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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021
Submitted to Contest #101
I missed home. I missed the kids and my best friend. I missed my freedom. I missed being in charge of everyone. When I was in charge, people needed me. People needed me now, but they were different. They were grown-ups. All I was to them was a little twelve-year-old pawn. Why had I taken this job? It may have been the stupidest thing I’d done in my whole life. Rain pattered on the library window, and I watched just in case the sky decided to change its mind. The necklace my mother gave me years ago was heated by my rubbing of its shar...
Submitted to Contest #100
The sack over my head itched my face and fingers dug into my skinny 12-year-old arms, fingers of adults. All I could think of was why I didn't accept Luther's invitation to tea. My heart was in my throat and I could barely breathe through it. I thought I'd be okay ignoring Luther, that he would simply leave me alone. How stupid of me. I should have known better. My breaths rattled as the men dragged me through a door, which I knew was a door because my foot caught on the threshold and I would've tripped if not for them half carrying me ...
Chicken noodle soup had to be the easiest thing to make in the world, but for some reason, my brother and I couldn't figure it out. We were staying with old Aunt Nell for the summer. The only problem was that Aunt Nell, who was actually our great-great aunt, was ninety-one years old and live in a musty cabin up in the mountains where it was the temperature of winter without the pleasure of snow. As the older sister, I took responsibility to rummage through the pantry, Aunt Nell's feeble coughs carrying down the short hallway into the kitch...
Submitted to Contest #84
My hair is the softness and scratchiness I imagine grass to be from what I’ve read in books. I run my hand over my head for the fiftieth time today; I had it shaved off last month because of the lice outbreak. The boys and girls run around the cement room, jumping through each of the ten bunk beds, screaming and throwing pillows. They tap their heads on the low ceiling. One boy cries and cradles his elbow, others gathering around to console him. Normally I would stop the chaos. Normally I would calm the child. Normally I wouldn’t think about...
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have any postage stamps,” the lady says in her bored voice, standing on the other side of the counter in her baby blue polo. A plexiglass shield separates us and I glare into my own reflection, brow furrowed and mouth open. The coffee stain on my tanktop has leaked into my opened blouse, staining it a muddy red, even though I tried to blot it away with an old math assignment in my car. I blink three times. I’ve been waiting in the line for nearly an hour. “Can’t you just print out a sticker and I give...
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