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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2023
Submitted to Contest #303
The life support machine cried. "Time of death, 15:00."I couldn't care less about what the doctor and nurse said afterwards. My last conversation with Sister Mary Margaret...it was like a splinter under my nail.The rest of the world sounded muffled, but then I could hear the doctor again. "Whatever she said to you, don't take it personally. It's called confabulation, the creation of false..."Yes, I know what confabulation is. But that...that couldn't be, could it?It was like she described a recurring nightmare in perfect words...the click of...
Submitted to Contest #286
Walt waits at his desk for the moment to end, then puts his fountain pen to the yellowed page and writes in exquisite cursive. When he reaches the last page, he pauses to let the ink dry, then shuts the leather-bound journal and places it in the brown trunk by his feet with the others. "Six hundred pages. That should do it." The kettle whistles to him from the kitchen, the same kettle he had burnt his arm on when he was five. The white scar had since weathered, lost under folds of wrinkles and a thin layer of hair, but always he remembered a...
Submitted to Contest #275
It was on the longest day, when the sun was at its brightest, that Jeric remembered what he had to do later that day. His father had just harvested the winter barley, and they had to transport the sacks by horse and cart to Toncton. He wouldn't forget. At least, his father would make sure he never forgot. A curious pine marten found Jeric sleeping in the woods beyond the town after the sun had begun its descent. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but he didn't think he had any chores otherwise he would have heard his father or mothe...
Submitted to Contest #270
Saph stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, biting her lip. Candles flickered as the walk-in pantry next to the hearth whispered that it was almost empty. She inspected all the pine wood shelves, and in an old, tired-looking barrel at the back, she found one small sack of wild rice. "Too little rice for a vegetable stew," she said aloud. She thought she could bake a flat loaf with the rest of the flour in the pantry, or some kind of cake with the eggs, milk and the honey. Maybe she would, just to be safe. Use everything, spare nothing. She...
Submitted to Contest #243
Haru ruminates in a darkened corner of the café, away from the wooden counter and the queue of customers. We lock eyes as I wander over. He stirs his tea three times in a circular motion with a silver spoon. "Were we supposed to meet again so soon?" I ask as I take a seat at the table, putting my satchel of books down beside me."No. That's the problem."Chaotic jazz music lilts overhead from speakers attached to the wall. I don't know who the artist is, but the melodies and rhythms seem to collide and bounce off each other. My eyes lift, and ...
Submitted to Contest #239
Si was midway on his journey when he stopped and sat on a white rock. An adjacent, crooked signpost with indecipherable letters (except an 'A' and an 'O'), pointed up a rising, straight road. His manual watch had stopped at ten o’clock, and he had forgotten to wind it up when he woke up earlier. He could not remember what time he left the hotel, but he did remember the rosy sunrise from the dirty bedroom window. Thirsty, and a bit warm, he took out a water bottle from his leather backpack and drank from it, then looked back. As he did so, a ...
Submitted to Contest #204
The sun was rising when the Spotter crossed the trickling stream into the Borderlands. His steed was a black Rhodanian horse, known across Errat for their fierce tempers and immense strength. It was the only horse that he could ride, and this one he had tamed personally. "Steady, Quickbeam," he whispered as they rode onwards. On the horizon, encircled by orange hills, was Triumph, a town founded after the Genocide. The perimeter of the town the Empire had named was fortified with crooked palisade fences. As the Spotter and Quickbeam entere...
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