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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2022
Submitted to Contest #301
We landed just after noon. The air hit me the second we stepped out of the terminal, hot, wet, heavy. It clung to my skin like a second shirt, and I couldn’t stop grinning. I was here, in a new country, with the girl I loved. It felt like the start of something. Maybe the start of everything.She nudged me with her shoulder as we waited for our bags. “Smells weird here,” she said, wrinkling her nose, but she was smiling too.“Like adventure,” I told her, and she laughed. God, I loved that laugh. It made my chest ache in the best way.She handed...
Winner of Contest #300 🏆
I’m a miner. I dig holes for a living. ‘Dig’ is a generous word, really. I blow things up so we can go deeper. Drill, charge, blast then bog it out. Then repeat. It’s loud, dirty, and dangerous. But it’s honest work, and there’s a rhythm to it, one that makes sense. Until the day it didn’t The mine is called Kalgara Deep, carved beneath the sun-blasted hills of Western Australia, three hours from the nearest servo, and six from anything you could call a town. It’s not on any tourist map. Just a dot behind a red dirt road lined with scrub and...
Submitted to Contest #299
I swear it wasn’t my fault.Okay, yes, I was standing in the middle of the Queen’s botanical garden at three in the morning, covered head to toe in goose feathers, holding what appeared to be the missing ceremonial orb of Saint Winifred, and yelling something about the moon being a hologram. But if you just give me one minute—just one—I can explain everything.It all started with a pigeon. A very suspicious pigeon.I was walking home from work. Mind you, this was a normal Tuesday. No prophecies, no strange lights in the sky. Just me, a sad litt...
Submitted to Contest #297
The first bullet cracked past my ear like a snapped branch. Then came the rest, a hail of them, chewing into trees and mud around me. I threw myself down, breath caught in my throat, chest tight with that sudden, electric terror that you don’t think about. You just react to it. My rifle slammed into the dirt with me. My cheek stung where gravel bit into it.“Left flank! They’re fucking moving up!” Pasha’s voice came from somewhere through the chaos, maybe ten meters behind me, muffled by the roar of gunfire and the ringing in my ears. Or mayb...
Submitted to Contest #296
I had always believed my son was good. Henry was a good kid. I knew it in my heart. Not perfect. No, of course not. No child is.Sure there had been fights in school, broken windows, a stolen wallet in eighth grade. But boys made mistakes. Boys learned. I raised him to be kind, to be strong, to do the right thing. I believed in him.I believed in him once. I really did.But with the detective sitting across from me, with her eyes like polished stone.Doubt crept in. Does that make me a terrible father? Am I a bad dad for doubting my own?“We have...
Submitted to Contest #295
The taste. The scent. The colour. The burn as it goes down. It’s warmth in liquid form. That slow, burning ember as it spreads from my tongue to my chest. Sinking deep, deep into my bones. The spirits of old wooden barrels carried by the ghosts of sugarcane fields, swaying under the hot, humid sun. The first sip is sweet, molasses rich, caramel smooth with a hint of vanilla. The whisper of spice and smoke, depending on the journey. Then the burn. Not harsh. Commanding. Demanding my attention. A fire, a campfire, its heat licking at my ...
Submitted to Contest #294
It’s over now. And they will never understand what they lost.I can still remember the day. I was in Sydney when it truly began, when the world stopped listening to America.Stopped caring. The warning signs had been there for years, but no one wanted to believe them. Even when the alliances cracked, when the dollar wobbled, when their president blustered about greatness and turned his back on the world, on his allies. On us. There were still people who swore it was all part of the plan. That America wouldn’t abandon its allies. That they...
Submitted to Contest #293
“Timothy, sit down and shut up. Don’t make me tell you again.”“But Dad, I want to see how far I can jump.”“Sit. Down.”“But daaad—”“Not here. Not now. Don’t do this to me, Tim.”The father exhales sharply, pressing two fingers to his temple. Three hours. That’s all he’s asking for. Three quiet, uneventful hours from Perth to Adelaide. No screaming kids, no feet kicking his chair, no running up and down the aisles. More specifically, could the one causing havoc please not be his own?Timothy crosses his arms, sulking. Flying is boring. Why could...
Submitted to Contest #292
Red.Red is love.Red is passion.It’s luck just as much as it is danger.Red is the warning before the fall.It is the colour of heat, of life rushing through veins, of the world at its most alive.But red is also the final colour. The one that stains, that lingers, that does not wash away.It’s pain. Corruption disguised as progress. It’s as much heartache as it is heartwarming.Eliza would learn this in time.At first, red was only a word to her, something the doctor described in hushed, reverent tones before the surgery.“Red is warmth,” he had sa...
Submitted to Contest #291
Hahaha!A childish giggle broke the silence.The hunter stiffened.Cloaked in darkness, hidden beneath a towering pine, he had waited motionless for hours, his breath slow, his rifle steady. A trophy buck in his sight.But now, he wasn’t alone.“Where are you, Daddy? Hahaha!” The voice was soft, playful, floating through the trees.The hunter’s grip tightened. He peered through his scope, scanning the darkness as his prize fled. A few minutes passed. The forest was still. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound, but then the voice.“Hahaha! I see you, ...
Submitted to Contest #290
They couldn’t stop looking at the sky that night. Ribbons of green and purple, pulsing above the city skyline.“Auroras here?” Anna whispered, eyes wide.Steven pulled her close, his hands resting low on her waist. “Never thought we’d see this here, of all places.”The lights were dazzling, and it wasn’t just them who took notice. On all the balconies of their apartment complex, couples and families stood, heads tilted back, faces painted in the flashing colors. A shared silence, awed, uncertain.Kuala Lumpur was normally lively with the sound o...
Shortlisted for Contest #290 ⭐️
Humans love their scripts.Get born. Go to school. Work. Pay bills. Die. Maybe squeeze in a holiday if you’re lucky. And if something shows up that doesn’t fit the narrative—something like, say, a talking platypus—you shove it in a box labeled ‘Crazy’ and move on.It takes most people years, decades even, to change their way of thinking. Catastrophes, miracles, life-shattering events. For me, it was a gray Thursday afternoon at the park. And the words:“The beak isn’t even the weirdest part of me.”I’d been happily enduring my burnt, lukewarm co...
Shortlisted for Contest #289 ⭐️
[PRIVATE CHAT – 2:13 AM]Alex: Jay, something’s wrong. I checked my records, my ID, my photos, everything before two years ago is missing.Jay: Alex… stop.Alex: I’m serious. I don’t remember my childhood. I don’t remember where I was before we met.Jay: That’s just your mind playing tricks on you. It happens.Alex: It’s like I only started existing two years ago.Jay: …That’s not possible.Alex: Right? But then I searched my name.Jay: And?Alex: There was an obituary. Same name. Same age. Died two years ago.Jay: That’s just a coincidence.Alex: I fo...
Submitted to Contest #288
A crack of lightning flashes, paused in time as it illuminates the endless horizon until it's finally swallowed by the ocean below. Kylie sits silently on the patio, tears stream from her eyes as she breathes in the humidity in huffed, muffled breaths. She stares out to sea, her face emotionless except for the streaks of mascara tracing her cheeks. She watches the lightning crack in the distance, unaffected by the booming thunder that follows.She sits alone in silence. The voices of people she never knew rumble in her mind. Yet the...
Submitted to Contest #286
Do you ever wonder what will be left of you when you’re gone?The thought may creep in when you’re alone — on quiet nights, in the spaces between conversations, in the hush of an empty room. It’s not just the fear of dying, no. It’s something quieter, something colder. The fear that one day, your name will be nothing more than burnt paper, ash forever lost to time. That the world will move on without you, as if you were never here at all. Your grandchildren may remember you as frail, and their children will acknowledge that you existed. But a...
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