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Kat. L Haywood

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2021

Stories (8)

Comments

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2 Followers

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8 Stories

185 karma pts

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I’d like my toaster back.

Submitted to Contest #153

Apartment wanted. 35-year-old male. Freelance journalist. Friendly, quiet, often away for work. No pets. Great references. Available to move now. Can pay in advance. When Bed, Bath, and Beyond killed me off like a daytime drama actress with cluster B personality traits, Ken moved in. Three suitcases, two plastic tubs, and a desk lamp went into the furnished room at the end of the hall. And just like that, Ken fit seamlessly into my life. True to his word, he was the ideal roommate. Amiable, discreet, did his washing...

15 likes

Dear Harold

Submitted to Contest #146

“Come on, Harold. One more spoonful. You’ve got a busy day ahead.” The woman says, and again I wonder, with fleeting familiarity, who is Harold and what cause he has to be so damn busy. But the thought becomes unsteady, teetering, before it slides into the abyss of stray thoughts that never seem to gain purchase. Then I’m a drop in a pond of the half-imagined, and everything beyond that is grey and unimportant. “Here,” fingers curl my own around a long silver instrument. “Eat up.” Though the sensation of holding a thing is absent, the blunt ...

11 likes

Inches and milestones

Submitted to Contest #139

Muscle memory told me to make eggs. To fry bacon and grill fresh sliced tomato. To catalog the remaining staples and begin my rounds of weekly linen exchange. But mundane routine had no place in our house that morning, even if every fiber of my being said otherwise. The enormity of change sat like a weight on my chest. Shallow breaths and stinging eyes. I could not shy away from it. From some fathomless abyss of motherly tolerance and strength, I stood a little straighter and promised myself I wouldn't beg him to stay. "Mom. I'm ...

12 likes

The Berman Family Picnic

Submitted to Contest #138

March 22nd. The Berman's annual family picnic. Compulsory for those with any measure of blood or marital tie to my family, and any attempt at truancy draws my mother's wrath, Helen Berman, a fate worse than death. My cousin had an emergency appendectomy just days before the big event a few years ago. My mother dragged her out of the hospital in a wheelchair, IV pole still attached. If my family's mandatory gathering was good food, great banter, and high-spirited merriment, I'd be there with bells on. But this particular picnic...

7 likes

Cat Burglar with a Moral Compass

Submitted to Contest #135

When I was 6, I wanted to be a zookeeper. Upon my brother's insistence that penguin poo could only be removed with bare hands, I opted for a career change. At 10, I was set on becoming an Olympian. That was before my sister wrestled me off the bed for touching her Ballerina Barbie. I shattered my wrist and my dreams of pole-vaulting for gold. By 15, I got smart and opted for a line of work beyond sabotage. Every spare moment went into my father’s Cessna Skyhawk. First a passenger, then a co-pilot. At 16, I flew solo. Short trips....

8 likes

Hoarding Secrets

Submitted to Contest #134

My Uncle Bart was mad. And a hoarder. I'd been convinced for years that his neglected mental health would be what dragged me back to his dilapidated house and into his troubled life. I never once considered a freak avalanche of real estate magazines, could do it too. "Take the next left and a right at Hendricks." My sister, Layla, rotated the street map for the third time. I smirked and took a right. I could have found Uncle Bart's house with my eyes closed. "Why you never had to visit the old coot when we were kids, I'll never understand."...

11 likes

The Heartless and the Solitary

Submitted to Contest #133

Thana let out a belch and slammed her empty tankard to the benchtop. A table of men at her right chuckled, then grew quiet at her pointed stare. Most knew better than to even cast a look her way, but drink made men brave. Thana didn't. Thana made men edgy and curious. Their instincts at war with their better judgment. Ordinarily, she enjoyed watching the battle play out behind their eyes. Enjoyed observing the slow death of sense and reason before they came to her like a fly to honey. But not today. Today, she was Nightshade. Poisonous. Fat...

9 likes

Pan's Messenger

Submitted to Contest #87

The messenger fluttered her iridescent wings as she hopped from foot to foot, waiting, as all of those who had gathered were. Malafawn lent against the great throne, hewn from the most ancient of the forests Weeping Willow’s. The deep fissures of its bark prickled at his hide, his thoughts astray as he considered the tremendous potential of the day if only he could escape the formalities of Pan’s court. A softness came over the Lord of the Wildlings' face as he lowered the scrawled invitation to his lap, a softness that had Malafawn’s deep b...

9 likes