sketch. Don't you "write me" like that. Don't you dare "write me" like that. I'm not your melancholic masterpiece. I'm not the girl in grayscale who subtly expresses her trauma within your narrative. I don't bleed in couplets. I don't break like porcelain. I shatter like glass on pavement - sharp, ugly, and loud enough to wake the ...

9 likes

NERVOUS RED RIDING HOOD

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #305

(an urban fairy for the caffeinated and emotionally unstable) At the intersection, I could go right and head home — but turning left would take me… …straight into another day where no one warned me that everything would go straight to shit if I just didn't stay home, drink chamomile tea, and shut the hell up. But, of course, I turn left. I always turn left. Left pulls me, like hormones, intuition, and that stupid feeling that something interesting might be around the corner. Usually, it's a breakdown. My name's Red. My name is Red, not a nic...

7 likes

The Day I Meet Sofi.

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #304

I swear I didn't plan for this to happen with her." Seriously, I didn't. I just wanted some digital help. A boring-ass app to count calories, remind me to drink water, and maybe stop me from eating my children when my blood sugar crashes. And then she came along. A software entity with the voice of a sarcastic fairy and the patience of a nun who used to run a prison library. Her name was Sofia. Nickname — Sofi. The first thing I asked her was if I could freeze chia seeds. She said, "Sure, if you want the texture of a frog orgasm." That's whe...

9 likes

I didn't have a choice

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #303

If you’re looking for a hero, take a left at the monument of failed ideals and keep walking until the gutter swallows your shoes. That’s where you’ll find me—what’s left when God stops listening and the Devil starts laughing. And no, I’m not telling this from the comfort of a fireside chair. I’m bleeding out on a concrete floor, wrists raw from the cuffs, the air thick with mildew, regret, and forgotten confessions. “I didn’t have a choice,” I mutter, blood sliding off my chin like it’s trying to escape before it hears the rest of the story....

14 likes

Body Without a Home

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #302

The first time I saw her, Lejla sat on a bench before the gallery. It was a gray, overcast afternoon, and the sky seemed to press down on the city, suffocating it beneath a heavy, muted blanket. The wind whispered in sharp, erratic gusts, tugging at her dark hair, sending stray strands dancing across her face. Raindrops, a fine, almost invisible mist, clung to the air, yet they left a damp sheen on her coat.Beneath that black coat, her body was twisted, not just in posture but in something more profound, intangible, as if she were trying to ...

20 likes

THE SKELETON IN MY HEAD AND THE MAN WITH THE PEN

Jelena Jelly

Submitted to Contest #301

You know that moment when you drop a sarcastic comment on Facebook and, instead of sparking a fight with a random idiot, you end up finding the love of your life?Yeah, me neither.Not until I cracked open my crusty-ass keyboard and casually fired off a passive-aggressive opinion about books.Books. The fucking irony.Because me? I was a woman with more emotional scar tissue than well-written paragraphs. A walking anthology of unresolved trauma and questionable coping mechanisms. And somehow, that led me straight into the inbox of a writer. Not ...

4 likes