Mary Swearingen

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020

Stories (6)

6 Stories

90 karma pts

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“Mystery In Black” by Mary Swearingen

Submitted to Contest #51

"I don't know why people are so keen to put the details of their private life in public; they forget that invisibility is a superpower." Banksy In the classroom, she was all-powerful. No one dared question her authority. No one dared sassed her under their breath or to her face. No one dared not follow her commands. When she said jump, we jumped. When she said "sit," we instantly plopped down. When she said "quiet," we immediately hushed. When she told us to read, we opened a book and started reading. Any command given was instantly obeyed...

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“Ginny's Tree” by Mary Swearingen

Submitted to Contest #50

One could not imagine the old walnut tree without the treehouse. They had become inseparable, like Laurel and Hardy, Astaire and Rogers - time had morphed the two into one. The tree's sturdy branches hugged the little wooden enclosure as tightly and securely as a protective parent embracing a child in danger. When summer was in full bloom, the treehouse was barely visible, and so were its occupants. Making it a wonderful place to hide from a searching parent or an annoying sibling. Such was not the case during winter. During those months, th...

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“THE HOSPITAL” by Mary Swearingen

Submitted to Contest #49

"Waiting was often a resented gift, imparted to those who accepted it grudgingly in the hopes that something better would come along when the gift was tossed aside, boxed away for the next recipient."......Gina Marinello-Sweeney, The Rose and the Sword The room was labeled "Nurses Only." A mid-size room located on the first floor of the biggest and busiest hospital in the city. It was the nurse's haven. It was a place to wait until one’s shift started, a place to rest aching feet, coffee and lunch breaks, hurried phone calls, a quick smoke...

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“THE ATTIC” by Mary Swearingen

Submitted to Contest #47

As you climb the stairs to the old attic, your nostrils fill with a familiar old smell—that sweet, stuffy smell of the integration of people's lives and the passage of time. Blended aromas of all the families who lived in the old house, each leaving their mark, their unique scent, be it from the food they cooked or the soap they used. And somehow attics give refuge to the past better than any other section of a house. You look at the boxes stacked against the attic walls. Boxes containing hundreds, perhaps thousands, of memories - ph...

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“LOST YEARS” by Mary Swearingen

Submitted to Contest #43

The father looked down on the new arrival, not sure really what to think or feel other than feeling a deep sense of disillusionment. He wanted a boy, a son in his image, but unfortunately, this one was wrapped in pink. Another one of his dreams out the window. Par for the course, he thought. None of his dreams ever came true, so why should this one? His whole life had been one slap down after another, disappointment after disappointment. It was as if his sole purpose here on earth was to be life's punching bag, and he just received another p...

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“Lady Girl” by Mary Swearingen

Submitted to Contest #41

LADY GIRLIt was 1965 when she came into our lives on a bone-chilling cold and windy Missouri winter morning, and ten years later, she would leave us on a day just as cold and windy. But between the beginning and the end were years of pure joy, laughter, friendship, and companionship. Years filled with unforgettable memories that my brother, sister, and I, along with my parents, experienced with a little dog named Lady Girl. She was born in one of those old, somewhat dilapidated, yet functional midwestern barns. Surrounded by the smell o...

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Author bio

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