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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2020
Shortlisted for Contest #150 ⭐️
Dear Mr. Colmes, In response to your request, please find attached the internal records maintained by the Artificial Intelligence System Halbert-Armstrong Copyright (A.I.S.H.A.) from 21 March 2073 to 4 April 2074. As noted in the deposition provided by Drs. Ajith, Ho, and Armstrong, most of these records were corrupted in the incident that occurred on 4 April 2074, leaving only thirteen decipherable entries. V/R Lee Durham 21 March 2073 16:21:05 <Insert> Per command 4X2CC-F1C, Artificial Intelligence System Halbert-Armstrong...
Submitted to Contest #140
The hero will win. The villain will lose. Someone you love will die. That’s the story. That’s always the story. Don’t forget. Danny remembers every detail of that day. She can’t forget and, believe me, she’s tried. She remembers the electric spark of his touch. She remembers his smell—sandalwood and citrus. She remembers the way he said her name, as if he could taste it. Dark chocolate. Dry red wine. A last kiss. Delightful. Full of delight. It’s been a long twenty years, but Danny hasn’t forgotten. * They met just before sunset, at a hole...
Submitted to Contest #84
Four people – a man, a woman, two boys – sit down to share a meal. They do not look at each other. They have not forgotten how, although they often forget why. If they were to look, they would see something like this. The woman is flush-faced and shaking. Glassy-eyed, she eyes her glass of rapidly diminishing wine, prodding lazily at her food. She lost her appetite sometime around month five, along with her sobriety, and hasn’t bothered looking for either since. Her smile is artificial and unconvincing, poorly-preserved, like something she...
Submitted to Contest #42
“Would you like a receipt?”The female pixie hovering a few inches above my counter nearly jumped out of her skin. “Wh—what?” she stammered, as if the question were some mysteriously ticking package I had just thrust into her arms.“A receipt,” I repeated, pretending to examine one of the threadbare flying carpets Mistletoe Root had dumped in front of me. “Ah. Um. No. No, I don’t think so. No.” Mistletoe’s voice trailed off, as she risked another terrified glance around the room. Her blue skin sparkled with sweat, and her gossamer wings trembl...
Submitted to Contest #37
Don’t go into the woods, my mother used to say. The wolves will find you and gobble you up. There were still a handful of packs in those days—pitiful collections of scrawny runts with bleary eyes and loose teeth. Sometimes, a chicken or small dog would go missing, but I doubt all the wolves in the county could have finished off a plump boy with a good throwing arm and fast legs. The old packs—the man-killers—had all died out years ago. Don’t go into the woods, my mother used to say. A werewolf will find you and gobble you up. Then she would ...
Winner of Contest #35 🏆
The mother had finished the dress just in time. It was green as envy and light as a dream, embroidered with white and pink songbirds wheeling in flight. Phe admired herself in the mirror, twisting her wheat-colored curls into a knot near the base of her skull. Marvelous, she thought, tilting her golden head to catch the evening light. I am marvelous. Her date was waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs, watching the mother searching desperately for her phone. Looking up, he grinned and bowed deeply. They’d dressed him in a light grey s...
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