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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020
Submitted to Contest #298
The mall is busiest on Thursdays. People bustle in and out in all different directions, creating a blur of color and shopping bags as they walk through. The entrances to various stores are blocked off and tourists rub their heads in confusion as to how they are expected to push through the madness.I smile gently at the frazzled expressions, grateful for the muscle memory I possess within my feet that know the precise short cuts to journey to Dillard’s retailer. The tiled floor clicks beneath my boots, and I sigh at the sound. The sound comes...
Submitted to Contest #74
It was t-minus two hours until the Sapling Festival began. Jaxton stood in the midst of the pitch-black field behind the stadium trying to get those darn trees to dance. In front of him loomed two large, voluptuous trees off to his right and left and, in the middle, a tree that matched his seven-foot height. The three trees stayed stock-still waiting for Jaxton's instruction; he hated that about them. The trees were obedient things, always ready to pounce when given the signal. They were good at that, waiting. It was getting them to ...
Submitted to Contest #72
It wasn’t the building that scared me, necessarily. No—the building was actually quite pretty with a large crystalline fountain at the entrance surrounded by miniature dogwood trees. Glassy windows reflected the sun, up to five stories tall. Rows and rows of flowers always lined the sidewalk leading from the parking lot to the rotating door entry, changing with the seasons.At the moment, bright red poinsettias stuck out of the soil, greeting everyone with Christmas cheer. If I were anywhere else, anywhere at all, I would’ve pulled out my pho...
Submitted to Contest #64
Edith couldn’t sleep.The house was colder than usual. Frigid air blew in from the open window and tickled her nose, freezing her nostrils. She wiped at her nose and quietly rose to tighten the attic window. Edith pulled at the lock as hard as her weak arms allowed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.A noise sounded from below her. Edith’s ears pricked. She tried to remember the last time she heard clamor in the old house. A few years, maybe? Yes, that was it. She decided it had to have been at least a few years, fifteen maybe. The noise sou...
Submitted to Contest #63
The trees were a blur of orange, red, and yellow that burned bright against the dull, withering grass. London held a hand over her eyes to dim down the brightness of it all. The apple farm was packed—families and long-time friends gathering around for pictures and scrambling on top of one another to grab the ripest apples located at the top of the trees. London watched as a young girl hoisted herself onto her father’s shoulders and snatched a bright red apple dangling from a branch. She held it over her head like a trophy and the rest of the...
Submitted to Contest #61
I was ten years old when Grandma asked me to hand over my life. I had been crouched under my bed for cover, curling my pudgy knees up to my chest and squeezing my eyes shut as if that would allow me to turn invisible. My breathing stilled as I heard the floorboards creak and yelp under her weight, as if calling a warning for her arrival. I crammed three stuffed animals underneath my pineapple-themed pajama shirt and five more between my legs.I planned this hideaway weeks before that, knowing Grandma would barge into our house demanding for s...
Submitted to Contest #59
When Doctor Mitchell swung open the door to Alaska’s hospital room, her stomach plummeted. The doctor was surrounded by nurses, all of which Alaska had come to know quite well over the past six years. It wasn’t the grim expressions or tight-lipped smiles that gave her a pause; it was the lack thereof. Pitiful glances and shadowed faces were what she had become accustomed to at Walkine Hospital. Now, her doctor and nurses all wore the same countenance—bright sparkling eyes, crinkling at the corners from their outstretched smiles, arms pinned ...
Shortlisted for Contest #58 ⭐️
The arguing started early that day. As we ate our dinner—baked chicken with rosemary seasoning, homemade mashed potatoes, and fried green beans—our forks hit the plates with a sense of urgency. It was the first time in weeks that Mom had cooked a meal from scratch. Or even partially from scratch. My sister and I were getting used to the week-old McDonald's. We had been so desperately hungry that I suppose we forgot to use our manners.The silverware clanged noisily against the china, food falling out of our mouths from too much excitement, wh...
Submitted to Contest #57
Ruth Elis sat on a squeaky, worn chair located on the top floor of Ollowood Library. She had a plain sheet of paper laid out in front of her, eagerly waiting to be written on. She dipped a quill pen daintily into the ink bowl, wiping off the excess before laying it down on the page. Ruth had just turned eighty-four years young only two days ago. She did not have any family nor did she have friends to keep her company on that special day. Instead, she spent her day with the worn, aged books of Ollowood Library. She was alright with that, thou...
Submitted to Contest #56
The melody of the crickets drifted into the open windows of Dawn’s cottage house. She often left her windows open to invite the calming night air and smells of dampened grass. The aroma would drift in and sneak up her nose, calming her on the sleepless nights, especially when she was pregnant. Now, she laid on her back staring up at the ivory, textured ceiling. The crickets’ songs no longer sounded like a lullaby, but instead sounded like a warning. Her heart pounded as she stroked the bumpy scar on the bottom right corner of her belly. Th...
Submitted to Contest #48
Hero is a strange word with various definitions. To most people, and in most comics, they are portrayed as strong, tall men with flowing capes and suffocating tights. They have bulging muscles and slicked back hair in order to swoon their damsel in distress. To most little boys across the world, this is what they strive to be, no matter how unrealistic it may be. This story begins with one little boy in particular who strove to make something of himself. But in his case, all he wanted was to be a few inches taller than his fellow classmate...
Submitted to Contest #47
There’s a certain chill in the air when you step outside. Small piles of snow still litter the ground from yesterday’s blizzard. The sky is a pale, wintery blue without a cloud in sight. You scowl wishing you had grabbed your coat, and quickly shuffle to the mailbox. “Bills, bills, and more bills,” you say, gallingly. You continue rummaging through the pile but stop short when you notice a tiny postcard in the midst of the bills. It’s an intensely bright yellow, a stark contrast to the dull grey atmosphere around you, and you squint. The pos...
Submitted to Contest #44
The rusted train screeched to a stop as it reached the end of the railroad tracks, causing everyone aboard to groan in annoyance. The train made a horrible sound as the conductor pressed on the break, an ear piercing sccccrrrEEECHHHH. All the passengers covered the ears, including one curious little boy. He covered his ears with both hands, pressing hard, and looked at the people around him with probing glances. He wore a scruffy shirt with dirt scattered amongst it and matching dirt covered trousers. His mousy brown hair was hidden inside h...
Submitted to Contest #43
Isla Ellington was a young girl, only the age of ten. She had curly brown locks that flowed down her back, ending right above her tailbone. Her eyes sparkled with the lightest blue, reflecting the sky on a cloudless day. A small gap held place between her front teeth, making it an easy target for the kids at her school.“Why don’t you get your teeth fixed, Isla? Or do you pronounce it Itha.” The boys in her class would smack each other on the back, congratulating the other on the insult. Isla had no trouble speaking and she found the comment ...
Submitted to Contest #41
A purple rabbit, fur matted and coarse, sits on the shelf of a young woman. He gathers dust day by day, wondering if he will ever see life beyond his shelf. Not that he minds it all that much; he enjoys watching the sun rise and set every day, watching as his beloved owner returns from school wearing the brightest smile, and reading the books he is placed in between. Life on a shelf is much better than being dragged across the floor by Fuzzy Boots, their gray-speckled cat. Only sometimes does he wish he would see the outside world.Perhaps, o...
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