Kathleen `Woods

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2021

Stories (104)

104 Stories

2480 karma pts

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“Some Pigs find a truffle in an ashen forest” by Kathleen `Woods

She’d been marching more so than running, as the vines did creep, too careful in the once dappled light above her to really see. It’s touch in her mind, a leading whisper. She’d been too young to die, though the hold of death on the young is unmistakable. But Claudia was not lost in the roots, no, she was, she was still tied down beneath the forest, as she felt the lesser King’s fire eat it away. The fores...

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“What do you do when the Shifter argues with the Forest?” by Kathleen `Woods

Alina bereaves herself of sensation, her path numbing her as she walked. She wonders if Claudia felt this way when she fell, she wonders if she’s still somewhere on this path, but she knows at the very least, she can’t trust it. Even if her vision is clearer now, Alina knows, anyone can lie. It’s one of the few things that most everyone does, if not to others than themselves. She didn’t really think tha...

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“Lost are the First and Last, but Who’s Left to look down the Well?” by Kathleen `Woods

He was looking into the wellspring of their discontent, the rope run taught from where it was tied, until it wasn’t. There’s oil in his throat, and he retches right beside it, his world is too small. Was that the stone? or was it simply shame? Twelve hours. Twelve hours and they’d lost them both. Alex pulls himself up- tries to, as his legs give out. He waits it out the expected. And he gets up.

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“A Maid in Cereraghu” by Kathleen `Woods

The Kettle sings shrilly this morning, as boiling bubbles pop in the canister. A fine last act of the night, as the sun pulls itself up the mountain side, and Yawa relinquishes her name. First tea was churned along with a breakfast, if you could call it that, of Narama-Bohne, Seed-of-Vakar and the Yi-Kopuklu the usual thing made for the ladies of the Aavabanu. An Inn built right into mount Ohchayaah, on t...

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“Nomgifpous Namtilpus, A stupid Numbers game.” ” by Kathleen `Woods

It was a dangerous thing to be directionless in a desert. More so at any hour before or after dusk, but these things happen. To put it politely, whatever led up to this rather large happenstance was likely very stupid, and was sadly very much in character. It didn’t change the dissatisfaction she had with her friend. Sharla would drag her anywhere if she let her. The thing was that it wasn’t a singular issu...

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“Who’s Eating Rich? (An experiment in writing cannibalism.)” by Kathleen `Woods

We start in an air-conditioned bathroom, with a cleaned body hung above the tub. Bleeding out, dark black to ruddy brown. This man was killed a little while before, but that doesn’t matter right now. She was hungry, and he was not to be eaten by her. It was onerous work, but someone had to do it. ‘What brings you low will make you divine.’ This is what Damasis was told. When she was young,...

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“Here’s some Alien Nation fanfiction… Just you try and judge me! ” by Kathleen `Woods

“So I caught my wife with a younger man the other day, I say the other day because I don’t rewrite my jokes until my cue-cards get dusty.” “And I say, ‘congrats, I assume you got that promotion. She of course doesn’t respond beyond nodding because to my surprise she’s riding, like, well, like some kinda, cowgirl? Is that the right word?” “And I go, ‘honey, I thought we had an agreement abo...

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“The many Downsides of an Open Face” by Kathleen `Woods

“Oh come on, it’s just chocolate. Have I really never shared before?” It was the most bitter thing he’d ever tasted at the time, but as an adult with a much clearer memory of high octane coffee, it was now the sweetest. There is nothing more childish, more decadent than the simple want for candy, and at the moment there seemed to be no craving more particular then for chocolate. Not just any chocolate, but for the rather absurdly specific type that was the memory of bitterness he’d had from the first chocolate his mother ever ...

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“If Faith were a book, than I lost it. But the Forest in the Well is kind for all its Cinders.” by Kathleen `Woods

And so the cord was cut, pulled away as it had gone slack. The curve of the wall, floor, sealing of the labyrinthine forest gaping with her decision. She could finally see clearly the forest blight of roots that had decided to bare itself to her as an enemy, but Alina knew as sure as her feet beneath her that it was sleeping. She’d felt it as soon as she did it, like that too short lifeline was the thing blind...

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“Yet another AU-UBER, (swap for &) when will it end?” by Kathleen `Woods

The porchlight flickers, and Ivan thinks for a moment. He should go back inside. And face her. Look her in the eye, and tell her why he lives by his guilt. Why her kindness broke and burned him like coal or ice. The infatuation he felt for her charitable nature, and how grounding it was to see it in her Lamented, in the Grim. Why it hurt so badly that hers was not the f...

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“What the Eye won’t swallow” by Kathleen `Woods

They watch the ever-eye that was the sun glaring down, peaceable, affable, at first, toward them. To spite the threat it held bare to them both. “We’re running out of time.” One of them says, a horrid admission. Their too soon failure.Their daughter half finished and lonesome. Their allies lost to a system in longwinded collapse.Cowardly, his wife thinks, martyrs all for a cause long lost.They were doomed.“It doesn’t matter. We can rebuild.” She doesn’t say it. They can’t he knows. Not that quick.Not wit...

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“Golden Silence” by Kathleen `Woods

She hears the smile in a stranger’s voice, and she’s sickened by it. But she listens anyway, silence was money after all, and she refused to pay for shushing him. “That’s the thing about this city, you only pay what you can’t afford, and the price will be steep if you pay at all.” It was an over-pretty way of saying, in the abstract, some notion about how not gaining is the same as a loss. Such a concept w...

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“In the memory of the Great Dame’s Grimoire” by Kathleen `Woods

The first thing the tome remembers is a greater number than one, at first and most proudly present was the hide in which it was bound, how it was cut conniving off the back of some great villain. Secondarily, was the cord, the Linen thread that held it together being spun carefully by the loving hands of loveless people. The stories the thread remembers were vastly different from the ones it’s signatures wo...

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“Raylene Elspeth does Nothing ” by Kathleen `Woods

Raylene remembers being a child, and wanting all the things that her teacher told her she would be. Wanting badly, so, so badly to escape the place she been born into, and the family that saw no future for her. She also remembered being quite a studious, over-honest child. ‘No dear, you’re not supposed to tell them about their ‘obvious marital issues.’ It’s no matter to you, and really, do you want to put u...

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“Sweet Revival” by Kathleen `Woods

She wakes up in her room, she thought, windowless and bare. But she’s quick to notice that she’s without her body, and while she might suppose she’d left it behind in the night, she could hardly parse it as even an inconvenience. She wasn’t much preferred for the things she was, so barred from her body by its own expiration she felt at peace. A bit empty, but it was better than being full of pain or resent...

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Author bio

So I’ve been contemplating this addition to my bio for a while: I’ve decided that while I’m happy to get Links in my comments to other peoples stories, I also want to get and encourage more analysis for my work. And hopefully encourage myself to do the same. Here’s an open invite: Please if you’ve posted something no matter how old on here that happens to have similarities in Subject, Character or Style to something of mine, post a link to it in the comment section of the associated work. Thanks for reading! Is it weird to say that I've learned my current writing style through instant message? you might see a preference for the fantastical, but this is mostly inexperience on my part. I believe in going first by subject then by sound, which is why I sometimes edit with an E-reader. Those who I've bothered in their comment section may be aware of its alternative use. I like knowing that unrelated people read my work sometimes. I sometimes get bogged down by my style, and by attempts at subtext. If this helps you to make the choice to comment, Remember that it's easier to cut a hemline with distance than with a mirror. By that I mean, you aren't doing anything wrong by telling me what you see, even if it wasn't intended on my part. Also I don't know whether this counts as pressure or not, but shoving opinions on my older stories is actually a really good idea, and you should do it.