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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020
Submitted to Contest #97
It’s midnight, but I have no intention of sleeping.I can hardly even look at my old bed, sitting in the corner under all the music posters that I didn’t bother to take down from the wall before I left. Quilt pressed and straight, pillows perfectly in place. Like an artifact. Something you might see in a museum. I haven’t touched it since I got here. I feel better here, by the window, sitting in my dad’s desk chair because he’s been using my room as an office. No—not my room. My room is in a studio apartment across the country, fill...
Submitted to Contest #76
“Jason!”“Hey, Scarlet.”“My god, where’ve you been? Why haven’t you called?”“Nice to see you, too. And why’re you smiling like that?”“Because I’m glad you’re here, idiot. Come inside.”“Nice place.”“Thanks. I bought it two years ago, with my three last paychecks from that secretary job. God, that place was terrible. I didn’t last six months.”“You’re not a secretary anymore? But—”“Of course. I never told you. I mean, I would have, if you’d called—”“Scarlet.”“Okay, okay. I work at a library now. Which you would know, if you’d called. Just puttin...
Submitted to Contest #68
Your fingers are cold as you hold my hand. We sit on the dock and watch the sun rising up through the sky, like a brilliant orange balloon, like a manifestation of God Himself floating away, leaving us transfixed down below with nothing left to believe in. The world is perfectly silent and we hold our breaths, not daring to ruin it. You stare at your toes as they brush the water, what’s left of your hair falling in front of your face. You should have shaved it by now but you haven’t. I wonder what you’re thinking about, although I know ...
Submitted to Contest #64
The wind sounded eerily like the dying screams of people Annelise used to know - a fitting ambience, considering where she was going. The world was letting her breath out in great gusts after holding it in the whole summer, making leaves in muted shades of red and gold sweep around her like spirits, whispering all the secrets of the universe in a language she couldn’t understand. She shivered even though she wasn’t cold. Walking down this path, she felt memories seeping through the cracks in the walls she’s tried to build. She’d thought...
Submitted to Contest #62
They were leaving tomorrow. That was the first thought that flitted through his head like a seagull when he awoke late that morning, because he felt like it, because he could, because there was no one there to wake him up early. He pushed the idea away. No use dwelling on things that only made his head hurt. Getting out of bed was the hardest part. His knees were too creaky, his back too achy, his mind too foggy, but he did it anyway. He liked to tell himself it was because he was strong, but the little voices, the ones deep in the...
Submitted to Contest #61
“Hey, Stick,” says Wally as we crowd around the back door of the bar. “Yeah?” I’ve gotten used to my new nickname by now, although it’s still a little weird to have my name be based off of my scrawniness. “You ever drunk anything?”“Nah,” I reply. “Never had the chance.”“You’ll like it,” he says, like he knows everything there is to know about me. “Burns a little at first, but you’ll like it.”“I bet.” The other guys in the gang - the Bronx Boys, they call themselves, but I think names like that are kinda stupid - shuffle their ...
Submitted to Contest #60
Note: I sort of rushed this because it took me a while to write it, so I had to cram a lot of writing into the last day. Lmk if it feels rushed and feel free to give me other feedback as well. Anyway, here it is: New York City, New York, USA 3 weeks since the flood 2056 She finds me on the roof, staring down at the endless indigo sea that’s invaded our city. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” I spin around to see a tiny girl - couldn’t be older than eight or nine - standing there, her copper-colored face like a penny in the silver moonlight. Alth...
Submitted to Contest #59
Harlow The building’s old. Decrepit. Unremarkable in every sense of the word. And yet - something about it makes me wistful. Nostalgic, even. But I can’t quite place what that something is. We walk through the doors and into the lobby, my backpack slung over my shoulder, suitcase trailing behind me, the broken wheel making a click-clack sound as it jostles around on its hinge. I glance over at Thomas. His face is passive, his eyes pointed down towards the carpet that might have been white once, but I know him - I can tell that he hate...
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