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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #95
TW: death of a child My navy summer suit hit me in all the wrong places. I had bought it for my twenty-fifth birthday celebration years before, and had worn it exactly twice. With the more recent addition of a white blouse, it had become my funeral outfit, and I had last struggled into the jacket and skirt for my parents’ joint service. Now I pulled at my lapels and fidgeted as I waited to sign papers as part of the procedure for transporting the remains of my infant brother from Springfield, Illinois to Indianapolis, Indiana. I was the only...
Submitted to Contest #85
Laying Out the Clothes That's the thing about this city. It's easy to leave. They had never missed the place where they began their lives. They often said, “It’s a great place to be from.” Now they were back, after a flurry of hurried phone calls, and two planes that carried them from different parts of the county. They shared a hotel room, and after doing what they could at the hospital, made their way back to the house where they had grown up. Now the two sisters sat together on the bed in their mother’s bedroom in front of a sma...
⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #79
The latest round of counselors had seemed as exhausted with this kid as I was. When the shock of encountering his illegally-acquired underage pornographic tattoos had worn off, I was just tired. I looked into the face of his psychiatrist and knew that she was thinking the same thing I was: “Why bother?” But I couldn’t put it all into a folder and stack it on my desk for next week. Under his inked skin and dirty nails, my blood flowed. Or my heart’s blood anyway. He was my adopted son. I wasn’t free to mask my impatience behind a clinical s...
Submitted to Contest #77
The little bird house sagged on the branch, heavy with ice. He hadn’t gotten around to taking it down for the winter. So many other things had come to claim his thoughts, and then the season hardened with the cold. He recalled the work he and the little girl had done together on the bird house, the endless measuring and planning. Now it hung on the tree branch almost without moving, despite the icy wind. He looked out the window, and remembered her words last spring when she had picked the perfect spot to place their creation. She had tol...
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