Kerensa Rybak

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

69 karma pts

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“Hitting our Stride” by Kerensa Rybak

Submitted to Contest #81

I am looking at myself in the mirror tonight, dissecting my appearance the way women often do as they get older, when I realize I no longer feel familiar with myself. Where once my breasts were alabaster and full of life, and for many years, with milk to feed my children, they are now a roadmap of blue veins and stretch marks. Skin from my pregnancies now sits loose on my hips, and no amount of situps will alleviate it. My hair, once a wild mane of brown curls is now striped with gray, thick and wiry near my temples. This woman isn't the one...

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“Beautiful Eyes” by Kerensa Rybak

Submitted to Contest #81

Standing across the room, Renee finds herself in a cliche, as she gazes upon The One Who Got Away. It's been a decade, but the years have been kind to him, and she cannot tear her eyes from his face. It isn't until she is jostled from behind, and a splash of coffee surges over her cup that she shakes herself from her reverie. The coffee shop is bustling, the early morning crowd ebbing and flowing with the train schedules, commuters in a self absorbed rush, caffeine acting as their lifelines. Renee has come to this particular shop several tim...

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“Love, your original dad ” by Kerensa Rybak

Submitted to Contest #79

They always say based on a true story, and I so often want to ask just how true? Did they change the names or did they change the plot or the ending or did they write it the way we all look in a mirror- like it’s all true but only as much as we can see the truth?I was only eighteen months old when he left, and I would be hard pressed to tell you where he went. When I was much younger than I am these days, my fantasies would include a dashing, misunderstood man whose main goal in life would be to find his long lost daughter. Realistically, I ...

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“Godesses” by Kerensa Rybak

Submitted to Contest #79

She wasn't always this way, and she has to remind herself of this fact each day as she pushes down her panic. It's become an unfamiliar existence; the mundane small lifeboats scattered in the tumult, made up of routine and normalcy, are now few and far between, and the sense of drowning is as tangible as the pills she takes to block out the day. He is always downstairs, and the rage and wallowing engulf the rooms of her beautiful house, she can feel it creeping up the stairs, and even when she is playing with her children, she is suppressin...

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Author bio

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