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Marcia H.

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (141)

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162 Followers

53 Following

141 Stories

2027 karma pts

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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....

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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 ...

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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...

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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...

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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 ...

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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...

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