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Rebecca Lewis

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2023

Stories (294)

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17 Followers

15 Following

294 Stories

419 karma pts

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Echoes on the Line

1998 Phone ringing.Click.Leslie- Hello?Todd- Hey, Leslie … It’s me.Leslie- pauses Todd?Todd- Yeah. I wasn’t sure you’d pick up. I wasn’t even sure this was still your number.Leslie- It’s been years. How did you — why are you calling?Todd- I found your number in an old notebook while cleaning up. You know how nostalgia gets you sometimes. I don’t even know if this was a good idea, but I had to try.Leslie- Nostalgia, huh? Didn’t think I’d be part of your nostalgia trip.Todd- That’s not fair. We were friends for a long time, Leslie.Leslie- laug...

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Echoes of the Forgotten

It was supposed to be just another ordinary day. Arlene woke up to the shrill beeping of her alarm clock, rolled out of bed, and glanced at the pale winter light spilling through her curtains. She groaned, her body protesting against the thought of moving. With a sigh, she stumbled toward the bathroom. Her morning routine was as mundane as always — brush teeth, wash face, coffee. But as Arlene reached for her keys to leave for work, a strange sensation washed over her. The air in her small apartment felt... different. It wasn’t anything sh...

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The Visitor's Tale

The annual Blok family Christmas Eve dinner was a longstanding tradition. Each year, rain or shine, the family gathered at Irena Blok's sprawling Victorian home on the outskirts of town. The polished mahogany dining table gleamed under the light of a crystal chandelier, set with the finest china and silverware passed down through generations. Irena's, the family matriarch, believed in the importance of tradition. Every detail was meticulously planned. From the perfectly roasted turkey to the placement of the centerpiece — a gilded porcelai...

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Dreamweavers Part 2 Threads of the Dreamroot

The line between reality and dreams had always been thin for Kira since she embraced her role as a Dreamweaver, but that night, as she stood in the middle of the dreamscape's sprawling forest, the surrealness struck her anew. The forest's trees shimmered with a silver glow, their branches humming softly with an unspoken melody. The ground beneath her feet seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat, and the air was alive with flickering motes of light — dream fragments drifting freely. Yet, despite the dreamscape's usual serenity, Kira co...

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The Masquerade of Shadows The Final Chapter- Echoes of the Mask

The snowfall was heavier than expected that Christmas Eve, blanketing the streets in silence. Darren sat alone in his modest apartment, the glow of the newly finished community center’s grand opening still warm in his mind. But as the night stretched on, the cheer of the day faded, leaving an emptiness he hadn’t anticipated. This was his first holiday alone. His estranged family wouldn’t call; they hadn’t in years. His closest friends had drifted away during his darker days. The project with Kendra had given him purpose, but now, in the qu...

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In His Footsteps Part 3 The Mirror's Edge

The cabin sat in silence, the air heavy with a sense of finality. Justine remained seated, staring into the charred remains of the fire, as though it could offer answers. But the embers had long since gone cold. The cycle had taught her one thing- the truth didn’t come easy, and it came with a price. Yet, as much as the stranger’s cryptic warnings haunted her, she refused to let despair win. Adrian was out there — he had to be. And she would find him, no matter how many times she had to fall. As if in response to her determination, a sou...

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Shadows in the Pines

The smell of damp earth and pine lingered in the air as Gina trudged through the woods, her boots crunching against a trail hidden under layers of autumn leaves. She tugged her scarf tighter around her neck. The sun had dipped below the horizon an hour ago, and the fading light painted the forest in hues of deep purple and black. She’d taken this path countless times before, usually during the day, when the woods felt like an extension of her small cottage on the edge of town. Tonight, however, she was out later than planned, thanks to a s...

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Cat’s Path to Forgotten Places The Final Chapter- Threads of Memory

Cora awoke to the sound of bells — soft, melodic chimes that carried through the cool, crisp air. The light of a pale sun filtered through a misty haze, illuminating the city around her. The streets she had fought to protect shimmered with an otherworldly glow, the decay receding further with each passing moment. Yet, as she stood in the heart of this magical place, a persistent unease settled in her chest. It was the most wonderful time of the year — or so she thought. The city felt different, alive in a way it hadn’t been before. Garland...

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The Light She Left Behind

The snow fell gently on the small New England town of Maplewood, blanketing the streets in pristine white. Christmas lights twinkled from every house, their warm glow cutting through the frigid air. But for Marian, the festive season felt hollow. This was her first Christmas without her mother. Marian sat on the worn leather couch in the living room, staring at the half-decorated tree in front of her. A box of ornaments sat open on the floor, but she couldn’t bring herself to continue. Every ornament held a memory- the ceramic angel she’...

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Blizzard Terminal Tango

Susan Jensen had never intended to spend Christmas Eve in a snowy airport terminal, much less in the company of a complete stranger. But as the blizzard outside roared like a wild animal, she realized her meticulously planned itinerary was nothing more than a cruel joke played by fate. Her flight to Minneapolis, where her family was eagerly awaiting her arrival, had been canceled hours ago. The airline’s desk, overwhelmed by passengers demanding answers, offered nothing but frazzled apologies and vague promises about “rescheduling in the m...

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The Watchers of Maplewood

Maplewood was the kind of town people drove through without giving a second thought. Nestled between two larger cities, it was the quintessential small town — where the air smelled of freshly cut grass, and the biggest scandal of the year usually involved a stolen garden gnome. But beneath its idyllic exterior, something sinister had always lurked, unnoticed by its 800 residents. Tiffany Miller, a 33-year-old schoolteacher, had returned to Maplewood six months ago. After her divorce, she decided to leave the chaos of Chicago and move back ...

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The Masquerade of Shadows Part 2 The Harbinger's Gift

The opulent chandelier hung lifeless, its crystals dull and heavy in the suffocating darkness. The ballroom, once alive with music and laughter, now stood as a mausoleum of faded grandeur. Shadows clung to the corners, creeping along the polished floor, and the air carried the faint metallic tang of something unseen. Kendra Carrington sat in the center of it all, the ornate box trembling in her hands. Its carvings seemed sharper in the dim light, each twist and turn of the pattern like a whisper she couldn’t quite catch. The note inside la...

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In His Footsteps part 2 Eternal Echoes

The wind’s howl had turned into a relentless roar by the time Justine stirred awake in the middle of the night. She wasn’t sure what had woken her, but an oppressive unease pressed down on her chest. The fire in the stove had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls of the cabin. Adrian’s chair was empty. Panic jolted her fully awake. “Adrian?” she called out, her voice hoarse and trembling. The only response was the sound of the door creaking open. Heart pounding, Justine grabbed the flashlight from her bag and rushed...

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Wherever You Go

“I’m sorry.” The words trembled out, quieter than I intended, barely cutting through the low hum of the coffee shop. Zoya’s hand froze mid-motion, her latte hovering just shy of her lips. Her sharp gaze flicked up to mine, and I felt the weight of it — a blade ready to strike. “For what exactly, Jared?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying that razor-sharp edge I knew too well. This was it. My last chance to salvage the remnants of what we once had — or bury it for good. My palms, slick with sweat, clung to the edge of the table as I...

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The Coldest Day

The wind was relentless. It howled through the skeletal trees, shaking loose the last stubborn leaves that clung to frozen branches. Each gust rattled the windows of the old cabin where Cristina huddled beneath a pile of blankets. Outside, the world was cloaked in white, the snowfall so thick it blurred the horizon into nothingness. The temperature had plummeted to a record-breaking low, the kind of cold that stung your lungs and froze your eyelashes together if you dared venture out. Cristina didn’t dare. The cabin had been her late gra...

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Author bio

I spend a lot of time pulling at threads most people would rather leave alone. Whether it’s writing fiction, watching films, or reading, I’m drawn to the kinds of stories that sit with you long after they’re over — the ones that unsettle more than they resolve. I like ambiguity when it feels earned, symbolism that doesn’t scream for attention, and characters who are complicated enough to make you uncomfortable. In my own writing, I’m circling around guilt, power, transformation — and the kind of dread that creeps in rather than announcing itself. I’m not interested in stock villains or easy catharsis; I’m after something a little more tangled than that. My stories tend to live in darker spaces — but with enough humanity to still matter. When it comes to film, I lean toward psychological complexity and strong atmosphere. Nolan, Lynch, Tarkovsky, Villeneuve — directors who aren’t afraid to take their time and leave space for discomfort. Same goes for music. I’m pulled toward melancholic, layered, charged stuff- Radiohead, American Football, Cigarettes After Sex, Chopin, The Weeknd. Anything that feels a little haunted. I don’t buy into neat answers. I’m not religious. I don’t think the world was designed with us in mind. But I think meaning exists in how we respond to that — what we choose to make of it. That’s what I’m writing toward, whether I realize it or not.