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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021
Josh pats his pocket for the eight hundred and seventy-ninth time since leaving his car in the parking garage, making sure that the velvety ring box is still safe inside. His heart hammers in his chest and sweat trickles down the back of his neck under his button-down shirt as he approaches the Cheesecake Factory from one of Easton’s fountain plazas. He can’t think of a more romantic place to propose to Hannah than in the restaurant where their relationship began sixteen months ago. Of course, they’ve had many better dates since that fateful...
When Rika agreed to be Commander Anselm’s personal assistant, in addition to the head of electronic security and communications at the World Alliance for Supernatural Protection–or WASP, as it’s more commonly known–she had no way of knowing that babysitting an orphaned assassin-in-training would become part of her job duties. However, that is exactly what has been eating up more and more of Rika’s time for the past year and a half, or however long it’s been since the Commander came back from a raid with a stony-eyed waif called Sasha in tow....
Zaria Plamenov has never been afraid of the dark. Tonight is no different, despite the unnatural quiet of the Flame-Safe, where the only light is that of the Flame itself. Besides the eternal crackling of the Ravenmoor Flame, she can hear her own heart beating in her ears and her soft, controlled breaths. Her shoes make whispers on the stone floor as she patrols with measured steps, circling the Flame suspended in its gilded, magic-warded cage in the otherwise dark room. The Flame is a magic thing, requiring magic for fuel rather than wood ...
Phenex lounges on his throne of skulls, basking in the heat of the fiery lake nearby, when he hears the unmistakable shrieking whine of his fax machine. “What in the nine hells?” he mutters. “Who faxes anymore? It’s 2023. Surely the humans have thought of more sophisticated ways to ask to make a deal…” But no, it seems as he examines the fax machine’s output: Some mortal named Zorander Stone has buried a box at a crossroads in an attempt to summon a demon. And the call has come to Phenex, to answer or not as he sees fit. Phenex examines t...
“I can’t do it anymore, Leonard!” Rosalee sighs, dropping into her favorite rocking chair with her head in her hands. “Full moon’s comin’. You know it as well as I do. An’ I know you’ll go runnin’ into the woods for a huntin’ trip before night falls, and you say I’ll be perfectly safe–” “You’ll be as safe as I can keep you. I promise,” Leonard assures her, coming to crouch next to her chair. He takes one of Rosalee’s hands in his own, which dwarfs hers by comparison. “I love you, an’ I don’t ever wanna hurt you. The guys an’ I are workin’ o...
The old Mithwraite house looms over a thistle-choked yard and crumbling stone path leading from the sidewalk to the steps of the wraparound porch. Down the street, Darren can hear the distorted music of the county fair’s carnival rides and the screeching laughter of children, having the time of their lives under tonight’s full moon. A shiver runs down his spine as he looks up at the Victorian tower and ornate gabled roof, starkly silhouetted in the moonlight. “Go on, Darren,” his friend Carson urges. “You just have to go inside and come bac...
A grin lights up Gina’s face as she sees her best friend’s battered red Jeep come around the corner at the end of the street. She picks up her backpack and steps out of her ground floor apartment, locking the door behind her. “Saraaaaaaa!” she squeals, rushing down the sidewalk to meet the Jeep. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you’re still driving old Diablo around! Thank you so much for coming and picking me up.” “Not a problem at all, girlie!” Sara beams as she throws Diablo into park and hops out of the Jeep to engulf Gina in ...
Rain batters my windshield, making it nearly impossible to see as I ease my car down what I hope is the narrow lane leading home. Even if this road had edge lines, I couldn’t see them in the dark with all this rain. My knuckles are white as I clutch the steering wheel of Dad’s Chevy Malibu, hoping that his trust in me is not misplaced and that getting my driver’s license wasn’t a fluke. It WOULD storm like this the week after I got my license, in the dark after a long rehearsal. I’m too tired for this. Even the punchy showtunes pumping throu...
The fire on the hearth crackles and flickers, casting a warm glow around Ingemar’s sick chamber. He sits in a well-cushioned rocking chair in front of the fireplace, grateful for its warmth on this cold winter night. Although his windows are shuttered and barred against the bitter chills outside, drafts still pierce through his nightclothes wherever furs don’t cover him. His bony hands tremble as he pulls the furs tighter around himself. “Maybe getting out of bed was a mistake,” he muses in a voice raspy from disuse, and then a deep, hackin...
A bestial howl sends shivers and murmured prayers through the villagers gathered in Kervan’s stone chapel, kneeling between wooden pews in the flickering light of hundreds of candelabras. Cold stars, unaided by even a sliver of moon, give scant pinpricks of light to the darkness of the village outside the chapel, where two strong men struggle with a thrashing and shrieking boy. “Come on, now. No use struggling,” Rowan grunts. The boy yowls and squirms in response, then bites one of the hands trying to restrain him. “Ow! That’ll be enough o...
“Avery, wake up!” Mr. Hartman, Lakeview High School’s easy-going Geometry teacher, tells a student sleeping on their desk. Avery, the student in question, looks up at Mr. Hartman’s bearded face and green-and-white-checked collared shirt with sleep-blurred eyes. “What?” they mumble. “I finished the assignment already–” “Pass for you to see Principal Ludwig,” Mr. Hartman continues, his tone apologetic. “You should probably take your things with you. Only a few minutes left in the class period.” Avery glances at the clock. There’s at least ...
Have I run far enough? Sigurd cannot be sure. But the grey rainclouds are barely visible on the horizon from his vantage point beneath a tree at the edge of a farm. He drops to the ground, legs trembling. He can walk for days on end, and has many a time, but running wears him out quickly. "I should have known better," he mutters to himself. He'd known, as he was walking through those parched fields, what the consequences would be if someone saw him providing his brand of help. King Alvar's edict leaves no room for exceptions, as he knows wel...
Note/Trigger Warning: This story includes mention of sexual violence and termination of pregnancy. Nothing is graphically described. Wisteria tucks an errant lock of red-brown hair back under the scarf tied over her head, then wipes the sweat from her brow. Brewing medicine for Miss Myrtle is hot, sticky work. But Miss Myrtle has been lying in bed for three days, weak as a newborn fawn and wracked with violent coughing fits from time to time, and cannot possibly be expected to make medicine for herself, not that Wisteria would ask such a t...
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