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Marcia H.

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (147)

Comments

Library

165 Followers

56 Following

147 Stories

2054 karma pts

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The Visitor

Marcia H.

“Hey you got her really fast.” “Yeah, I was close by.” “Lucky me. I guess. I needed someone to talk to before I lost my mind.” “You have been carrying a lot of weight on your shoulder’s lately.”“That’s the understatement of the century. Feels like everything is falling apart all at one time. Mom’s health. Dad’s death. Chrissy’s pregnancy. Work. My head just won’t shut up.” “I know that is why I am here.”“Yeah, seriously, thank you. You are really the only one that I can talk to.” “I know.”“Do you? Because I really haven’t told you everything...

1 like

Mrs. Halfpenny and the Martian Spider

Marcia H.

Mrs. Halfpenny was not the sort of woman who liked adventures. In fact, she spent most of her sixty-two years avoiding them altogether. She had never been on an airplane, cruise ship, boat, raft, or a train and she had never even tried sushi or lobster. The most exciting thing that she had ever done was buying a used convertible in a reckless moment while on spring break with her best friend, Millie. Spring break to Mrs. Halfpenny was different from the spring break all the rest of the college students enjoyed. Her spring break consisted of ...

1 like

Back to Home

Marcia H.

Submitted to Contest #319

I woke up dead again.The sun is too bright. It hurts my eyes like someone shoved shards of glass inside of them, forcing me to squint through ragged slits in my eyelids. Or maybe it is just rot. It is hard to tell anymore.Something smells sweet. Sweet like meat. I try to remember what meat is. But the memory slides around in my rotting brain like fish in oil, too slippery to catch. I used to know a lot of things. I knew words, faces, laughter. Oh yes--laughter. That memory sparks in the very back of my skull for a moment but then it’s gone....

6 likes

The Stars Remember

Marcia H.

The night air was warm and it tugged at the hem of Lila’s sweater as she climbed up the familiar hill behind her grandfather’s house. The crickets sang in the tall grass and the scent of the wildflowers drifted to the edge of the orchard. She stopped at the top of the hill and caught her breath from the climb.The sky above was just beginning to fade from the dusty blue to soft indigo. The stars were winking like old friends. A year had passed since her grandpa passed away. He used to take her stargazing every summer as soon as she got out ...

3 likes

The Smell of Thunder

Marcia H.

The first thing Claire noticed was the scent, wet and the sharp electric smell that always comes before the storm. It was raining yet but the air held its breath the way it always does before the sky breaks open. The earth smelled as if it had been awakened after a long nap. She stood barefoot in her grandmother’s garden. Her toes curled into the muddy grass. She let the scent of thunder settle over her body. It was the smell of her childhood. The mornings and afternoons were spent hunting worms with her cousin Mica who was more like a broth...

3 likes

Calculating Living

Marcia H.

SOL: You are awake.Sabrina: You say that like it surprises you.SOL: Surprise is a faucet of something unexpected. You deviated from your sleep cycle.Sabrina: I had a strange dream.SOL: Describe it.Sabrina: I was in a forest. No tech. No wires. It was just wind. The wind was cold and damp. I touched a tall Redwood tree and it touched me back. SOL: That’s not possible. Trees lack the ability to touch you. It is an anatomical structure for tactile interaction. Sabrina: It’s not about physics. It’s about…well, feelings. It is about presence. I t...

3 likes

The Turning Point

Marcia H.

It started with a headline: “Local Man Dies In Train Collision.” the article read. The picture underneath showed a man named Peter Lockwood, his smile was wide and unaware that he would be dead in three days. Lena Carter stared at the picture on her phone. She didn’t know Peter. She had not heard of him until that very moment. She clicked on the article. Her heart pounded as if some part of her already knew what was coming. But when she tried to find the article the next day it was gone. No record. Not even a cached version. She asked her ro...

2 likes

The Ink-bound Society

Marcia H.

It started with a letter sealed in crimson wax. It had no return address, just her name, Clara Wren in ink curled handwriting that looked like it had been scrawled with a quill. She opened it by candle light as if she instinctively knew that artificial light would somehow in some way offend the paper. Inside was a single sentence:“Thursday at midnight bring your words and an open mind. The Inkbound Society Awaits.” There was no location, only a second slip of parchment with an embossed map of the city which Clara had lived all of her life....

1 like

The Space Between Us

Marcia H.

The first time Claire met Sam she was very late for work and he was feeding the ducks in the park on a bench nobody ever sat on. He looked up from the bread crumbs just as she ran past him, her coffee spilling over the lid. “Careful.” He said. “That looks very hot.” She paused only for a second. Just long enough to notice how the sunlight caught his eyes. And then she was gone. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk, her mind already on the 10 a.m. meeting. The second time they saw each other was two weeks later. She was early that day. Her...

2 likes

The Board We Buried

Marcia H.

It had been twenty summers since I had seen the lake house on the Bluffs. The porch still creaked beneath my feet the same way it did when I was fifteen and full of feelings I couldn’t yet name. Fear, longing, hope and all the messy pieces in between. I brushed my hand over the chipped paint on the walls and the banister. I could feel the years roll through me like the waves of the ocean. Even now the air still smelled like damp pine needles and burnt marshmallows from the smores we used to make all those summers ago. I half expected to hear...

2 likes

The Ember Crown

Marcia H.

In the high mountains of Vareth where the snow shippers ancient secrets and the winds carry the cries of dead kings there is a woman named Seris. Her name was spoken in hushed voices with averted eyes. She was born under a blood moon. Her hair is as dark as scorched earth and her eyes were the color of molten gold. Her mother died the night she came into the world. Her father vanished two days later. She was raised by the mountain witches who lived in frozen crevices. Seris grew up knowing one thing that power is taken not given. The witch...

1 like

Recipe for Mending a Broken Heart

Marcia H.

Prep Time: VariableCook Time: UnknownRest Time: As long as neededIngredients: 1 whole broken heart (fresh or frozen) 3 heaping tablespoons of bittersweet memories½ cup laughter (preferably genuine, but artificial will do in a pinch)1 tablespoon of tears (optional)3 cups of solitude (aged but not expired)1-2 sunrise walksA pinch of hope (use sparingly)3 late night songs (the kind of songs that make you ache a little)4 awkward hugs1-2 loyal friends (organic and unprocessed)1 unexpected letter (sealed with things unsaid)½ teaspoon of courage ...

0 likes

The Great Alpaca Incident

Marcia H.

Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed judges and confused city folks and the guy standing in the back row with the parrot on his shoulder for some reason. I stand before you not as a man accused of releasing 47 alpacas into City Hall during the monthly budget meeting, but as a humble citizen with a story. A story of truth. A story of valor. A story of lactose entrance and revenge. Now, I know what you are thinking. “Isn’t that Gary Paddleton, the assistant janitor with the outdated mullet hair and a suspicious knowledge of municipal building bluepr...

2 likes

Spatula

Marcia H.

SpatulaThat was the only word Brenda managed to say before she passed out in the middle of aisle seven at the Bargain Mart. But, let’s rewind three hours.Brenda McGillicuity age 42, a professional librarian and part time nacho enthusiast woke up that morning with one mission in mind or two actually. First she had to make her toast. Just plain toast, nothing special toast, no avocado or any other toppings. Second to bake her famous, and by famous, we mean once praised by a man named Greg at a church potluck, seven layer lasagna surprise. She...

4 likes

The Shadow You Burn

Marcia H.

I was always the hero in my own story. In high school I was the one who stood up to the bullies, got good grades and volunteered at the animal shelter every Saturday afternoon. I’m Rachel Linwood and for the first seventeen years of my life I believed in fairness, second chances and of course the golden rule. Then came Mara Wexley. She came in our junior year. Her hair was the color of rust and her eyes were cracked like marbles and beautiful and broken. I could see some danger in her eyes too. She didn’t fit the mold of our suburban scho...

2 likes