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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020
TW: Death, suicideThis is no place for the weak.This is no place for the cowardly.This is no place to be taken for granted.These rules have been engraved in my mind for as long as I can remember. Over and over and over again. It’s the first thing I hear when I wake up, the last thing I hear before my eyes wear out.This is no place for the weak.This is no place for the cowardly.This is no place to be taken for granted.I’m surprised I’m still alive. How am I still alive? Most children are thrown into the lake at birth, when the elders find the...
Submitted to Contest #134
TW: Sickness, deathI watch as the sun rises up from its sleeping place, far beneath the ground. Maybe the sun is tired of always having the same cycle, each day, over and over again. For an infinite amount of years and then some. Orange streaks fill the sky, closing out the darkness. It’s a sight that I’ve always loved, like a change in time, an end to the dark. I watch from my roof as a dazzling beam lifts itself up out of the earth. I have to squint to look at it.I watch the sunrise every day, but it never gets old. I enjoy watching t...
Submitted to Contest #98
The ash-silver river is rippling in the wind tonight. Soft ripples that bring me peace and comfort and happiness. They drift me away from my thoughts and worries and pull me to a brighter place. A nicer place. A place that’s been my destination for this whole ride. When I’m riding down the ash-silver river, I think of you as the person you are alive, the bright, loving, selfless man. Always wearing your baggy, dirty green jeans and growing your chocolatey-brown hair all the way out to your waist. Doing anything you can to help society, help...
Submitted to Contest #97
Trigger warning: Suicide I get out of bed and peek outside the attic window, gazing out at the forest around me. The mossy trees rise high in the sky. The ferns spring up out of the dirt. The road weaves its way through it all. If I look hard, I can see the lake, though it’s not much in the darkness. Just a big empty clearing. I open the window, so I can hear the sounds. An owl hooting, a cricket chirping. Something growling, far away. Tonight is my last night to ever look out at this forest, hear it’s whispers. I tiptoe across my room, av...
Submitted to Contest #96
If this guide has found it’s way into your hands, then it’s likely that you have come seeking help. And here’s what you must know, simplified. The movies talk about “love at first sight” the same way they talk about true love- like it’s a miracle, like you’re the luckiest person in the world to experience it, like it’s the feeling of every question in the world turning into an answer, everything in your life now making sense. And in a way, that’s true. But out of true love and love at first sight, one is a good thing. And one is just an allu...
Submitted to Contest #95
“Okay,” my Aunt Cecelia says, hobbling over to me. Her heels clap against the stone floor. Click, click, clickity-click. Her skin is tan, her brown hair in an updo that’s messy yet clean. A string of pearls rests around her neck, each one glinting in the moonlight. A large shoebox rests in her hands. “So… a riddle, hmm… I haven’t given one of those in a while. Ooh, I have one you’d love. There are two doors, Door A and Door B- and one leads to a safe place, while the other points you to certain death. There are two guards- let’s call them gu...
Submitted to Contest #94
I’ll look out my window. I love this part of the drive- it’s where I have a perfect view of the ocean from my spot in the seat behind where Dad is driving. If the sea were to have a temper, it will be furious today. The waves will be crashing onto the shore, crashing against each other. I’ll be able to see behind the waves too, where the usually flat water will be giving ripples bigger than I’ve ever have seen. “Now, April, honey,” Dad will say, “We’ll be picking you up at around noon tomorrow.” I’ll nod. Mom, Dad and Grace will be staying u...
Submitted to Contest #92
I look out the window, staring at the vines arranged in colorful green alleys. Grapes are growing from them. Grapes we’ll use to make our famous wine. Wine the young people will drink. It doesn't make any sense to me- everyone knows what alcohol does to you. Why consume it?It’s the late summer, meaning the vines are at the most vibrant stage of the grape season. Yet soon they’ll get duller. And by the time winter comes around, the grapes will start to go bad and they won’t produce good wine. Near the beginning of school, they’ll be completel...
Submitted to Contest #90
CHOO!CHOO!The locomotive whistles, a train’s usual high, but at the same time low sound, piercing the coal-smelling, dusty air as we take off down the tracks. We start out slow, then gain speed in the first thirty seconds. People are all around me, hoping we’ll get to Chicago for the Christmas Fair without any disturbances. I look out the window that I’m lucky to have a spot next to to see New York City’s brick buildings rushing past me. I can spot them in the distance as they're coming up, but they seem so far away. Yet before I know it, th...
Submitted to Contest #88
I lean against my wall, which has been encrusted with glittering jewels of all kinds- rubies, sapphires, emeralds, aquamarines, topazes, and on and on and on the list goes. Together, they reflect the entire room, and I can see myself through at least twenty different angles on the other side, shaded from the vibrant gems. It’s fit for a prince- probably because I am one.My father, King Rolf, opens the door to my room, and I turn to him and bow (yes, he makes his son do that.) He crosses over to my bed, four of his seven (yes, SEVEN) guards f...
Submitted to Contest #87
NOTE: You may be wondering why I selected nonfiction as a topic for a fantasy prompt (and selected fantasy as well) and that is because half of this is a real Greek myth and half of it is an extension of it that I created myself. “Look to the olive trees if you need my help in life,” Athena told me when we first met. I was but your young, average lad back then, barely eight years old and still living with my parents in a small, rickety house, a far cry from Olympus, though she, being immortal and all, was the same as she is today, l...
Submitted to Contest #85
“That’s the thing about this city,” I tell Nina, gesturing towards the tall cranes and excavators that are hard at work building comfy apartments and towering skyscrapers. Soon those buildings will be finished, and the machines will start on new ones. “It never stops changing.” We sit under a tree in the western side of Central Park, looking over the inviting blue-gray river where we can see towering beige structures like the Beresford, the Turin, the Dakota and the San Remo, shaping the sapphire sky with a hint of tourmaline sunrise above t...
Submitted to Contest #83
Dear Asher, I wish that you could be here with me. I wish you could see me get drowned by a wave and still emerge from the dark blue sea happily, getting back on my board. I wish we could laugh by the beach together, clinking tropical drinks and watching the kids build sand castles. I wish I didn’t feel so alone. I feel like eleven months after the accident I should still be mourning you, but I know you wouldn’t want that of me. I wish this trip wasn’t to ease the stress of everything for the kids. I wish this fun trip could be for a fun rea...
Submitted to Contest #77
I looked out the window and watched the falling snow drift through the air, remembering the times when I was a kid, making snowmen and having snowball fights. If only life was like that now, I thought to myself. Now I can’t do any of that. I’d like to say maturity was for fools, and that you can still be mature when doing fun stuff. But it’s not like I’m not ‘mature.’ I could go out there any time I want, but I’m just so worried about what other people would think. People say not to do that, to focus on what you find fun. Climbing trees...
Submitted to Contest #76
1953 “Grandpa, what is this?” “Grandson, that thing there’s called a sapphire. It’s our most prized possession. I won it.” “How?” “Grandson, that’s a long story.” “I’ve got time.” “Okay. The year was 1890, and I had just graduated from college. I was dirt poor. My parents had passed away a few months back, and for some far-off reason all I got from their will was a red and white quilt, a white horse named Victoria, a fast, obedient one, and a gray cat named Shelley who had six toes on her front paws. I lived out in New Mexico, a few miles we...
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