Lynne Boyd

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2022

Stories (11)

11 Stories

205 karma pts

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“Dear Danielle, my lovie Diary,” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #273

Dear Danielle my lovie Diary,Danielle! Has someone been reading your pages, putting their dirty fingers on my words? It seemed like you were out of place, perhaps by only an inch or so, but nonetheless, not where I left you last night. I don’t think so anyway. Am I being paranoid?Well, here’s the question: is there really anything in here that I would mind if anyone read? Hell to the yeah! Like, everything! I hate using exclamation points but sometimes they are required.I’ve been feeling off, since the incident. The incident.  Not sure ...

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“Just Run” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #272

They were on to her. Jack was acting weird, and there was no way she would get away with it forever. She turned on her computer and opened his email. He had set it up on her computer over a year ago so she could check it when he was out of town with no service. She felt sure he had forgotten she even had access. She was shaking as she scrolled down each line, stopping at the one to Jane in HR. The subject line was empty. She moved the cursor and double-clicked to open it.‘You will never believe who has been buying prepaid
’ She didn’t h...

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“Ginger” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #271

I barely looked up from my glass when the door opened, deep in thought, writing an article about the town council in my head. There was a tall, coated figure, riding in on a breeze that circled through the darkness of the bar, and I shivered with an icy feeling of change. I took another sip of my bourbon, its warmth to chase away the unwelcome draft. Out of the corner of my eye, the figure moved on wobbly heals. Is she drunk already? She headed towards the bar, and of all the empty seats, she chose the stool two down from me. I suppose ...

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“Biscuit Hacks” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #270

My grandfather always said we came from a long line of good cooks, and good eaters. It doesn’t take a detective to surmise the latter to be true. But I’m not here to talk about overweight excellent cooks, but to share my grandmother’s secret for mouth-watering biscuits. My mother never saw the need for homemade biscuits, felt it was a better use of her time simply to whop a can on the counter's edge. Watching Big Mama make biscuits in the early morning hours was like seeing an artist create the most beautiful sculpture, and I suppose, in her...

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“Turn Back Time” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #225

“I like this mirror! Ooh it makes me look thin!” Tammy slowly turned as she looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t one for shopping, and she certainly didn’t often shop for a dress or a skirt, but they had that reunion coming up so she thought she would look outside her comfort zone. “You are thin Tammy. Mirrors don’t lie.” Sharron browsed through blouses just outside the dressing rooms. “Well get your fat ass in here and see for yourself.” Sharron’s derriere was certainly not fat but Tammy wanted to get a rise out of her. “I don’t like...

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“The Hummer” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #224

I can’t sleep. Never can sleep past five in the morning. The sun wasn’t even awake yet, but I was. I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling every year, stiff as a board. Slowly. That’s how everything has to be done now. No fast moves, even if my brain says stand up, that’s no guarantee my legs would be performing as instructed. Slowly standing up, bracing myself on the bedside table, making sure dizziness doesn’t overcome me and throws me off balance. Now for the first time I picture my brain and body as a big office, fi...

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“Dialing the Dead” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #221

Dialing The Dead I shut the door behind me, and dragged myself inside, exhausted from a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. I dropped my keys on the entry table, and walked into the kitchen. Willow was sitting at the counter, nursing what appeared to be a double whiskey, neat. She stared into her glass, zoned completely out of this world. I walked up behind, put my arms around her and she jumped, startled, having not even noticed my entrance. “Woe, it’s just me. What’s up honey?” She placed her hands on my arms, snuggled in close but didn’t ...

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“Mary's House” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #218

Mary’s House Jade got out of the car, a little stiff from the long ride, stretching and telling her old bones to loosen up. At her age you had to coax joints into movement, to make sure they knew you meant business. As she walked towards the house, she saw the screen door lying on the ground, wood and screen torn and tattered. She knocked on the door that was slightly cracked and heard nothing in return. With a creaking sound like that of a horror film, she slowly pushed on the old wooden door and revealed a long-forgotten world. Sunlight ...

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“Never Cross the Double Line” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #216

I saw her as I topped the hill, walking down the center of the road, just as if it was a path to the lake, or a walk in the park I thought to myself.  My window was down and I could hear her chanting something, but couldn’t quite make out the words. I pressed the gas and made a quick descent down the hill, threw the brakes on, shifted into park and jumped out of the car. “Never cross on the double line. Never cross on the double line.” She couldn’t have been more than three years old. She wore a pink dress and white flowers, a play...

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“What Was It” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #214

It was my first. I had just turned 19, and before this I thought I knew everything. Turns out I didn’t know a damn thing about life. Or death. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my gut, everything about me felt bruised and battered. My thoughts were racing so quickly I couldn’t speak, unable to grab a single word from my tornado brain. I was frozen, unable to move. This would be the day, the moment that propelled me into growing up, because now we were dealing with events kids should not have had to experience. His name was Chr...

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“Are You There God? It’s Me, Pearl” by Lynne Boyd

Submitted to Contest #198

I hurried behind Ms. Woodall, unrolling my skirt as I rushed to keep up with her, not wanting to get in trouble for my skirt, or legs, being too short. Could they reprimand me for being too short? At this point I felt as if anything and everything would be on trial, and I didn’t have a chance in hell of getting out of here alive. Ms. Woodall slapped my book on her hip as she stomped towards the principal’s office, over and over like she was whipping herself,  as if she could knock loose all the words and sentences they deemed irrehens...

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Author bio

Working full-time to put loaves on the table and caring for my 91-year-old father, my writing is often pushed to the side. Here I hope to receive constructive feedback to become a better writer and complete my novel.