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Rebecca Lewis

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2023

Stories (310)

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22 Followers

21 Following

310 Stories

509 karma pts

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The Last to Remember

The world had lost its color. It started slowly, like a sickness creeping into the earth. At first, the skies dulled — blue turned to slate, then to a flat, indifferent gray. The trees followed, their once-vivid greens leeching away until they stood lifeless, their bark and leaves indistinguishable. The flowers withered into husks of gray dust, and the rivers ran like liquid steel. People didn’t notice at first, not really, until the color left their skin. That was when the panic set in. Doctors and scientists called it Chromalysis, bu...

2 likes

Blood and Stone

By the time they came for her, Maria had already decided- she would not die beneath the mountain. The prophecy had been clear. The Oracle, an old woman with milky eyes and the voice of dried leaves, had spoken it before all the gathered villagers. "On the night the moon bleeds, the mountain will call its daughter home." And there was no doubt who the daughter was. Maria, born beneath the shadow of the great peak, marked from birth by the gods with hair the color of storm clouds. The village elders bowed their heads in resignation, whis...

1 like

The Boy in the Mirror

The house at the end of Black Hollow Road had been abandoned for years. It was one of those places locals spoke of in hushed tones, where kids dared each other to spend the night but never did. The windows were black holes, the porch sagged like a tired sigh, and the trees surrounding it pressed in as if they, too, wanted to forget its existence. I had never believed in ghost stories, but I believed in opportunity. The house was mine now — left to me in my uncle’s will. A man I had never met, had never even heard of until the lawyer’s le...

1 like

Frequencies of Obsession

Paul first heard her voice on a Thursday afternoon, while absently scrolling through late-night radio stations. It was low, husky, touched with a sorrow that settled deep into his bones. His fingers stilled on the dial. The host identified herself as Barbara, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was how she spoke — as if she were whispering only to him, her voice curling through the static like a beckoning hand. His breath shallowed, his pulse slowing to match the gentle cadence of her words. He sat motionless, his grip tightening ...

1 like

Red Sky, Fading

Scott sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. His heart thundered in his chest as the last wisps of the dream evaporated from his mind like smoke in the wind. It had been so real. The streets, the people, the terror — it all felt like more than just a dream. He closed his eyes, trying to recall details. A city of towering glass and steel, strangely familiar yet utterly alien. A sense of purpose, of urgency, but he couldn’t recall why. And the sky — it had been red, an angry, seething red. “Just a dream,” he muttered, running a hand ...

3 likes

The Space Between Us

The world had not yet turned cold, but the air carried a whisper of impending winter. Debrae stood at the edge of the train platform, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, watching as the horizon bled into an early twilight. The train, a hulking metal serpent, sat idle on the tracks, its breath visible in the crisp autumn air. Phil stood beside her, close enough to touch but careful not to. There had been a time when distance between them was unbearable. Now, it was a chasm they both felt but neither dared to acknowledge. The ticke...

2 likes

The Weight of Kindness

It was a crisp October evening, the kind where the air holds a bite that settles deep in your lungs. The leaves in the alley rustled as I stepped out of the coffee shop, the scent of espresso and burnt sugar still clinging to my coat. I almost missed him, huddled there against the dumpster, a tattered blanket wrapped around thin shoulders, dark eyes peering up from under unkempt hair. He was just a kid — fifteen, maybe sixteen. I should’ve kept walking. That’s what the city teaches you. Ignore. Move on. Someone else’s problem. I’d learne...

2 likes

Between the Pages

The bookshop smelled of ink, old paper, and the faintest hint of vanilla from the café in the corner. It was the kind of place that felt like stepping out of time — soft jazz humming through the speakers, dim lighting casting warm pools of gold over rows of well-loved books, and a steady hush of pages turning and espresso machines hissing. Nancy had been coming here for years. It was a ritual, a safe haven from the noise of the city. Every Saturday, she claimed the same table by the window, tucked away in the corner where she could read wi...

2 likes

Where the Rain Stands Still

The first time he saw her, she was standing in the rain, hands in her coat pockets, eyes fixed on something far beyond the city skyline. She didn't flinch when the cold drizzle kissed her cheeks, didn't step aside when hurried strangers brushed past. She just stood there, utterly still, as if she belonged to the world in a way no one else did. He hadn't meant to stop. He was late for the train, his coffee already losing its warmth between his fingers. But something in her presence — the way she seemed untouched by everything, yet completel...

2 likes

The Weight of a Whisper

The first time I saw them together, I knew they would be dead within the week. The girl had soft brown hair and a nervous habit of tucking it behind her ear. The boy, taller, with hands that twitched as if he was always about to reach for her, had the kind of face that made people whisper. Not because of its handsomeness, though he was not unpleasant to look at, but because it held something rare. Something dangerous. Affection. I watched them from the corner of the café, my tea cooling in front of me. They were careful. He didn’t touc...

2 likes

Reckoning

The bass thumped through the floor, sending vibrations up through the soles of my shoes as I locked the door to the small, dimly lit bathroom stall. The music outside was a steady, pulsing heartbeat, the lifeblood of the nightclub. I leaned against the metal wall, inhaling deeply through my nose to steady myself. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and something vaguely floral clung to the air. I had exactly fifteen minutes before he arrived. Fifteen minutes to erase one version of myself and construct another. I shrugged off my coat and toss...

1 like

The Cost of Truth

The Key to the Past Ever since she was a child, Rachel Mann had believed her father died a hero. Her mother, Mackenzie, never spoke of it in detail, only repeating the same story in measured, sorrowful tones — he had been a journalist investigating corruption when he was murdered by those who wanted to keep their crimes hidden. The Mann name had carried a quiet reverence in their small New England town, and Rachel had grown up wearing that legacy like armor. Now, at thirty-two, Rachel had followed in his footsteps, an investigative jour...

2 likes

The Voice That Shouldn’t Be

The moon hung low in the sky, a sliver of silver light barely strong enough to cut through the thick forest canopy. The trees stood like sentinels, their trunks gnarled and knotted, as if whispering secrets only they could understand. The night air was damp, carrying the scent of moss and decay. Eric tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife, his breath shallow. He had been walking for hours, his boots heavy with mud, his mind lost in a labyrinth of uncertainty. There was no telling how far he had come — or if he had gone in circles. He ...

2 likes

I Never Left

[Private Messages – EchoChat App]Kevin [9:42 PM]-Hey, is this Steve?Steve [9:42 PM]-Yeah. Who’s this?Kevin [9:43 PM]-It’s Kevin. From your Discord server. You said I could message you here.Steve [9:43 PM]-Oh, right. Hey! What’s up?Kevin [9:44 PM]-Not much. Just saw you were online. Thought I’d say hi.Steve [9:45 PM]-Cool. You’re new to the server, right? Like, last week?Kevin [9:45 PM]-Yeah. Been lurking mostly. But I like the vibe. You all seem close.Steve [9:46 PM]-Yeah, we’ve known each other a while. But new people are always welcome.Kev...

2 likes

Vanishing Point

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. The walls are a dull gray, peeling in places, and the air smells faintly of mildew and something metallic. A single flickering bulb hangs from the ceiling, casting uneven shadows that dance across the floor. My head throbs, a dull ache that pulses behind my eyes, and my mouth feels dry, like I’ve been sleeping for days. I try to sit up, but my body feels heavy, uncooperative. My hands are resting on a cold, hard surface — a metal table, I realize, as my fingers trace its edges. I blink, ...

3 likes

Author bio

Hi, I’m Rebecca Lewis. I’m drawn to stories that don’t flinch — ones that deal with power, violence, identity, and all the messy human dynamics most people prefer to ignore. I care about how systems work, how people survive them, and how we carry what’s unsaid. I read and write with a sharp lens when it comes to misogyny, racism, queerness, and the stories we tell to make sense of harm. I love fiction that’s fast-paced but layered — bonus points if it’s queer, complicated, or refuses neat resolution. I approach astrology like I do most things- with a focus on timing and context, not platitudes. I’m skeptical of anything that demands silence or self-erasure. I don’t do small talk well, and I don’t tolerate bullshit — when it comes dressed up as tradition, authority, or ‘just how things are.’ I value emotional honesty, autonomy, and holding people accountable when it counts. Most of what I create — or even just pay attention to — is about that space between what happened and what it means. That’s where the real story lives.