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Nate Blevins

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2025

Stories (7)

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12 Followers

7 Following

7 Stories

148 karma pts

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Marked

Nate Blevins

Submitted to Contest #311

Lantern light gilded the temple courtyard as I set out the last of the offering bowls. Pilgrims’ hymns echoed off the limestone arches. It was the Eve of Ascension festival, meant to be a night of joy, but my hands shook with dread over the secret coiled inside me.At dawn, Master Radan and I cleansed an ash-curse from a young girl. The memory of her screams and the black smoke funneling into my glass flask still haunted me, especially how the ritual’s Light had tugged at the hidden darkness in my own flesh. We weren’t sure it would work. The...

3 likes

The Fold Between Pages

Nate Blevins

Submitted to Contest #310

I printed ninety-nine copies. Not because of some deep symbolism or numerology, my printer jammed on the hundredth, and I didn’t have the energy to argue with it. It was a dumb little zine. Saddle-stitched. Off-white paper that smelled like an old hymnal. Stories. All fiction, technically. Which is to say: everything I couldn’t say out loud. People asked why I didn’t publish it online. Why I dropped them off in coffee shops, bus stops, laundromats. Why I wouldn’t put my name on it. I told them I was going for “mysterious author energy,” but...

27 likes

The Day That Wouldn’t Disappear

Nate Blevins

Shortlisted for Contest #309 ⭐️

Elian woke before the chime. That wasn’t unusual. He always rose early. But this time, he knew something was wrong the moment he opened his eyes. The ticking had changed. Not louder. Not off-beat. Just... perfect. Too perfect. The little brass regulator on the mantle ticked with a precision that made his teeth itch, like time was trying too hard to behave. He sat up on the cot, rubbing sleep from his face. The air in the shop was still warm from the furnace’s overnight burn. It smelled faintly of oil, iron shavings, and old paper. Then he sa...

16 likes

The Stillness Beneath the Roots

Nate Blevins

Submitted to Contest #308

The path was not marked.Which was the first sign something had changed.Lorien had walked the woods behind the mill since she was five, long before the gout claimed her uncle, or the sun stopped rising at the right hour. But today, the moss bent the wrong way beneath her boots. The wind hesitated when she passed. The bees ignored the bloom-heavy stalks.And then, in a hollow where no hollow had ever been, she found the stairs.They spiraled down. Carved from stone too smooth for tool or time. Her hand hovered over the top step.It was the scent ...

8 likes

Rehearsal

Nate Blevins

Submitted to Contest #308

The dream started with pigeons.They were everywhere, swarming like bees, flapping around in a storm of feathers and judging stares. One landed on his head. Another pooped directly onto the small velvet ring box in his hand.Then came the child. A sticky-fingered, juice-stained toddler pointed at him and screamed, “That man’s crying!”Which was accurate.Ariana stood ten feet away in a yellow dress, the sun haloing her like some kind of proposal goddess. But she didn’t move. Her face was unreadable. Possibly pitying. Possibly confused. Possibly ...

2 likes

The Drawer Beneath the Printer

Nate Blevins

Submitted to Contest #307

It started with the drawer.Not the big one with fresh paper. Not the skinny one full of dried pens and weird paperclips. The one under the printer stand. Crooked, dust-lined, swollen from years of neglect. Paige hadn’t opened it since the pandemic. Maybe longer.She only pulled it open because she needed a blank envelope. Nothing scented. No glitter. Just plain paper. Something quiet she could slide under a door. An apology maybe. Or goodbye. Or something in between.The drawer resisted. One corner stuck. She gave it a yank. It came free with ...

9 likes

The Sable Canticle

Nate Blevins

Submitted to Contest #307

They came for her at dusk, when the Veilwood was breathing mist and the lanterns along the stairs that ran down to the water had begun to burn blue. Renna knew what the blue flame meant.She closed the ledger, wiped the ink from her fingers, and didn’t look up when the first knock came. Not a knock, really. More like the hush of a fingertip against the door. Three touches. Pause. Two more.They never said her name aloud. That, too, was part of the vow.The old man on her porch wore bark-colored robes, damp at the hem, and carried no light. He n...

13 likes

Author bio

I’m a passionate lover of epic fantasy, drawn to sweeping worlds, ancient magic, and the kind of stories that leave you breathless long after the final page. Brandon Sanderson’s work has been a huge influence on me, especially his ability to weave complex magic systems into deeply human stories. I’ve always been fascinated by the intersection of mystery and magic, when a narrative doesn’t just thrill you, but dares you to unravel its secrets.

Writing, for me, is about more than building fantastical worlds. It’s about chasing wonder, asking big questions, and finding emotional truth in places where the impossible becomes real. If a story gives me chills or makes me linger on a single line, I know I’m in the right place, and that’s exactly the kind of experience I try to create for my readers.

1 shortlisted story ⭐️

Contest #309

The Day That Wouldn’t Disappear – read story