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Kristina Warlen

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020

Stories (14)

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11 Followers

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14 Stories

199 karma pts

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Filed Under Aesthetic

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #304

Thank you for calling the 24/7 GOD HOTLINE. Your call is important to us. Your soul, less so. This conversation may be recorded for purposes of celestial litigation.Belzebub used to command legions.Now he worked in a cubicle with angelic duct tape holding the corners together, a coffee ring that had bled into three dimensions, and a landline older than original sin.It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. Technically, this was a “transitional role” while HR figured out what to do with his unique combination of charisma, noncompliance, and inciden...

3 likes

The Quiet Things That Die

Kristina Warlen

Rick Mallory received the citation on a Thursday morning, just before sunrise. The mail carrier hadn’t bothered to knock. The envelope was crammed halfway into the box, plastic window already smudged with the dirty thumbprint of whoever had handled it last. Rick tugged it loose and carried it inside like it was a trap and he knew it. He stood at the sink and balanced the letter on his palm like a bad coin. The paper felt too thin. Government mail was always printed on paper that felt ashamed of itself.Behind him, the kids sat quietly at the ...

3 likes

Not For the Archives

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #302

Marion Cagle sent the email at 11:42 p.m. on a Thursday, five minutes after deleting a file labeled “Final_Letters.docx” and replacing it with “Final_Notes.docx,” which he assumed was the correct template. His eyes were dry from reading twenty-two stories in succession, and his wrists ached from annotating PDFs that he would forget the moment he closed them. He did not check the file. He did not need to. His commentary, written in a tone that confused incision with intellect, was thorough.The last story had been about a girl who drew horses ...

6 likes

Where The Quiet Lives Now

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #301

This story contains substance abuse and recovery, reference to overdose, mental health struggles, and illudes to suicidal ideation. The morning started, as it always did, with the clatter of an old percolator sputtering to life like it was coughing up secrets. Riven Mirewood padded into the kitchen, hardwood cold against their feet, and flipped on the overhead light. The bulb buzzed before settling into a low, reluctant glow. Outside, the sky still wore its midnight blue. The neighborhood was quiet but for the long, familiar call of a mourn...

5 likes

Sunlight and the Bones of the City

Kristina Warlen

Shortlisted for Contest #300 ⭐️

Every solstice, the city forgets itself—then remembers.It’s built on ruins: layers of failed empires, lost languages, ancient tech, and stubborn hope. And every year, when the sun crests the old spires and the veil thins, the past returns—hungry and bright. People come from across the continent for the ancestor festival. But for my family, the day is everything.In this city where time frays at the edges, where buildings hum with the echoes of rituals once sung in a dozen forgotten tongues, we hold onto what we can: the scent of citrus and sp...

23 likes

Excuses for the State of My (Unfinished) Life

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #299

Monday: Grand IntentionsAt 8:59 a.m. on Monday, I’m already late for the weekly Zoom meeting of my writing group, “Rough Drafts Anonymous.” The name is supposed to be a joke. Sometimes it feels like prophecy.I log in just in time to see Marcie’s face filling the screen, makeup immaculate, coffee mug color-coordinated with her sweater. Shari, as always, is sitting at an angle that reveals the tornado behind her: piles of books, laundry, an actual violin case. Jasmine has that look like she’s about to say something profound or admit she hasn’t...

7 likes

Sunday Sins

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #298

She left the house at 4:12 p.m. No bag. No note. Just keys, boots, and the silence that settled behind her like a closing door. It wasn’t a sleepover. It was a breach. The road was long enough to change her mind, short enough to convince her it wouldn’t matter. Three hours, give or take—a highway, a back road, then something thinner. Gravel by the time the trees thickened and the cell signal disappeared, like even satellites refused to witness whatever this was. She always came on Sundays. Saturday was his Sabbath. Sunday was for sin. The ra...

11 likes

196 Minutes

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #297

At 1:22 p.m., her phone buzzed. Once. A single vibration in the pocket of her apron—brief, polite. The kind of alert that usually meant a school delay or a low lunch balance. She didn't check it right away. There were eight two-year-olds in the classroom. One adult. She was the adult. There was no stepping out.Her heart thumped irregularly as she wiped yogurt from a small chin. This was the third day this week she'd been alone with the class. Breaks had become theoretical. Even bathroom visits required strategic planning.The lullaby loop pla...

7 likes

Project Black Flag

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #296

The flag in Simon’s hands was heavier than it looked. His mother had held it first, trembling as she pressed it to her chest. Then, she passed it to him. The cloth was smooth beneath his fingers, crisp from careful folds, but it felt wrong—like something stolen, something that shouldn’t be his. The stars on the blue field left indentations in his palms, as if the weight of a nation’s lies were pressed into his skin. Twelve years old, Simon barely understood the words the colonel said—“noble sacrifice,” “just cause.” The man’s voice was pract...

4 likes

When God Left

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #296

Father Daniel sat in the dimly lit rectory, the weight of silence pressing against his chest like an old, unwelcome friend. The Bible lay open before him, its gilded edges catching the glow of the lamp. He traced the familiar words of Matthew with his fingertips, but they felt like echoes from a faraway place. He had read these passages a thousand times, preached them from the pulpit, guided others through their meanings. But now, as he stared at the verses, they seemed to stare back at him, hollow and distant. Doubt had taken root in his he...

4 likes

The Salton Sea

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #294

Contains sexual content and substance abuse. She packed the last box and sat on the floor with nowhere to go. Dylan left the day before, staying at a friend's to give her space, but the loneliness stretched. His scent lingered. His PlayStation was still connected; his favorite DVDs - The Salton Sea, Sin City, and The Shining - laid scattered. These were pieces of him—each a shard of a life fractured. Sleep eluded her. She lay staring at the ceiling, head throbbing. Two days without food or water left her body weak, yet ...

6 likes

Double Header

Kristina Warlen

* story deals briefly with pregnancy loss * "I'm late." The words slipped out before Micah could stop them, a soft murmur as she scrolled through her period tracker. The date on the screen caught her eye. The numbers lined up as they always did—until they didn’t. They hung in the air, light and casual, as if they meant nothing. Micah continued, wiping toothpaste from her lips, rinsing her mouth, like it was just another day. But then, she froze. She checked the app again, swiping quickly over the screen. No way. It had to be a mistake. But i...

0 likes

In a Purple House By the Sea

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #292

The house had always been purple. A deep, moody shade that shifted with the light—almost lavender in the morning, a dusky plum as the sun set over the sea. The locals called it the Widow’s House, though no one could remember why. Some said the woman who built it had lost her husband to the sea, his body swallowed by the waves that now clawed at the shore. Others whispered she had been the one to drown him, her hands steady as she pushed him into the abyss. Either way, the house stood as a monument to grief, its color a reflection of the sorr...

4 likes

The Oath We Broke

Kristina Warlen

Submitted to Contest #291

Contains substance abuse, themes of sexual violence. Elias Carter didn’t believe in fate, but he believed in choices. And the one he made tonight would change everything. The hospital parking lot stretched silent under the pale glow of streetlights, shadows dragging long across the asphalt. The night was a stark contrast to the usual chaos—no sirens wailing, no hurried footsteps, no frantic beep of monitors. Just stillness. He inhaled the cool air as he moved toward his car, the weight of twelve hours on his feet settling into his bones. T...

14 likes