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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020
Submitted to Contest #297
Ice crystals cling to the inside of my nose, and I blow hot air onto my bare hands as I run. Perhaps run is an overstatement. My seventy-six year-old body hasn’t truly run in twenty years, and it’s screaming at me to stop doing it now. But the sounds of my pursuers echo through the night as they crash through the underbrush behind me–running is now less of a choice and more of a Pavlovian response. Even if I wanted to give up–reason with them, bribe, maybe beg–I don’t think I could stop my legs now; they are working on pure fury as a lifeti...
Submitted to Contest #258
*Trigger warning: Familial loss, mental health. Marla wakes up today much as she does every morning: sobbing and pawing at the damp sheets, screaming for someone, anyone, to save her children. Talk to them a few minutes longer after soccer practice. Invite them to ice cream a mile in the other direction. Pull them from the car before Mac can pop in that old Steely Dan CD and pull onto the highway. Stop the driver, out of his mind on coke, from plowing into the car in the first place. But of course no one is here to answer her cries, no...
Submitted to Contest #253
As Sirenuse stood in the doorway of their bedroom, holding her I’d rather be drinking wine coffee cup and watching her new husband sleep, she thought for the millionth time how much she would like to kill him. Not that he was a bad guy. He was great, as sweet as could be. This whole place was sweet as a peach, but dear god was it boring. And even after a year and a half of sincerely trying, Sirenuse still had no idea how to do boring. She had no idea how to be this Meghan character she had created, either. Mostly because Meghan, the fictitio...
Submitted to Contest #248
I can’t help but study the dirt beneath my mother’s fingernails as the blood slowly trickles out of her arm and into the smooth wooden bowl in my hands. I ate dandelion greens out of this bowl only a few hours ago. My knife–our knife–rests on the kitchen table next to her hip, its blade glistening in the full moon’s light. I realize this probably already sounds like some witchy-tale set in New England in the 1600’s, rather than an event taking place in a time of CT scans, smartphones and fake news. That’s because we don’t exist. At l...
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