Megan Schrader

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2021

Stories (10)

10 Stories

197 karma pts

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“No Excuses” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #104

“Are you coming tonight?” “Tonight?” “To Zee’s?” Luna’s eyes flickered away from the fluorescent screen before her for half a second to take in the blank look on her friend’s face. “For Jana’s birthday? Hello?” Xander hadn’t forgotten the party, of course. How could he? It had been at the forefront of his thoughts since the moment he woke up, taunting him each time he glimpsed the time. Part of him had hoped that the festivities might have slipped Luna’s mind, though, at least for long enough that she might not remind him of the event. Pe...

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“Final Words” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #103

In many ways, the mission to explore the Tomb of Tjay was a standard ordeal. Robert Stanson had been an archaeologist for many decades by the time he was called in to analyze the colorful images that adorned the walls of the main chamber, and he was well familiar with the scents of dank musk and moss that lingered about the dim, torch-lit rooms where he worked. The find was incredible, of course - the remains of the ancient scribe had the potential to reveal boundless information about the lives of the ancient Egyptians and their God-like Ph...

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“The Cat Lady” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #102

Billy stood on pointed toes as he watched the commotion next door with interest. He couldn’t help himself - he was as curious as any young boy, and hard-headed to boot. Though the high window frame obscured his view and forced him to crane his neck uncomfortably in order to catch a glimpse of the world outside, he wouldn’t give up his front row seat for all the world. Especially not today. Not when there was so much to be seen. Normally, of course, his mother would have scolded him for such nosiness; such behavior was unbecoming of the frie...

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“Hail Mary” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #101

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Mary bowed her head in shame, wispy locks of silver-blonde hair brushing across her pale, hollow face. Hidden within the aged confessional box, her fragile features were hidden to all; nevertheless, her cheeks grew red as she recalled her shortcomings of the previous week. She lived a simple life and strived to do right by her God day by day, but still she found herself missing a nightly prayer now and again or turning up her nose as she passed a scantily-clad woman on the street. Mary did her best, ...

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“Chicken Noodle” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #100

When my family first moved into the house on Montgomery Street, I was just seven years old and terrified of starting anew. Our old home had been comfortably worn, with creaking floorboards that told you who was climbing up the stairs and locks on the bedroom doors that never kept anyone away. My sister and I knew every nook and cranny after long summer afternoons playing hide and go seek with the neighbor’s kids. Every dent in the wall had a story. Every patch of dirt on that sparse, dying lawn was put there by rounds of tag, duck duck goose...

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“Nectarine Dreams” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #99

The fruits of summer had always been the sweetest. As he sat on the coast, snacking contentedly on plump nectarines and cherries, their sticky juices streaming down his chin and fingers, Daimon wished he could sit beneath the hot summer sun forever. Lazy days by the water, a gentle breeze on the air, the promise of sunshiny, saltwater days yet to come - he might have been young, but Daimon could not picture a life more perfect than that. And while the sun would remain high above the horizon for many more hours still, a nagging voice reminde...

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“Sanctuary” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #98

“One second, Em. The intercom’s going.” Erica strained to listen to the garbled, static stream that the conductor spewed into the aged system. This rail had been travelling in and out of NYC for more than half a century now, and given the mess of place names and stations that sounded throughout each of the cars, it was very possible that the intercom system was still that original that came with the train. Combined with the mess of conversation from strangers sitting throughout each compartment, the tones were indecipherable to her unfamili...

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“He Comes Knocking” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #97

Geraldine Rutgers had her routine. Since retiring from the local police force some years ago - the exact number was long forgotten to Geraldine now - Ms. Rutgers occupied her days in the sprawling garden outside and her nights, sat before the fireplace, her calico Topsy in her lap, watching the flames dance before she eventually took to bed once more. It was a quiet, unremarkable routine, but Geraldine was a quiet, unremarkable woman. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. The harsh rapping at her bedroom window on a late, stormy evening i...

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“In Memoriam of Olton Grove” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #96

Olton Grove was a town in decline. Since the construction of a new superhighway that bypassed the remote settlement entirely, the pothole-strewn streets saw less and less use by the year. Travellers and locals had left behind the rolling wheat fields for greener pastures, literal and figurative alike, and the dilapidated store fronts and desperate “For Lease” signs now rivalled the dwindling population of the town. And in his lonely cottage on the threshold of Olton Grove and the expansive Mid-Western wilderness beyond, John David had grown ...

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“Dear Diary” by Megan Schrader

Submitted to Contest #92

August 4, 1892 Dear diary, I have awoken this morning with the very same cold that has haunted me for nearly a week now, and I am starting to wonder if I have brought this unending ailment upon myself through my own hubris. The light cuts through the shades and stabs my eyes with a precision I long thought improbable of nature alone. How could this illness possibly prove the result of a weak constitution when my heart always beat so strong? For a while, I was convinced that my suffering could only be the result of a man’s meddling, thou...

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Author bio

An aspiring writer with a love for fiction, especially that which delves into the psychological bonds between individuals. I look forward to hearing from you!