Melissa M.

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

44 karma pts

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“Robyn and Robelius Head South” by Melissa M.

Submitted to Contest #63

Robyn shivered. The skies were gloomy and scattered with migratory birds. "Robelius, it's time. Time to head South." Robelius was her son, a red-breasted, hard-headed fellow. "Now? I've got a nice juicy one." Or that's what Robyn thought he said, but it was hard to tell when his mouth was full. "We must go, or we could die." "Aw, what do you know?" he scoffed, squinting down at the dirt. "It's built-in knowledge from our Ancient Lord." Robelius put his ear to the ground. "There's another worm right under here!" "But Robelius...they ...

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“The Green-Eyed Stranger” by Melissa M.

Submitted to Contest #37

The wind blew my hair topsy-turvy, and with the first splash of rain, I dashed into the coffee shop, papers in my hands escaping.“Let me assist,” a deep voice said. I looked up into cold green eyes half-closed beneath thick brows. A thin nose ran down the middle of a narrow face. At the bottom was a neatly-trimmed goatee.I was frozen. There was something familiar about him, but I didn’t think I had seen him before, at least not in person. An actor? He was creepy, in any case. I snatched my papers from his hand and turned to the counter to or...

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“The Criminal Inside” by Melissa M.

Submitted to Contest #27

The whistle of the train pierced Jacob's ear and steam swirled about him as he pulled himself aboard. The Madeira-Mamoré Railroad was small and inelegant, but an achievement costing many lives to build and earning it the nickname “The Devil's Railroad.” The passing scenery included the Madiera and the Mamoré rivers and several smaller tributaries. Jacob took a seat by a dark-skinned man wearing a turban.~~~ "You sat on my hand!" "I did not!" "Did too--see the mark from your button?" There was no doubting the way this trip would go. "Children...

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“Encore” by Melissa M.

My fingers stumble over the computer keys. A hundred words per minute on a good day, with an accuracy of ninety-seven percent.Today is not a good day.The Beethoven piano concerto—No. 5, 3rd movement—plays on someone's desktop. The frantic pace, the runs—I remember it all. It sparkles and skips like a prancing pony, then digs in with intensity, pauses for the horns and violins, then gentles but flows like a brook. Tears dot my eyes. That passage in the middle going down, and the forever trills—I had worked on that for long hours to make it as...

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Author bio

I've always loved the sound of words and determined to try to capture them on the page for myself, whether in poetry or prose. I'm currently working on a historical novel and a book of poetry.