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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2023
Submitted to Contest #277
Jess stood at the edge of the group of teenage girls. Only a close observer might have noticed that all the conversations, the jokes,the friendly jostling and hugging was going on around her. She was there ...but not really part of it. She had become expert at this blending in, and her fixed smile, her careful mirroring of the gestures the other girls used, the carefree hair flick, the head tilt, was designed to fool all but the most attentive watchers.Because Jess knew it was a very bad idea indeed to be noticed, or singled out, or not to b...
Submitted to Contest #275
** This story contains references to road traffic accident***She sits uncomfortably perched on the wall at the top of the long garden of the Victorian semi. Beside her is the cat basket, and a tin of tuna fish, a spoon, a small cat dish and her book.Mostly, she just sits quietly, scanning the roof tops and bushes nearby for the little black cat. Periodically she tries to read a page of her book, unable to follow the story and rereading passages without understanding,but trying anyway.Sometimes she spoons a little tuna onto the dish, and gen...
Submitted to Contest #233
Dear Diary.Well here we are, 1st January again. Gosh I've overeaten again, I must try and eat more healthily....anyway, that's not the point.The point is : I need to declutter. If I'm ever going to sell the house and downsize, and let's face it I know I need to, I need to get rid of thirty year's of... of... well crap, really.So. It's time to get this stuff off to the charity shop/ Ebay/ whatever that other one's called. By the end of the month I'll have de cluttered.Mum used to have a little saying " A chuck out a day/ keeps the loony bin a...
Submitted to Contest #224
This story deals with death by road traffic accident "I can't sleep" she said to the cat. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she might have been screaming in her sleep. Perhaps she had. The bedside clock, a present for her twenty first birthday from her mother, blinked steadily. 4.21 am. The cat, Dickens, surveyed her lazily through narrowed eyes. Yawning, he stretched and smoothly jumped to the floor with a thud. He padded out of the bedroom door, and headed towards the kitchen. Jenny swung her legs out and sat for a moment, anxiety ...
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