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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2021
Submitted to Contest #241
Back in Poland, my mother had been a surgeon. She would tell stories from her days working at the hospital, and my favorite one was about the man who ate a bucket of cherries without spitting out the pits. My mother was awoken in the middle of the night by a frantic phone call, and she ran half-asleep to the hospital. As soon as they put the man under, they cut his stomach open to reveal a mass of undigested cherry pits. My mother still remembered the tink-tink-tink of the pits hitting the metal pan as they scraped them out.As a kid, I loved...
Submitted to Contest #230
Mondays are not peak cheese selling times, I thought to myself as I opened my store. I resigned myself to a slow morning when a woman entered that I’d seen once before. I had just flipped the sign mere minutes ago from Closed to Yes, We’re Open! She rushed in with her head down and her cheeks pink, her shoulders slumped, her spirit broken. “Can I help you?” I asked as she approached. I noticed she was carrying a bundle. She didn’t meet my gaze but started straight down, and I could hardly make out her mumble: “I’m so sorry,” she began ...
Submitted to Contest #222
Grandma June was the one who told me about the Great Molasses Flood of 1919. “There was a huge tank of molasses that sat outside,” she began, scooping molasses out of a jar with a measuring spoon. “Well, the tank was shoddily made, and the temperature that day climbed and climbed and climbed. And what happens to my cookies when they get hot in the oven?” “They spread!” I cried. She beamed at me and nodded. “That’s right! You combine weak construction with expanding molasses, and you get…” She flipped the spoon over and slammed it again...
Submitted to Contest #212
January 17, 1979 Dear Mr. Misner, I am writing to you after I heard the news of your sentencing. Reportings about you have reached Burlington, Texas all the way from Orlando. I have been following your trial on the radio and in the newspapers, and I believe I know more about you than about the President in the White House. The thought of you sitting alone in prison and awaiting your sentence pressed me to write. I hope you have a pleasant day. Cordially, Linda Longstreet February 9, 1979 Dear Miss Longstreet, Your letter was a ...
Shortlisted for Contest #211 ⭐️
I always imagined that, by the time I was thirty-five, I’d be married with kids and living in the suburbs. I could see it so clearly: on a cloudless summer day, my husband would be working on his honey-do list with a tool belt strapped snugly around his waist. I’d be wearing a floppy sun hat while planting flowers in my garden, and the kids would be running around in the backyard, laughing as they kicked a soccer ball. It was a dream that was so vivid, I could feel the sun on my back, smell the freshly cut grass, hear the thump of the soccer...
Submitted to Contest #205
Warning: Profanity Marcie knew she should ignore it. On any other day, perhaps she would have. She mainly received order requests through her website, Cakes by Marcie and Joe (damn, she’d have to change the name). She had her fair share of spammers and pranksters. Had things been different, she would have just deleted it. But she didn’t. Leaning forward in her creaky office chair, hands gripping a steaming mug of tea, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the words on her computer screen: “BITCH CAKE.” Leah bustled in with her sleeves r...
Shortlisted for Contest #201 ⭐️
Warning: mentions of self harm, physical violence, and abuse. So, you’re my lawyer? Hmm. Considering how much my father is paying you, you’d better be good. I’ll be level with you: everyone has their price. From the taxi drivers who will chase idols across Seoul, to the airline agents who will leak the flight details for different groups, to the apartment building residents who will sell the addresses of their famous neighbors - any information and any favor is just a matter of money. Of course, I don’t expect you to be surprised. You’...
Submitted to Contest #200
I didn’t know I was a legend. Years after leaving Our Lady of Perpetual Help, I had no idea that the story of how I stuck it to Father Michael was still circulating among the students. It made its way back to me the summer after I graduated from high school, when Sarah Green’s youngest sister found me lifeguarding at the local pool. Apparently, it was the new way that seniors welcomed incoming freshmen: telling them how I took Communion from Father Michael and threw the Eucharist on the ground. Or, how I threw the Eucharist on the ground a...
Submitted to Contest #197
Katherine had asked Jim to pick Tiffany up after school. For Jim, this was either a sign of Katherine’s unfounded optimism, or her profound desperation. The first and only time he met Tiffany was a disaster. Katherine told him that Tiffany loved Italian food, so he took them to his favorite restaurant. Katherine and Tiffany both showed up looking disgruntled, and the tension was palpable from the moment they stepped through the door. “Sorry we’re late,” Katherine sighed as she gave Jim a hug. “She refused to change her teeth.” “Her wha...
Submitted to Contest #195
On the rare occasion that anyone bothered to ask why he played the drums, Rick Karlsen said that he liked how loud they were - but that was a lie. He didn’t like being loud. He liked being in control. A drummer held the band in the palm of their hand. If he sped up, they sped up. If he slowed down, they slowed down. He was the heartbeat. He had the power. It didn’t bother him that Rachel was the focus of the band. After all, she was the lead singer. Her face was plastered all over MTV and sandwiched between videos of A Flock of Seagulls an...
Submitted to Contest #191
Arigatameiwaku: when someone does a favor for you that you didn’t want or ask for, and the favor causes you trouble, but social customs require you to express gratitude regardless. A Japanese word made up of ‘arigatai’ (‘grateful)’ and ‘meiwaku’ (‘nuisance’). “I’m going to help,” said Doug. Melanie could almost hear him beaming through the phone, proud of his own selfless offer. “Oh no, dad - there’s really no need. We have everything under control - ” “No, no,” he insisted. “I’ll help. I have all this free time now. What else would I ...
Shortlisted for Contest #188 ⭐️
It was going to be a good day. It had to. Lily knew the perfect way to start the day: cinnamon sugar doughnuts and coffee. When she got to the cafe, though, the barista was locking the doors. “Are you closed already?” she asked. The barista shook his head. “Something with the plumbing. They have to shut off the water.” “Oh…” she trailed off. She checked her watch. Is there another cafe nearby? Or a bakery? There’s a place on Randolph Street - no, that’s a Starbucks…they don’t have the right doughnuts. Do I have time to look? She ...
Submitted to Contest #186
Age: 23/51 Because he was my physics teacher, I was now in grad school. I said so in my application - my love of physics was sparked and nurtured by Mr. Turner from the moment I stepped into his class. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know what I would have majored in undergrad, if I would have done research on semiconductors, if I would have pursued my PhD. When he was my physics teacher, Mr. Turner knew how to put on a show. He shot an air bazooka at students who said that air didn’t have mass - students would watch slack-jawed as a ball ...
Submitted to Contest #174
Returning to her childhood bedroom made Sophie feel like she was examining the prototype of a familiar technology. The bookshelves were lined with paperbacks organized alphabetically by author. Plastic dance trophies topped with gold ballerinas were perched on top of her dresser. A gigantic corkboard was mounted over her bed with achievements and memories pinned to every surface. Ribbons from the math team and medals from the science team hung next to photos of Sophie and her friends posing during competitions or dressed up for homecoming. ...
Submitted to Contest #112
“Mommy, I want to go home.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to swallow the scream building in my throat. "This is your home now, sweetie." Rosie crossed her arms. She had been a nightmare all morning, sliding around on the hardwood floor in socks and nothing else, barely dodging the buckets set out for the leaky roof. She was so delighted by my fruitless attempts to catch her that it had become her favorite game every time I dried to dress her. Jason never had a problem getting her ready; she always listened to him the fi...
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