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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2023
Sensitive content: Death and mental illness. Tate felt arms wrap around his shoulders and heard words whispered into his ear. "It's going to be okay," she said. Those words meant nothing. You see, when you were in this place of darkness and doom, words could only get so far, actions could only get so far. No matter how much intention someone put into making you feel better, no matter how much someone tried, it only got so far. When you sat and stared at the blindingly white hall of the hospital, numbness spreading like trickling tar thro...
Sensitive content: crime I squinted my eyes and tilted my head to the side. In front of me, sprouting from the rich soil in my garden in the backyard, was a blossoming flower, right in the middle of my pansies. It seemed to have unfurled its crude petals only recently, they still seemed to be held in each other's grip, warping clockwise in a colourful swirl. The colours were rather extraordinary, a brilliant orange on the outside of the petals, a delicate turquoise in the inside and shiny yellow antennae pregnant with pulpous pollen which ...
Sensitive content; illness and disease. The heat of the fireplace felt like it had doubled from where I sat in a velvet vintage armchair, the right side of my face flaming with heat - and I admit, nerves. In addition to the heat, my body felt shaky and damp. I was sitting across from the man I had always feared, admired. He had peppery hair, a nicely groomed beard, bushy eyebrows, a finely lined face and intelligent eyes. The sort of eyes that could look through you as easily as looking through glass. He now looked at me, his eyes held mi...
Submitted to Contest #207
Note: this story contains sensitive subjects such as the mention of illegal substances and death.Blood rushed through his cheeks, the cold biting at James' face. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, hunched, and looked up at the dingy windows of his home. Dark bundles of clouds rolled overhead, echoing the state of his mind. James fiddled anxiously with the pendant his mother had given him when he was just a child. How had he gotten into this mess?Just a week ago James had been walking down a street, heading to The Warlock's...
"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the silence of the set; the actors began shuffling, adjusting, muttering things to each other, themselves. "That was not it, guys! I expect more, give me more passion! Lexi, lift your arms up higher and tense them up more, really try and look like bully, get in his face...." The din on set faded in and out as I skirted around the claws of machinery and cameras, my mind floating as I went to find the script supervisor on behalf of the executive producer. The scene had been cut and shot so many times ...
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