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Marcia H.

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (136)

Comments

Library

160 Followers

52 Following

136 Stories

2019 karma pts

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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 ...

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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 “Isn’t that Gary Paddleton, the assistant janitor with the outdated mullet hair and a suspicious knowledge of municipal building bluepr...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

Between the Words

Marcia H.

The first time Hana met Mr. Soto she was sitting on a bench outside of her language school in Kyoto flipping through a stack of flash cards. The summer heat was heavy in the air and her brain felt like it had been melted and fried two hours ago from the Japanese grammar skills.He walked up to her walking with a cane and a polite bow. He was a small man with thin graying hair and a very worn satchel thrown over his left shoulder. “You are a student?” He asked in English.Hana nodded. “Yes. I am here for the summer immersion language program.” ...

1 like

Tonight I am Someone Else

Marcia H.

The first mistake was the real crime. The second mistake was the e-mail. Mara meant to send it to her best friend, Olivia. Not him. She had been composing an email complaining about the new lawyer, Vincent Blackwood. His slimy smile and cold eyes made her skin crawl. But when she hit send it was not Olivia’s name that blinked back on the screen it was Vincent Blackwood. She stared at the screen in horror at the words she wrote:“Vincent gives me the creeps. Something is off about him. I don’t like his energy. He watches me like he’s already ...

1 like

The City Below

Marcia H.

Most people passed by the old fountain in the town square without a second glance. It was cracked, old and dry half swallowed up by vines. The kids would climb up on it on hot summer days and take selfies with their friends. Teenagers would spray it with their names and different random colors in the Fall. By winter it was just another grey eye-sore that nobody in town knew what to do with, so there it stood in all of it cracked and spray painted glory for all to ignore. But on the night of my seventeenth birthday I noticed something that n...

1 like

The Art of Excuses

Marcia H.

Darren Hill had a PhD in excuses. Not a literal one of course, he barely made it through community college but if there was a degree for creative excuses, skillful dodging and Olympic-level procrastination, he would graduate sum-ma cum lade. “Sorry I missed your birthday dinner.” He told his sister, Mia. “Flat tire. Had to wait for over an hour and a half for a tow truck. My spare was flat too.”He wasn’t lying. Not completely. There had been a flat tire, three weeks prior to his sister’s birthday dinner. As far as the interview for the new j...

1 like

The Last Blue Envelope

Marcia H.

The letter was sitting on the kitchen counter in a blue envelope and sealed. It was sitting there like it had been sent from another lifetime. Mara stared at it. The handwriting had not changed, the slanted cursive, the deliberately careful loops and her name out the way only he spelled it, Maribel. The kettle she had placed on the stove began to whistle and eventually sounded like a long scream trying to get her attention. But, she let it scream. Her eyes were fixed on the letter in the blue envelope on the counter. Her fingers started to ...

1 like

2:03 am The Message

Marcia H.

The first message appeared on Lily's phone at 2:03 am. No name and no number. It had just been five words. “Don’t trust the glass door.”She was half asleep when she stared at the screen on her phone. Her pulse quickened. Her house was silent. The hum of the fridge was gone and the alarm clock plugged in on the side of the bed had stopped. Power outage? She slowly sat up and adjusted her eyes to the dark. The air felt thicker and heavier than normal filled with static. Her phone buzzed again. “He’s already inside.” Panic surged through her bo...

1 like

Operation Save The World

Marcia H.

Submitted to Contest #296

Astra stumbled forward her breath coming in sharp gasps as she navigated the crumbled remains of the facility. The metallic smell of rust and decay filled the air with the iridescent smell of something burning in the distance. The emergency lights flickered, casting a shadow on the cracked wall as if the building itself was screaming a warning for her to turn around and go back. She didn’t have that luxury.Somewhere behind her the hunters were closing in. Astra pulled her jacket tighter around her trying to fight off the bitter cold. Her bo...

4 likes

Dead Man Standing

Marcia H.

The sky was heavy with dark clouds, threatening rain but withholding it, as if nature itself hesitated, uncertain whether to weep or remain dry-eyed. A small line of mourners dressed in black walked along the gravel path leading to the church. Some of them mumbled to themselves as they walked in the cold winter’s air. Among them was Margart Ellis. Her face was pale and her eyes were a shade of blood shot red and hollowed by sleepless nights. Her brother, Jonathan Ellis was dead. Or at least that is what she was told. The closed casket in ...

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The Bespectacled Killer

Marcia H.

“It was the one with the glasses.” Henry pointed an accusing finger at the television screen, leaning forward on the couch as Detective Morton, the fictional lead character in the movie, Maple Town Manor, could hear him. But of course, Detective Morton could not hear him because Detective Morton was a character on TV. And Henry? Henry was a man in his mid 40’s  who had spent the majority of two hours yelling at the TV screen like it was a two-way radio.  “Oh come on Morton,” Henry groaned as the TV detective paced the big living ro...

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The Phantom Hitchhiker

Marcia H.

Submitted to Contest #293

The road stretched endlessly in front of them, two pale yellow lines dividing the dark asphalt under the hush of the moon and the midnight air The only sounds inside the car were the hum of the tires and the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers against the glass of the window. The rain drizzled down in a misty haze, catching the glow of the headlights turning the night into a soft blur.  “You still awake?” Daniel asked, glancing at his daughter in the passenger's seat.  Nina blinked her eyes awake and lifted her head from where i...

5 likes

Deep Signs and Deep Secrets

Marcia H.

By no means of any stretch of the imagination was Alfred J. Jones a good man, good husband or good father. Now his lifeless body was lying on his living room floor in a pool of his own blood. He was only wearing bright red socks and matching boxer shorts. He was as dead as a door nail.  Detective Marion Clarke took a slow sip of her lukewarm coffee as she observed the crime scene. The room was in dismay as if a struggle had taken place. But the body was strangely peaceful. His arms were crossed over his chest but his palms were outstret...

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