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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2019
It’s no bestseller, but enough people bought the book for thirteen east-coast bookstores to host me for an evening. It shouldn’t have been a three-month affair, but independent book publishers and piss-poor planning are synonyms. My agent told them yes of course I’d be okay spending five empty days in a Holiday Inn in West Virginia between readings. Whatever, I’m lucky to get a book tour at all. It was thirty people in the audience on a good day, about thirteen most of the time. By ...
“I was born at the wrong time too. A week early. If I’d stayed put, I’d be a capricorn. I’m sure I messed up Mama’s plans. I always did. She was just twenty-five then, just starting to get her career off the ground and move to a totally different country. Terrible time to have a baby. And then when I was born, I’m sure I was a terrible bother. Babies are rude, you know. They cry in the middle of the night, poop themselves at parties, get hungry on a walk to the park, it’s all on their own timetable. I think Mama was always glad t...
There were wild horses on Mars now, and everyone knew it was Sampson Fields’ fault. The classic tale, an unstable genius, a complete mental breakdown, a lashing out, a break-in at the laboratory where the foals were kept in sterile stables hooked to tubes and monitors. He set all of them free the day after he turned in his resignation letter. Rumor was he’d written it in his own blood on a crumpled lab report. But just a rumor. It was in fact typed in twelve-point Times New Roman and formatted very correctly. No one...
“Are you sure?”“Yes! I took two different tests from two different brands and they all said the same thing!” Mary says into her iPhone, biting her lip to trap a sob. It’s not fair to cry during a phone call - the other person is forced to silently bear your auditory snot, unable to give much real comfort. Mary sits on the toilet, knees to chest, back curved, a disheartened queen upon her porcelain throne. “Who’s the dad?” Lily asks from the other side. “Coope...
I hadn’t seen my ex-fiancee in twelve years and then I moved into his neighborhood. An accident, of course, I didn’t know he’d be there in a cute little gnome house with a pointed roof and brick walls and a turquoise door and a garden of pansies tended by a loving pregnant wife. I wouldn’t have ever found out either, I’m not big on mingling with neighbors, but my new fiancee is and he insisted we go to the big barbeque they were advertising with hand-drawn signs and smiley-face balloons. He wanted to settle in quickly, g...
There’s never been a cigarette so impotent as the Yellow American Spirit, but I was twenty-five then, and I didn’t know any better. My roommate asked me to buy cigs at the gas station and the man behind the counter stared at me as if he didn’t believe that I was, in fact, twenty-five and not some eighteen-year-old with a fake I.D., so I panicked and pointed at the prettiest-looking package, not realizing that yellow is code for “mellow” which is code for “flavorless.” “It&rsquo...
I was clinging on, I was okay, until I put my AirPods through the washing machine. One-hundred and eighty dollars in broken plastic because I couldn’t be bothered to check the pockets of my only pair of jeans. Of course I can play my music out loud, but you know it’s not the same; earbuds are like a hug, whereas out-loud music is a wave hello from far away. I need sounds vibrating in my ear canals at all times, words and synthesizers pouring constantly into my brain. Otherwise my mind begins to digest itself, the way stomachs do when left...
Dear Diary,I think I’m dead. Nothing scares me, nothing delights me, nothing makes me scream or laugh or clap or smile. A swarm of deadly hornets could descend down and cover me with their poisonous kisses and I’d just give each and every one a blank-eyed look. Well, no, I lie - I do enjoy eating. My pudgy belly betrays me. She is full of everything all the time, salami and banana nut...
I’m sorry. I was never one to jump on impulse. I lag, my brain moves slower than my body, emotions paralyze me, words get caught somewhere between the larynx and the uvula. Never action, only thoughts, and if action, then stale action, no emotion behind it, for the emotion has already burnt up, fizzled out, evaporated, dripped from my pores, and only its hollow momentum is left b...
masha! 22! she/her! my instagram is @dogenthusiast if you want to connect more!
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