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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020
Submitted to Contest #248
Many of you, as children, would look out of the window at night before you went to bed. You would wonder how the man in the moon was doing; wonder if he was real. Many of you who believed would then wonder why he spent all his days watching you through his telescope; you were scared. And at that I grew heavier, more sombre. For I knew this little man and he was not quite so small. He was a man like any other who, watching you all through his hole in the sky, saw you all living in a big paradise which he felt he’d lost out on. A long, long ti...
Submitted to Contest #204
DISCLAIMER: There are some historical inaccuracies between the dates of publication and performance of plays and their coordination with Shakespeare’s personal life. However, much of the story is fictional, merely being based off of loose events and real historical figures. By no means is this meant to be fact as much creative liberty has been taken. Perhaps I really am too unforgiving. We all have our faults after all. Mine so happens to be one that has tormented me in a way I never truly will shrug off. When you want something so terribl...
Submitted to Contest #114
You think it’s easy, don’t you? Being a narrator and all. All I have to do is say what I see and put it down in a way that sounds nice and keeps the reader captivated. But you are so wrong. I have lived through it all. I have seen things that I can’t talk about and usually am not allowed to share my feeling on because no one cares about me, the omniscient narrator somewhere in the clouds. Well, I can’t take it anymore! I’ve seen too much to remain a distant presence. This isn’t about me, but I watched it all which is more than you woul...
You stumble over yourself. You have the correct thoughts, all lined up in order of most to least important; the words playing on your tongue, itching to jump out. You know what you want to say, you feel your mouth open, about to voice it but that’s when it all shatters. Any dreams you could have possibly had about having a normal conversation run for the closest window to catapult themselves out of. Then like a wave of trauma, the stuttering comes. The shaking of the leg. The darting of the eyes. You had a trail of thought y...
Pitter patter. Pitter patter, sounded the rain against the windshield. The raindrops raced each other down, down to their imminent death as the wind roared and the sky swirled. * * * It is universally known, that unless you are fully innocent, you cannot ever live without guilt. The problem for most of us is just that, we are never fully innocent. Our thoughts crawl with anger and contempt, as do our souls, as they often rage with hatred. We all wish that we could be fully innocent, but then that would mean there would be no reason for...
Submitted to Contest #98
This includes extracts of Kathleen Raine’s poem “Passion”, and Walt Whitman’s “From crossing Brooklyn Ferry”. The water felt so loose and freeing as I stood there, feeling the flow of the river race past my feet. I walked further in, my white dress absorbing the water and clinging to my body. My thoughts crawled around my brain, tearing at it, and binding me in a state of exasperation. The cool water felt like fire as its volume scorched me the more I waded in. I couldn’t run now. All those words that had been thrown at me felt like acid...
Submitted to Contest #85
The Audacity Auschwitz, 1942 The walls. Black walls, dripping with a crimson liquid, were closing in on me. Then a face appeared. Who was he? I had seen him before. Dark bushy eyebrows and purely wicked, beady eyes that had dense layers of malice behind them. They spoke of death. Raw and alive death. Alive death? Then I saw it. There in, the angel of death’s hand, was a syringe with a deep green liquid swishing from side to side. “No!”, I screamed as realisation washed over me like acid. Josef Mengele. I tried to run. My feet…they wer...
Submitted to Contest #56
The dim room possessed an old book smell, which was to be expected, considering that it was a library. To be sure, it was the largest house library that that Miss Lily had ever seen, not that she had ever been in a regular one before. There must have been about a dozen bookcases that were ceiling high, all full of extraordinary volumes. There were quite a few candles that were lit, as well as a blazing fire. Laughter could be heard as it bounced off the marble floors. Lily, in her worn-out dress and half decent hair, felt misplaced. In her w...
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