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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2019
Submitted to Contest #133
***Content warning: story includes child death.***22nd April 2051My daughter, Tereva,Journeys begin with the first fathom. But in which direction? And how fast?When I was a child, those questions were answered for me by adults battling to conquer a land reclaimed by water.We lived on an island until I was five. Then came the Great Flood of ’26. Just about everything we owned was lost. Most of it we soon forgot, but I mourned our cat Fermín for a long while. I still think of him sometimes, with his black nose and scratchy meow. We no longer h...
Submitted to Contest #130
You asked me what happened, and you are impatient for my answer. There is an investigation to complete. Time is short, I understand.Where can I start but from the beginning? It was the smoke orphan that first drew my eye. Drifting above Rose’s scarlet hair, it seemed to glisten as it dissolved into the foggy atmosphere of the bar. It was like witchcraft. She was the sorceress.Something in me shattered eternally in that dim, sweaty bar. Blind date or not, I knew she was the only one who could hold my fragments together.I should explain. Orpha...
Submitted to Contest #32
The smell of geraniums makes me think of sex and Fred. Perhaps it’s the metallic tang, like electricity, or adrenaline on my tongue. Did I always feel like that, or is it just since we started meeting in the vibrant perennial section at the Botanical Gardens? The atmosphere sizzles with the aroma, giving me an indecent thrill. Ironic, really, with a name like Lily, that I should be so taken with geraniums.I love this part of the Gardens, by the cafe, on my regular bench. It’s indoors, with enormous windows that stretch to a dome overhead, an...
Submitted to Contest #22
31st December 2019Dear BenMy love. Another New Year’s Eve. Another twelve months without you.I should be accustomed by now, but the void you left behind is hollow as ever. Always this season, it grows into a black hole, a swirling horizon extinguishing all light inside, and every scrap of joy.Can you believe, I still fantasize you’ll return? I know it’s impossible. Yet on a summer evening, I swear your scent of musk and spice drifts on the breeze. Like you’ve visited, staying out of sight, squeezed behind the backyard honeysuckle. Our flower...
Submitted to Contest #17
Henry’s graduation photo still hangs in the living room. That was two years ago—back when we didn’t know what was coming. His sits on the left, mine on the right of Mom and Dad’s brick fireplace.In the pictures, we’re all stiff shirts and smiles, dark hair peeping from mortarboards.“Carrie.” Mom’s voice is as soft as ever, but underneath its blanket is the Henry-shaped hole that’s always there now.“Mom.”We hug, her lilac-sweatered arms squeezing me with illogical strength. Mom is angular and slight like Henry. I take after Dad: robust and ru...
Submitted to Contest #13
Hattie Jacques, they’d called her at school. After a fat, olden days actress. “Can you touch your toes, Hattie?” The skinny, mean girls would say.“Can you see your toes?” Jenna was the skinniest and meanest of the gang. Her sharp fingers were made for slapping faces.Hattie wasn’t that fat. Still, her thighs wobbled too much as she ambled towards the campus bus stop through the autumn drizzle.She’d planned to leave it all behind when she moved to Fulchester College. Granted, it was a twenty-mile commute on two stinky buses, but it was a ...
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