Lucy Benson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024

Stories (4)

4 Stories

50 karma pts

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“Babies Cry” by Lucy Benson

Submitted to Contest #280

Content Warning: This story explores themes of mental health difficulties that may be triggering to some readers. Names have been changed for safety and privacy reasons “You are such a bad mum.”“No, I’m not.”“Yes, you are. Listen to him.”“He’s crying. Babies do that.”“They do that when they have needs that are not being met. You are not meeting his needs.”“I’m literally changing his nappy right now.”“But that’s not what he wants.”“I know. But he has pooped, and he needs his nappy changed.”“So you know it will upset him, but you are doing it ...

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“What she left behind” by Lucy Benson

Submitted to Contest #277

I used to believe that the line between good and evil was solid. I had it straight and clear in my mind: I was good, and she was evil. Right now, I am not so sure.That the sorceress is evil is still beyond doubt in my eyes, and indeed in the eyes of the kingdom. Is there another way to describe someone who would curse something so beautiful, so pure? And yet, I have bestowed my own curse upon my daughter. For surely to grow up away from one’s mother is a curse. And to tear a babe from her mother’s arms… well, perhaps I have cursed more ...

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“UVampire ” by Lucy Benson

Submitted to Contest #274

“Jackson!” Ray’s voice penetrated the haze that had been clouding my brain.  It was a slow day at Ray’s Rays, the sunbed salon where I was sleeping my gap year away, trying to save up enough money for college. Most people spend their gap year abroad, travelling to exotic places. I was spending my gap year making people look like they had been abroad, travelling to exotic places. Go figure. “Jackson!” Ray called again. “You alright?” I called back. “We’ve got a situation,” Ray said, coming out of his office. “Lindsay is sick, and I have ...

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“A Currency of Time” by Lucy Benson

***Warning: this story contains themes of child killing that may upset the reader*** Don’t tell anyone. My mother’s voice rang the mantra once more through my mind as I sat in the interrogation room and tried to look like I was guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was alone in the room, left by the interrogator to stew in my own head, but I knew they were watching. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. I wasn’t sure how long I had been in the small, windowless room. I was certa...

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