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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025
Submitted to Contest #308
I hate Summer the most of all the seasons. Don’t go misunderstanding me – I’m no fan of the rest of the year. I just hate Summer the most, is all. My Paps used to say hate was for racists and rapists, but evidently he was wrong because I am neither and I have plenty of it. It wasn’t even very good alliteration, come to think of it. My Paps was a Special Ed teacher in Chalisbury, New Gin. Chalisbury was the smelliest, most pathetic little town anywhere. You couldn’t see where you were going half the time, what with the dead bugs’ wings floati...
The attic was so stereotypically dusty it shocked Violet. She always thought she'd be the kind of old lady whose attic was a secret tearoom or helicopter pad with a ceiling whose wooden planks opened up like flower blooming in triple time. If such old ladies existed and formed a category. It had not turned out that way. She was a tired old lady whose last best friend had just died and left her the onerous job of tidying her belongings. Violet sat down on the large suitcase that was to be sent to the community heritage museum. That was the fi...
Everyone in the Bugsby family – three small children, a mother, and a father – believed in Santa Claus beyond a shadow of a doubt. Yes, the father went out and bought all the presents the weekend before Christmas and hid them in the trunk of the car for the mother to find and wrap; yes, it was the mother’s altered handwriting that greeted each of her children on the cards. But even still, the parents believed in Santa Claus. This was due to the carrot cake the children left out every Christmas Eve. It always disappeared. By the time the fath...
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