Meadow Hill

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2024

Stories (18)

18 Stories

2 karma pts

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“The CafĂ© Incident” by Meadow Hill

The CafĂ© Incident"There’s this cafĂ© downtown—"The Roasted Bean"—one of those fancy places where the baristas wear suspenders like they’re going to audition for the role of “Best Dressed Prohibition-Era Bartender.” You know the type. They roast their own beans, make their own almond milk, and serve everything with a side of disdain. It’s the kind of place where people sit with laptops but never seem to actually type anything.Now, I don’t fit in at this cafĂ©. I wear jeans that don’t have a backstory, I don’t use words like “notes of citrus,” a...

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“The Necklace” by Meadow Hill

It was the kind of family heirloom that women of our family passed down as a form of tradition, like some mothers pass down recipes or the occasional perfect napkin fold. But my grandmother’s necklace wasn’t something that was casually tucked away in a drawer to be shown off at Christmas dinners, no. It was more sacred than that. It was the very essence of everything we were as women in our family—proud, resilient, and most of all, capable of wearing something a little too heavy for our necks, because, as my grandmother used to say, “It’s no...

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“Fading Echoes” by Meadow Hill

Fading EchoesMargaret sat in the cluttered attic of her childhood home, cradling an old photo album in her lap. The pages were yellowed with time, the images within blurred at the edges as if the memories themselves were beginning to dissolve. She traced her finger over the smiling faces of her parents, her younger self perched between them.Her chest tightened. She couldn’t remember the sound of her mother’s laugh anymore.Margaret had always feared obscurity, not in the grand sense of wanting fame, but in the quiet terror that her existence ...

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“The Temporal Turbulence of Fredrick G. Plimpton” by Meadow Hill

If there was ever a man less suited for time travel, it was Fredrick G. Plimpton, a mild-mannered insurance adjuster with a crippling fear of anything newer than a fax machine. And yet, through an incident that could only be described as a cosmic administrative error, Fredrick found himself catapulted 25 years into the past, specifically to the year 1998.The culprit was a vending machine. Not just any vending machine, mind you, but one of those newfangled "smart" ones installed at his office, the kind that offered kombucha alongside the more...

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“Echo's Of A Lost Summer ” by Meadow Hill

I remember the smell of sun-dried grass, crisp and golden, as though it were yesterday. The way it crunched beneath my sneakers as I ran through the field—chasing nothing and everything all at once. That summer seemed endless then, a golden blur of light and laughter. Now, it feels like an ancient artifact, buried beneath years of silence and regret.The first time I met Sam, I was sitting at the edge of Hollow Creek, my bare feet submerged in the cool water. The world had gone quiet in that lazy way it does during the late afternoon. The cic...

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“Countdown to the Millennium Apocalypse” by Meadow Hill

The year was 1999, and the air buzzed with paranoia, like the office after Brenda microwaved fish. Everyone was panicking about Y2K, that cosmic reset button destined to send the world spiraling into chaos. Planes were allegedly going to drop from the sky. ATMs would spew cash like drunk frat boys on a Vegas weekend. Toasters would rebel. Or so my mother explained to me while holding a Costco-sized bundle of powdered milk.“This is survival food,” she said, cradling the cylindrical container like it was an infant. “In case the supply chains c...

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“The Landline Lament” by Meadow Hill

Ring, ring."Hello? Johnson residence, this is Marjorie speaking.""Marjorie! It’s Ruth. Did you just sit down? Because this is a doozy.""Oh, Ruth, every time you call, it’s a doozy. Hold on, let me park myself in the recliner. All right, go on. What happened?""Marjorie, you’ll never believe it. My son—you know, Darren? The one who thinks every gadget that beeps is a gift from the Almighty—he tried to replace my landline. Said it’s obsolete. Obsolete, Marjorie! Can you imagine?""Replace it? With what?""A cell phone! He called it a smartphone, ...

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“Obsolete Technology Tale” by Meadow Hill

In the shadowy gloom of an abandoned office building, I lie dormant, my once-proud visage caked in dust and disuse. I am a fax machine. Not just any fax machine, mind you. In my heyday, I was the Canon TurboFax 5000—a name that commanded respect and admiration. Oh, how the office staff once flocked to me, clutching their documents with trembling hands, their faces lit with the hopeful glow of technology’s promise. Now? I’m the punchline to jokes told by smug, wireless printers.My story begins long before my fall from grace, in a time when "b...

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“The Street That Wasn’t There” by Meadow Hill

It was a late September afternoon when Ava Mitchell stepped off the train at Crescent Junction. The familiar autumn air, crisp with the scent of fallen leaves, greeted her like an old friend. She tightened her scarf and glanced around, expecting to see the charming, sleepy town she had grown up in.But something felt... off.Crescent Junction had always been her safe haven, a picturesque place she thought of whenever city life became overwhelming. She could see the train station was the same—the weathered benches, the iron sign with its flakin...

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“The Message in the Envelope” by Meadow Hill

Evelyn Ross lived a quiet, predictable life in the small town of Marigold, a place where the clock seemed to tick slower than anywhere else. At 38, she worked at the local library, loved her cat Jasper, and had a penchant for organizing her bookshelves in rainbow order. Her days were uneventful, but she didn’t mind. It was safe, it was steady, and that was enough—or so she thought.One chilly Tuesday morning, Evelyn arrived at her mailbox, clutching a steaming cup of coffee. Her breath misted in the cold air as she flipped through the usual s...

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“Do These Pants Make Me Look Rich?” by Meadow Hill

"Do these pants make me look rich?" Sharon asked, strutting out of the dressing room like she was BeyoncĂ© on a budget. She twirled dramatically, stopping just short of a spin because the fitting room was tiny, and her elbow nearly took out a rack of clearance scarves.I blinked. Rich? Girl, those pants make you look like you work at a high-end bowling alley.Sharon gasped, clutching her chest like I’d just insulted her mama. Excuse you! These are ‘athleisure chic.’ Serena Williams wears stuff like this all the time!I leaned back in my chair, w...

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“Caffeine Chronicles” by Meadow Hill

Julie marched into the coffee shop like a woman on a mission, even though her "mission" mostly involved caffeine and avoiding eye contact with anyone she knew. In her mind, mornings weren’t real until the first sip of coffee hit her bloodstream. She spotted Amy sitting at a corner table, already sipping a latte, and waved in that half-enthusiastic way people do when they’d rather be anywhere else but have already committed to being somewhere.Amy greeted her with a flat tone that suggested she had been waiting for ten minutes too long: You’re...

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“A Jeep of Our Dreams” by Meadow Hill

"Okay, hear me out: we need the Jeep.""Do we, though? Need it? Or do you just want it?""I don’t just want it. I want it and I need it.""Oh, those are totally different.""They are! Because I can’t need something if I don’t also want it. Wanting it is a prerequisite to needing it.""That... makes no sense. Like, at all.""Listen, I’ve done the research. It’s perfect for us.""For us? You mean for you.""For us. Us! Think about it. Off-road adventures. Camping trips. Wind in your hair, bugs in your teeth—freedom!""Bugs in my teeth? What an irresist...

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“The Face In The Mirror” by Meadow Hill

Aubrey’s nightmares always started the same way: she was alone in a dimly lit room, surrounded by mirrors. The air was thick, oppressive, and the silence roared louder than any scream. No matter how many times she had the dream, it always left her breathless, drenched in sweat, and desperate for morning to come.It wasn’t the mirrors that terrified her. It was what she saw in them.For years, she’d avoided mirrors entirely. She brushed her teeth without glancing up, avoided store windows, and used her phone’s camera sparingly, always careful t...

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“The Last Whisper” by Meadow Hill

In the stillness of a world gone silent, Clara woke to the sound of her own breath. The rhythmic inhale and exhale was the only noise in a universe that had forgotten how to hum. No birds. No engines. No voices. Just her.She sat up in the remnants of what had once been her home, now more ruin than shelter. Vines crawled through the cracked windows, weaving themselves around broken furniture. The sky outside was a washed-out gray, neither promising rain nor sunlight.Clara swung her legs over the side of her makeshift cot, her boots crunching ...

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Author bio

Meadow Hill, 44, is a budding writer based in the scenic landscapes of Colorado. With a lifelong passion for storytelling, she has recently embarked on her journey to craft short stories that explore themes of humanity, nature, and self-discovery. Meadow draws inspiration from her surroundings and the rich tapestry of her experiences, eager to share her voice with the world.