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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2024
Submitted to Contest #297
Fiona Law mopped her well-arched brow and glanced at the rows of empty, high-backed wooden chairs. She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she paused for a moment before she looked again, an array of eager faces might appear and radiate an energy that calmed her.When she fluttered her eyes open, the view remained. Fiona’s heart sank to her knees.Laura, the bookstore’s assistant manager, bounced up to Fiona's table. Her tawny curls spilled over the collar of her crisp, sky blue polo.“Everything OK, Miss Law?" She tipped her prodigious chin to Fi...
Submitted to Contest #293
I hate traveling, but I go where they send me. I always do my job.I pack only essentials—meds, a change of clothes, a reward for the trip home. Nothing too extravagant—a new mystery, a set of acrylics, or a leather bound journal— to help me relax.I also like to watch people on the go.Women in gauzy pastel dress and opaque pencil skirts sashay across the platform. Clouds of lavender and citrus billowing from slender forms. Heels clicking a staccato rhythm, the wheels of their luggage rattle and rumble in their wake. They rocket through the bu...
Submitted to Contest #290
Pools of sweat glued the snug yellow romper she hated to Joanna Wilson’s caramel skin, a small discomfort for the price of freedom. School began in less than three weeks, and she wanted to spend as much time doing what delighted her most-video games at night with her older brother (when he was willing), tarty Lemonsicles from the truck that stopped on their street in the afternoons, and plump, sweet strawberry halves with her waffles for breakfast. Joanna treasured time spent away from her mother, with her demands to “help out” while she mad...
Submitted to Contest #287
“Are you OK?” The voice in Daniel’s ear was a slow trickle of honey spilled over rocks, sweet and rough. He dropped his slim brown hands, dotted with drops of bright crimson, into his lap.The woman beside him, probably old enough to be his grandmother, clutched a beige tote bag between gnarled, leathery fingers. Her swollen legs squeaked against the plastic chair, a dissonant chord in the symphony of the white tiled waiting room— the buzz of the fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and endless pages for specialists.“Are you inju...
Submitted to Contest #286
“...And they’ll have a choice, to stay here or go home to their country of origin, with their families. You’ll see, it’ll be good for them, great for everyone.”Mama said we’re leaving tonight, and I have no idea where we’ll end up. I’m so scared that I’ll leave behind something I really need. I adore this house. It’s kinda small and very old, with a crooked picket fence and a red brick chimney we never use anymore. I love the picture windows in the living room. On a snowy day, I look out, and the view reminds me of a page in a storybook...
Submitted to Contest #283
Lucy Winston hadn’t planned to spend this night alone. The others assured her that it was the quietest night, with most families out at midnight Mass before they returned home for small gatherings. It was better than being on-duty Thanksgiving Day, when old family feuds spilled over and led to calls to the station. That was last month, and Lucy was now a full-fledged deputy in her hometown. She loved the holidays on the farm with her grandparents and aunt, but only tolerated the cold. When the old heater kicked to life with a groan, a s...
Submitted to Contest #281
I see everything, and honestly, sometimes I really hate that. It’s too much at times, being an omnipresent creation, pressed into service at a moment’s notice. I’m a man-made device, created to document experiences and reveal what’s real. I can’t do tricks, capture souls or add ten pounds, as many believe I do. And you might think it’s great to witness the proudest moments of a life, and usually, it is. I illuminate beauty, ugliness, and everything in between, that reflects an imperfect world. At least, that’s what those who hold me aim to d...
Submitted to Contest #274
Samuel went for his evening walk. It was an early sunset, the kind of evening when everyone rushed home for comfort and company. Samuel had neither, so he walked, scarred wooden cane in hand, into the woods to assuage his solitude. He loved the outdoors in any weather and every season, especially Autumn. Waning light and a chill blanketed Samuel like a well-loved patchwork quilt, not unlike the ones Lucella wove for Andy and Rachel on nights like these after Supper. Plumes of hearth smokesnaked through the air, from the fires that cooked hea...
Submitted to Contest #272
Teresa peered out the window into the blue violet darkness while Joanie cowered behind her. “What was that?” It was a windy night, and the oak tree’s branches danced in the wind, far too close to the shutters“It’s so dark, and I’m scared, Terri.” The girl wrapped her face in the folds of Terri’s slate maxi skirt. “We’re safe. There’s nothing out there.” She pulled the curtain back into place with a trembling hand, then jiggled the lock on the back door. Joanie moved with her. ”I want my mommy, Terri.” She threw herself onto the til...
Submitted to Contest #270
Love is messy. Some people can’t live without it, the chaos and the confusion, and they will give everything for love. Charlie never understood the fuss, content to work and find fulfillment in her friendships. “You just haven’t met the right person, Char,” Her best friend Mary rinsed a plum in the sink. “Do you want anything else while I'm in here?”She yanked another eggroll from the box. “No thanks Mar, I’m good."“Are you really, though?" Mary sank into the armchair and pried the tag from the wrinkled skin of her fruit. "You need some...
Submitted to Contest #268
(This story deals with family violence and mental health issues.)Erin hated everything about Summer, especially the bugs, the storms, and the furnace of humidity when she stepped outside her front door. That morning, she reached inside the mailbox and grabbed a bundle of envelopes. She spotted the fallen postcard near the potted ivy when she dashed out the door for her run. She received one from Aunt Linda when she visited Paris, a trip Erin missed due to her diagnosis three years before.Erin flipped the card and read the message twice. Her...
Submitted to Contest #265
Everyone told me I was brave, but I wasn’t. I also hated being alone, so I read to pass the time, especially during that summer. I packed books I bought at the Book Fair, and not much else, to get through the flight there to see her. I missed my Mom, but I really wanted to stay home. I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder, and Daddy backed the car out of the driveway. I envied kids I knew who traveled to see one of their parents by car, or rode a bus, which Daddy insisted wasn’t very safe. I’d flown before, with both my parents, b...
Submitted to Contest #264
I’ve never been in love, and if I never have a relationship, I’m OK with that. I’m not one of those women of a certain age who hates men or shuns traditional values. Our parents were married for more than four decades, and both of my sisters have been wed for years-one more successfully than the other. I’m just not the marrying kind, and I'm perfectly content to fly solo. So when my friend Terri invited me to her summer wedding (her second marriage, by the way), I decided to accept the invitation, decline the “plus-one”, and support the woma...
Submitted to Contest #262
I hurled the damp pillow across the bed, too heated and keyed up to get some sleep. It was the hottest week of the summer so far, 81 degrees at 2:20 am, so I scooted underneath the ceiling fan for some relief. The house was fine, lovely really, but I hate heat of any kind, except to warm myself in the depth of winter. Fall is my favorite season, and I had at least six more weeks of discomfort, and less than half of that for this much-needed vacation. My friend and agent Elena had arranged for my stay here in sunny tropical south Florida...
Submitted to Contest #261
Christmas is my favorite holiday, but I planned to never celebrate again. Anyone who had been abducted and held by domestic terrorists, might not be in a festive mood, even in the most joyous of seasons. My phone beeped again, and I deleted yet another message. My email had never been this full, flooded with words of appreciation and support, along with requests from media outlets and advocacy groups to “share my experience with others.” But what about the women who were actually tortured and subjected to experimentation? How could the...
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