Red Eleven

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021

Stories (5)

5 Stories

86 karma pts

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“Stolen Treasures ” by Red Eleven

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 ...

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“A Forced Tea Party” by Red Eleven

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...

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“Chicken Noodle Soup” by Red Eleven

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 sis...

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“When I Met the Sun” by Red Eleven

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 gatheri...

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“Running Around for Rent ” by Red Eleven

“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. ...

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Author bio

Traveler, Writer, Reader, Actor This is where I hash out my ideas and learn about my characters. Thanks for reading! I always love to chat about writing craft so feel free to start up a conversation about it!