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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2023
Submitted to Contest #220
I remember the day that altered everything. It feels like it was only yesterday, but in truth, it was decades ago. The kitchen air filled with cinnamon scented steam. Nana and I were having a baking marathon, filling another empty Saturday afternoon with our favourite pastime. “Darling, would you get me the brown sugar from the pantry?” Nana asked. I loved baking with her. It had always been predictably fun. It was when I felt my most carefree. Nana had a knack for baking, and she loved involving me in it. She never seemed to m...
Submitted to Contest #219
Sensitive topic warning - themes of death and imprisonment. This is my home; it's a funny kind of home. The walls are cold to the touch. They have shiny paint that covers bumpy plaster. Names are scored into it – messages that have been painted over, written and painted over again. Thoughts have been recorded there and then muted with cheap emulsion. I have scratched my own into it too, but they will soon be erased with fresh paint for the next tenant. I have four equidistant walls. If I stand up and stretch my arms like an eagle, I can to...
Submitted to Contest #218
If I could give it zero stars I would. The funny thing is the name of the restaurant should have been a warning in itself. It was called the Michelin Star Inn. It didn’t really have a Michelin star; that false claim was just a cheap marketing ploy. I wonder on reflection if any inns have Michelin stars. They’re too homey for fine dining, but still, I fell for it. That makes me feel idiotic, knowing that their laughable promotional idea worked on me. I thought I was reasonably intelligent, but I’ve questioned my own brain power since that day...
Submitted to Contest #217
“It’s the most haunted house in the country,” said Orla. I could instantly feel a shudder of fear travelling through me. My body felt as cold as unbreakable ice shards. I didn’t want to go there. I was always afraid of the spiritual world. I tried my best to back out of it, but Orla wasn’t having it. “Christa, you have to come. It’s for you. I can’t tell you the details, but you just have to be there.” I didn’t know why she needed me there. If she wanted to put herself in harm’s way, why did I have to tag along? I couldn’t think of a...
Submitted to Contest #216
Her feet are at the poolside, placed on the very edge, toes primed for the plunge. Her body is a stiff, unwieldy skeletal structure. Her bikini feels like bondage and the unforgiving sun roasts her exposed back. Sara is stuck in limbo – one that exists between the solid and watery worlds. Everyone around her is laughing and squealing, as if they’re mocking her fear as she inches forwards. She tries to drown out the sounds, but it is impossible. Everyone is in full-fledged holiday mode, except for her. This is her moment: the one she worried ...
Submitted to Contest #215
Satan’s smiling at me. I don’t know why I’m shocked to see him; I invited him here. He looks much more alluring than I could have imagined. He doesn’t have any horns, nor is he red with a pitchfork. He looks like a pleasant man: good looking and friendly but with eyes that are hypnotically evil. He reminds me of a serial killer I’ve seen in a documentary – one of the affable ones you couldn’t help but like, despite knowing the monstrosities of which they are capable. He is easy to talk to, welcoming, cheery – everything that no one exp...
Submitted to Contest #214
Saturday’s sunset was spectacular. Every one of us was sad to see it going to sleep, but its departure was a beauty that only the sky could produce. We looked at one another, knowing that we were sharing that bittersweet ending to our holiday. We had to fly home the next day and none of us wanted to. We were in Lake Garda and the weather had been glorious. We’d lounged by the pool in surroundings that bordered on the divine, and the following day, we had no choice but to go back to the dull, dark UK. Remote weather-watching told us that rain...
Submitted to Contest #213
Sensitive content warning: emotional domestic abuse and control. I haven’t been touched in five years. I can’t remember what it feels like anymore. My life has become so robotic; it’s hard to tell what I’m feeling anymore. My husband told me he was a good man. That should have been the first cause for alarm bells, but I took him at his word. I trusted him from the minute we met, because why wouldn’t I? I had never met someone of his calibre before. Coexistence is hard when someone dehumanises you daily. I walk into the same room as him at...
Submitted to Contest #212
Sensitive Content - References disease and death. Dear Mummy, I’m writing like I promised I would. God knows how many weeks it’ll take for this letter to reach you. It took two months to get here on the boat. It wasn’t what I’d imagined. Did you know they call them Coffin Boats? A fifth of the passengers on board died of Yellow Fever. I was one of the lucky ones, I think. This land of opportunity isn’t exactly what I thought it would be. We didn’t get a glorious fanfare of a welcome when we stepped off the boat. In fact, I could feel the...
Submitted to Contest #211
Nothing stood out about Greta. She lived in a little cottage with a welcoming glow in the windows. She seemed to lead a quiet existence. She kept her house tidy and did all her own chores. She was vivacious for an eighty-year-old, but not to the point in raised any eyebrows. She kept up the habit her mother had taught her, of baking a loaf of bread each day. She’d grown up in the Great Depression and she knew how to squeeze the best value out of a dollar. Her kitchen was simple, but it was always sparklingly clean. The aroma of bread brownin...
Submitted to Contest #210
“They’re not how I thought they’d look at all,” said Rachel, reflectively. “You just assume they’ll look like all the pictures we’ve seen.” “If you went to Biblical times and saw Jesus, you’d probably think the same thing. People make guesses at things, but they’re usually wrong.” “It’s hard to be accurate about something you’ve never seen.” “True,” said Kerry, sighing. “We were lucky not to know anything then - they’re coming in droves now.” “Yeah, it might take a while, but I think they’ll eventually completely take over.” “What was wrong ...
Submitted to Contest #209
“We’re locked in,” said Karen, sullenly. “What’s new?” asked Phil, picking at the bobbles on the fabric of the seat. It'd had a speckled texture to it when it was new, but it hadn’t aged well. “Something exciting might happen, you never know.” “Does anything exciting ever happen?” Karen peered out the window. There was no one around them, except a few vacant cars with no other passengers locked in the back seats. Driving to the pub wasn’t unusual then, neither was driving home. “What do they do in there for so long?” Karen asked. “Drink t...
Submitted to Contest #208
Perfect, perfect, perfect; that’s how every day of our lives is. In this world of pink, I am a humble member of the cast. I have the luck to wake up to it every morning. Everything appears in different hues of pink. That’s my favourite colour. It’s everyone’s favourite colour here. When the pink is pure, we know that all is well in our world. It’s like a barometer of what’s going on. Pink is perfection.I get up every day and step out of my veiled bed. I walk across the plush carpet that feels like velvet beneath my feet. My nails are perfect...
Submitted to Contest #207
“Cut!” Everyone snapped out of what they’d been doing. They were like dreamers beckoned back to disappointing reality. They all looked at the one stern face. The room was unfathomably expansive. Everyone watching the filmed version sees the set, but they don’t see the surroundings that seem to go on for miles, with hundreds of people, cameras, microphones on poles. It’s like stepping back from the world and seeing the rest of the universe. You realise that the set only contains a small section of a story, and it often has a different atmo...
Submitted to Contest #206
Claude was always chasing ghosts. He’d promised Julia that he’d be back in ten minutes, but more time than that had elapsed, and he was nowhere to be seen. The house was so fragile looking; it almost seemed to sway like a leaf in the breeze, but it was made of brick and mortar. Its lack of upkeep was the problem. It had been standing there since Victorian days, but with no maintenance in decades. Julia still thought it had a beautiful face, but behind the face lurked bad thoughts. It was famous in the neighbourhood for being condemned. Julia...
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