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Lyra M Harper (Pen Name)

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2025

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

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A Silent Life

Lyra M Harper (Pen Name)

It was hard to tell that James Williams was drowning. Clad in a suit and bowtie, James took his seat at the piano, fingers splayed as he stretched each muscle. The black and white keys matched his life right now. He danced between his day job and his night job, with no space in his life for the things in between. No space for his loved ones, the very people he was working for. Day in, day out. Nothing changed. Hardly anything mattered except his family, and he barely had time to see them. Yet, no matter how much he saved, no matter how...

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Dream's Locket

Lyra M Harper (Pen Name)

When I was a child, my mother spoke of those lost to Dream's Locket. Many flitted by there and forgot by morning, but those who remembered, who dreamed deeply enough, risked never making it back. I never truly listened. Golden spotlight shone against the lacquered floor, judges leaning forward in their chairs. A hush fell over the circular auditorium as I bowed, the audience gripping their armrests. Taking my seat at the leather piano bench, I let the music flow freely. A high pitched, repetitive melody lulled over the auditorium...

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Refuge from the Rain

Lyra M Harper (Pen Name)

CW: Animal abandonment Wind battered against my fur. Cold bit into my skin, unceasing droplets beating down upon the metal roofs as I walked between houses. Drain pipes clattered and poured miniature waterfalls somewhere, but with the constant pounding of the rain, it was impossible to tell where they were. My mouth had been bone dry all day, despite the rivulets dripping off of my fur. I missed the cat bed at home. My former home. Before my old humans moved out for good, and the new humans decided they didn’t like cats much. I wande...

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Summertime and Supernovas

Lyra M Harper (Pen Name)

Submitted to Contest #290

CW: Mentions of divorce I walked through the arched doorway of Espresso Yourself, a high pitched bell signaling my entry. Tan walls filled the small cafe. Circular tables were scattered about with multiple outlets on the walls. Spotlights above the counter stabbed at my vision, reflecting off of the shiny tables. Yet, despite the prime charging stations, no one was here this late in the afternoon. Probably because the food tasted like chalk, and the bitter scent of coffee drenching this place smelled burnt and stale. The only thing worth tr...

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