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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2019
Submitted to Contest #269
Beyond the seventh summit of the seven ranges stands an empty needlemaker’s hut. Many years ago, a poor needlemaker lived there—back bowed low from long nights bent over his workbench. He smithed by the light of a single taper, ignorant of the stars that traded places with the sun. One evening, a song floated through his window. “Good sir or serf, please let me inMy sight is gone, my eyes are dim,I’m broken shards split limb from limb;Good sir or serf, please let me in.” Outside lay a porcelain owl covered in sheathes of copper feathers and ...
Submitted to Contest #153
The first case I took established my name in the black market of gossip. You know the type: tacit probe followed by the inevitable-yet-revealing “I know a guy.” I owed Ariel for launching me into the spotlight even though it turned me into a marked man. Nobody knew if she called herself Ariel because of the pearls, or if the pearls came afterward. She brought them from outside the gate, flaunting her apparent status with a clatter of beads on her wrist. Opinions split on whether they were real or not. One day we agreed she was a con artist...
Submitted to Contest #147
Every buttercup drooped, sagging and flaccid in the blooming humidity. Saturated air stained floral gowns and starched suits with perspiration. Hot wind teased the air without offering relief, yet Ma-maw’s eyes were icy. She deliberately fastened another button on her crocheted cardigan as the crowd settled behind her. No back row for Ma-maw.The masses shuffled into tiny rows of tidy seating and flapped limp programs against unwavering heat. Lacquered chairs creaked under the heavy crowd, raw thighs pressed against stifling plastic. “Sh...
Submitted to Contest #53
Sweat clung to Kate’s sides and stuck obstinately to her skin. The girls sprawled on the furniture and floors at all angles, like three iced-bottles under noonday glare, but without the refreshing coolness. Kate lifted her damp bangs, wishing for a wayward breeze to break the heavy, oppressive air. “I’m dreaming, of a whiiiiite Christmas, just like—” Carla sprawled on her stomach, cheek pressed against the wooden floor. The serenade of limpid carols drew the merry words into baleful woes. Her smooth voice glided over the floorboards in pre...
Submitted to Contest #50
[10:08 AM] “Move, you livid heap of laundry,” Juniper growls. Her feet dangle uselessly while her arms struggle, half-wedged against and half-clinging to the wood. Her dress strains against her armpits, shoulders bunching fabric in cutting creases and billowing in parachute-like excess below. Seams press against her arms with too-tight ardor, clamoring for the release that will cast her down as a heap of tumbled bones. Dust, she eulogizes, to dust. Her chest shudders with ragged gasps as trembling arms slip her lower, gradually giving in...
Submitted to Contest #20
Sibley's wispy hair is already escaping her ponytail, straying away from the commanding soccer-mom vibe that marshalls her dolls. Her countenance never changes, authority glittering in her grey eyes to dispel any notion that a crumpled dress means she is slumping into a frowsy mother at the end of her rope. She frowns at Baby Ann, the cloth doll who is slowly sliding to the floor and watches her faceplant. At best, Henson the bear is only a mediocre support; this is the third time Baby Ann has disgraced herself.Sibley crosses her arms, a sha...
Submitted to Contest #16
It was the very first lesson Owyn was taught: do not go into the wood. She could step into anything else – candlelight, instruments, raindrops – but wood was always banned. Every child grew up coddled by warnings about the dangers of wood; it was the cornerstone to Kaldor’s survival.The precaution almost seemed unnecessary – children were not taught about Fluidity until they were going on six, and those gifted with the ability were seldom identified before eight. An exceptionally strong-willed or studious Fluid might be revealed around seven...
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