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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
Submitted to Contest #196
She’s fussing over me like good women do, smoothing down the lapels of my jacket. It’s the one gifted to me by the best woman there ever was: my mother. She parts my hair down the middle with her long-tipped nails, while I fidget under her thumb. Hawk’s eyes, she has; they change colors in the sun, first yellowish, then somehow greenish by late afternoon. Healing bruises, those eyes are. If she is displeased with you, he...
Submitted to Contest #150
I died again yesterday. Or it felt that way, at least. It always does. A man caught me in the elevator. He got on at the second floor, when I was busy wheeling Mrs. Denborough out of the way. Something was on the tip of my tongue—Sorry, sir, I think—but by the time the doors opened for the third floor, there were three bullets in my head, and no words at all. I suppose...
Submitted to Contest #142
(TW for miscarriage and child death.)Maybe we should play a game. That’s immersive enough, right?A game?Monopoly. Scrabble? Something—I don’t know!Yeah, let’s introduce him to social constructs. He’ll surely understand that.Do you have any better ideas?Well…Oh wow, I love that game!
🏆 Winner of Contest #105
TW: suicideDr. Delaney visits every Tuesday, at eight o’clock sharp. It goes like this: she knocks three times, in succession, but with no particular rhythm; she calls out our name through the door, softly, and only once; she leaves. Though she intrudes on our treasured evenings together, we admire her persistence, her punctuality. Still, we cannot comply with her wishes—even if we begin to listen for the staccato of her feet outside the door. Tonight is no different. She arrives, she knocks, she waits, and s...
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