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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021
Submitted to Contest #224
There’s this tree. A fig tree. Awful stuff, really. I learned about the tree in high school English, the hardened plastic of a decades-old chair digging into my spine as I picked through the pages of another mandatory reading. Sylvia Plath and her bell jar. Obnoxious chewing on my left. A dirty sneaker balanced precariously against the metal legs supporting my weight. Sylvia was now speaking to a generation of young kids who couldn’t give two shits. I rolled my eyes and counted down the minutes to lunch, bored. And then I fell...
⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #120
CW: mental health, disordered eating There was something about the cold. Perhaps it was the quiet, gentle whistling of wind dancing through the bitter air; the sky void of clouds and an imperceptible shade of blue (or was it simply blank after all?). The barren, bleak landscape with powder dusting weary branches. Miniature mountains standing proudly on every street corner, boxing in sidewalks and feeling oddly protective of the freezing pedestrians. A painful chill pinching the insides of your nose, demanding your attention and assertin...
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