Mo Colby

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021

Stories (5)

5 Stories

102 karma pts

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“The Other Woman” by Mo Colby

Submitted to Contest #148

When I move in they show me the other apartment too. It is right above mine and entirely identical. I don´t know what makes me choose the one below. Perhaps it is the striped wallpaper. It does not matter which apartment I choose at the time, I just need an apartment. As you do, when you´ve just graduated from art school and they refuse to let you hover around campus for another semester, the way the fragile tee...

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“Flycatcher” by Mo Colby

Submitted to Contest #144

I breathe, I take aim. He freezes in my viewfinder, silver shadow fur and bleach, caught in the act of turning away with his face still twisted towards me. An eye-shadow bruise leaks down from his eye. This in the breath before hell patches through: the bass thrums, a dark object flies through the frame in slow motion. He cannot see it, doesn´t know until the bottle makes contact with the mic stand and spli...

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“In Marble Halls” by Mo Colby

Submitted to Contest #113

Is this my dream or yours?I feel... I feel as if I know you. Like I´ve seen you before. Somewhere.Is this my dream?I have no particular emotional link to the blue bicycle, the silver streamers at the grips. This is from your childhood memory, not mine. The temples are on me, I´m sorry if they confuse you... I find my way quite easily. Give me your hand. I´ll guide you through the pillars. I feel as though I´ve seen you. Not met you, but as if your face was a picture, spliced into the film of my life....

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“Wasteland Flower” by Mo Colby

Submitted to Contest #110

TW: references to violence and elder neglectI see Luck twice before I let him inside my car. Before I stick my head out of the window and say “Where are you heading?” and he slides into the passenger seat as if it was made for him. He is all sunburn and dangling silver necklaces and he says “Anywhere.”The sun was sticky, trickling down my skull like someone had cracked an egg over my head. A physical weight that constantly made me brush over my hair to check if something was caught in it.There we...

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“Indian Summer on Ontario Beach” by Mo Colby

Submitted to Contest #108

You remember this. It is autumn and the days shorten. All things are red, gold, purple-gray. All things are cooling down. Wet winds and leaves blowing flat against your chest. You remember this as if from a dream. You took the child to the fair. The child is your daughter. No. Your sibling. No. The child is of no relation to you. The fair was a screeching place. Wind whistling through the Ferris whee...

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Author bio

21- year-old German-American creative. I haven´t been writing long but I have been thinking about writing my whole life... so it was about time.