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Julie Grayson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2025

Stories (7)
Comments
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16 Followers
26 Following

7 Stories

92 karma pts

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Ganja Granny’s Cookie Caper

Chapter One: “The Unfortunate Herb Swap” Mary Nussbaum and the Great San Marcos Mix-UpThe Texas sun hung heavy over San Marcos, casting a golden haze on the clapboard houses and live oaks that lined Guadalupe Street. At the end of a cul-de-sac dotted with lawn gnomes and "Don’t Mess With Texas" signs sat a butter-yellow bungalow. Inside, 82-year-old Mary Nussbaum hummed a hymn from Sunday’s service while preheating her oven to 350°F. Mary’s week followed a sacred rhythm: Mondays for Bible study, Wednesdays for dominoes at the San Marcos Seni...

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A Margo Peabody and Winston the Menace Goose Mystery

Submitted to Contest #310

Chapter One: A Mystery Most Middle-Aged Margo Peabody’s day began, as all great disasters do, with optimism.She flung open the creaky doors of The Whispering Tome, inhaled the scent of aged paper and Mr. Fitzgerald’s latest hairball, and declared, “Today’s the day, Fitz! No drama, no chaos, just books.”The cat, sprawled atop Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, blinked slowly—a gesture Margo chose to interpret as solidarity.The shop was its usual cacophony of charm and mild hazard. Sunlight strained through dust to illuminate the “Local Lore”...

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The Time-Loop Stranger

Submitted to Contest #309

Chapter One: 3:07 PM The espresso machine hissed like an angry cat. Alice wiped flecks of steamed milk from the counter, her eyes drifting to the clock above the pastry case—3:06 PM. Right on cue, Mrs. Penny shuffled in, ordering her usual: a decaf latte with a "scrape of foam, dear, not a dollop." Alice complied, her hands moving on autopilot. She’d been working at Grindstone Café for two years, three months, and fourteen days. Not that she was counting. At 3:07 PM, the bell above the door chimed. Alice didn’t look up at first. Thursdays ...

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The Shape of Wanting

******** TRIGGER WARNING: THIS STORY INCLUDES THEMES RELATED TO ALCOHOLISM AND ABORTION ******** Chapter One: Bonds The crisp autumn air carried the scent of cinnamon and roasted coffee as golden leaves pirouetted across the café patio. Julie traced the rim of her mug, her fingers smudged with charcoal from the morning’s sketches. Across the table, Tori laughed—a sound too loud, too bright, like sunlight glaring off ice.“Remember when you set the dorm microwave on fire trying to make popcorn?” Tori grinned, her scarlet nails tapping th...

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The Veil of Echoes

Chapter One: The House on Willow Lane Glynnis hated the way the old house groaned. It wasn’t the usual creaks of settling wood, but something sharper—a sound like whispers trapped in the walls. She’d inherited the Victorian manor after her mother vanished two years ago. Disappeared, the police said. No signs of struggle, no note. Just an empty bed and a cold cup of jasmine tea on the nightstand. The house had been her mother’s sanctuary, a relic passed down through generations of women who’d died too young or vanished too quietly. Glynnis r...

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The Peach Pit Pranksters of Augusta

Chapter One: The Art of Mischief Augusta, Georgia — One Week Before the Masters Ashley Cardin balanced on a wobbly ladder in the dim glow of her downtown studio, her paint-splattered overalls speckled with glitter. The air smelled of acrylics and peach-scented candles—her grandmother’s favorite. On the floor lay her latest project: a six-foot papier-mâché peach, hollowed out to hold… something. Something whimsical, she thought. Something that’ll make this city smile. But Augusta wasn’t exactly known for embracing “whimsical.” Not since the G...

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The Great Office Uprising: A Tale of NAP Reports, Tuna, and Triumph

Shortlisted for Contest #305 ⭐️

Chapter One: The Last Paper Clip The fluorescent lights hummed a funeral dirge over my cubicle. I stared at the mountain of "Urgent" files—neatly color-coded, alphabetized, and entirely pointless—and felt my soul crumble like a stale cookie. Across the aisle, Aaron from Accounting was muttering to his spreadsheet, still sporting the neon clown nose from yesterday’s mandatory "Wellness Wednesday." The office smelled of burnt coffee and existential dread.I picked up my stapler. Not just any stapler. The stapler. The one I’d named "Steve" durin...

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