Jemima Forrester

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (5)

5 Stories

75 karma pts

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“Coastline” by Jemima Forrester

Submitted to Contest #31

The roads were oily, slick with rainwater and dark underneath the expanse of grey clouds. I pulled my cap down low over my forehead. I could see droplets rushing from the peaked edge and falling in front of my face.The road was lined on either side by large, detached houses, each bright in the glare of the streetlights. I followed the pavement past them, squinting through the rain to peek into their front rooms.The wind howled; it moved with great gusts, curling around houses and bending trees with its strength. I pulled my coat tighter arou...

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“The Space Between Us” by Jemima Forrester

Submitted to Contest #30

I could feel the windowsill beneath my hands, the cool wood pressing into my palms. Grand mountains stretched outside the window, snow-capped under a bright blue sky. My short, bobbed hair brushed against my neck, and then my chin as it swung forwards. A long highway stretched out alongside the mountains, curling away from them in the distance. I squinted, the arch of my eyebrows narrowing as I tried to focus on the point at which it disappeared. I looked down. The wood that I had gripped so securely was morphing beneath my fingers, broadeni...

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“Meg” by Jemima Forrester

Submitted to Contest #29

I leant backwards in my chair, the wooden frame knocking against the white wall behind me. Outside the rain fell, a steady stream sliding against the glass of the window. On her bedside table sat a small succulent, beside a vase of flowers: nothing bright, but all of them beautiful, coloured in hazy purples and linen whites. I stared at them idly, allowing my eyes to un-focus, remembering the feel of tall meadow grasses brushing against my bare legs as we’d walked through fields to reach the stretching trees and open hillsides. Meg’s hands h...

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“It Was A Really Nice Vintage Jumper” by Jemima Forrester

Submitted to Contest #28

I was leaving my boyfriend’s house when I felt his hand snake around my arm. I smiled, thinking that he was about to show me an unexpected moment of affection. We’d been together for almost three years at this point, on and off, and since we’d had a blow-out argument at my twenty-first birthday party, a couple of weeks prior, things had been better. It was feeling like a slow recovery, building the foundations for us to settle into adult, post-university stability. His house looked out onto a suburban park, a neat rectangle of grass lined wi...

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“The Last Train Home” by Jemima Forrester

Submitted to Contest #27

The flowers felt heavy in his hands as the doors slid shut behind him. They started to over-balance, clasped by the stems as they were, leaning in increments towards the window. The train pulled away from the station, and he pulled the flowers upright. He thumbed at the small card tied round the neck of the flowers, the callous edge of the card rubbing against his fingertips. He could feel where the biro had pressed into it, the outline of the words Yours always, Tom rubbing against the flat of his fingers. He’d written it before boarding th...

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Author bio

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