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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2019
Ring. Ring. The sound of the phone on the wall pierces the silence of the morning with dagger-like precision. Anastasia Malone and her husband, Connor Malone, stare at it, then at each other. Neither wants to make the move to answer. Their breakfast plates sit in front of them, half-eaten. A crinkled newspaper flashes the date in black-and-white: July 23, 1990. Anastasia makes the first move. She inches through the kitchen, watched intently by her husband. ...
Sitting across from me is the man I could potentially love - weâre on our first date.Thereâs a small, but notable, chance he will fuck me tonight and never leave my apartment again. If that happens, Iâll eventually take a shit in front of him while he brushes his teeth, heâll propose to me on the spot, and weâll rush to the courthouse in a final act of spite towards my mother. Heâll father my children, turn my hair gray, and wipe my ass when Iâm too old to do it myself. Then, Iâll die because Iâm too selfish to go last, ...
Play dead. No - not like that. What are you doing with your face? This shouldnât be hard. Just lie there for fuckâs sake. I had a dog that used to âplay dead.â Iâd point my fingers at him like a gun, say âbang,â and heâd flop over and put his paws in the air - the universal sign. It took me weeks to train him.&...
âIâm confusedâŚâ said the man with jet black hair and frown lines around his mouth. âWhatâs there to be confused about?â asked the cat with fire for eyes and stars for teeth. âAm I dead? Is thisâŚheaven? Or am I somewhereâŚelse?â âWhere do you think you are?â mused the cat, licking its paw. With each stroke of its tongue, the fur underneath changed colors, shimmering between shades of black and blue and purple and pink and all other colors the man had seen. âWhat happened to me?â He was getting...
#1. You had the worst personal hygiene and cleaning habits of anyone Iâve ever met. You rarely showered, I never once saw you brush your teeth, and you thought spraying air freshener on your shirts made them âcleanâ again. Do you remember the day I snuck into your apartment and spent four hours cleaning it top-to-bottom, doing all your laundry, and throwing away the moldy food in your fridge? I told you I was trying to do something thoughtful for a friend, but, truthfully, I only did it to make myself more comfortable ...
Iris Hardwell (Mother of Alex Hardwell) âYou know, youâre not the first person to ask that question. Everyone wants to know. Everyone wants to know if I knew my son was a killer. Well, Iâll tell you just like I told all of them - fuck you. Fuck you for ever thinking that. My son was an angel. Ask anyone. Theyâll tell you the same. Did I see this coming? What mother looks at her son and imagines he could ever be capable of something like this?â Denise Radley (Alexâs Homeroom Teach...
Itâs too late now. Youâre already here. Just get out of the car. Seriously. Remember when breaking up with people was easy? Remember when it was just information passed in a note between classes? Â
My best friend in high school - Bartholomew - told me he masturbated before making any type of decision. He said, âYou gotta release the tension before you do anything, even pick out what clothes to fucking wear.â He said weâre all wound up like springs, so we canât think logically. Back then, I thought he was just a horny teenager that liked to jack off too much. Now, I think he was onto something.Â
Not all hauntings happen in Victorian-style houses with stained-glass windows and wrap-around porches. They arenât limited to old, porcelain dolls, or leather-bound books with ancient languages scribbled inside. People can be haunted, too - hearts
I donât even like roast - I feel the need to stress that. I hate it, actually. I hate the way it smells. I hate the way the meat tastes after cooking in its own juices for hours. I hate the vegetables - the carrots get soggy and the potatoes turn into mush. I hate that it takes all day to cook a good roast. I hate the way people turn...
Your mother is in there - in the laundry room - washing your clothes right now. Sheâs sorting out the darks from the lights, and sheâs making neat piles on the floor of your dirty clothes. Letâs face it - theyâre more than dirty,
âI love you,â he says. The room is warm and humid, our sweat mixing in the air, windows slightly cracked to let in the sounds of the warm, Southern night. Weâre lying in bed. He has his arm around me in a way that has to be uncomfortable for him but oh-so-comfortable for me. The words are dripping over us â this is the first time heâs said it. This is the part where Iâm supposed to say it back, but Iâm choking. Heâs relaxed against me, slowly falling asleep in the haze. Flashback to five years ago. I was walking dow...
Dear Sandy,             WOW! Can I just start by saying I may be your biggest fan? Iâve followed your column in the newspaper for years. The piece you wrote last week, about therapeutic gardening â that was genius. I bought a small bonsai tree for my office at work, so fingers crossed. Iâve read everything youâve written. Iâve listened to you tell wives to leave their husbands, give new mothers breastfeeding advice, and help siblings reconcile their differences. Iâve ...
Trigger warning: this story depicts suicide, depression, and miscarriage. I was eleven years old when I thought about suicide for the first time. I was sitting in the backseat after leaving a birthday party, and my mom was droning on and on in the front seat about our plans for the week and the scheduled time I had with my dad that weekend, and I imagined her life without me in it â I took myself out of the picture. In my vision, her worry lines faded away. Her speckled gray hair went dark again. I imagined she and my dad wo...
Trigger warning: this story depicts rape. I read somewhere that every cell in the human body is replaced every seven years â which isnât entirely accurate. Some cells take upwards of ten to fifteen years to replace themselves. Some cells, like the ones in the eye, never replace themselves. But, itâs still a nice thought. Itâs comforting to imagine that every seven years, the human body erases like an Etch-a-Sketch, leaving behind a clean slate that hasnât been touched. I...
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