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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019
Submitted to Contest #14
Trigger warning: this story depicts self-harm and suicide. Growing up with a masochist for a mother was something new and different. No one else had one. But I did. I would wake up hearing screams and moans emanating from my mother’s bedroom. These weren’t sounds of pleasure. My mother would hurt herself through the night. At eight years old, I didn’t know what to do. Then at nine, ten, eleven years old, I still didn’t know what to do. Now I’m eighteen, about to move out of my childhood home and I’m forced to face those awful memories. I rem...
Submitted to Contest #12
We were born in Communist Poland, when everyone was the same. Across thirty-seven years we were raised to blend in, not one of us a hero. From the buildings we lived in to the food that we ate, not a thing stood out. But the truth was that people were not the same despite appearances and despite the underlying rule of Communism. Some people had less, others more and many had nothing at all. The suffering had made many generous and many kind, but it had not made them heroes. That was the point. _________“Rysiek! Jak sie czujesz? How is everyt...
Submitted to Contest #10
Fear pulsated through Gordon’s heart as the bullets from the guns ripped the air beside him. He was crouched behind some foliage, hoping against hope that his camouflaged attire hid him well. It had been three months of open fire. But despite, or perhaps because of, the fear, the war had made him wise. You wouldn’t expect that of a soldier. If he had been clever, he would have stayed at home. His comrade nudged him in the ribs and whispered just loudly enough to be heard above the fire, “You think we can make it?”“Same as any other time,” Go...
Submitted to Contest #6
The radio isn’t working. This isn’t the first time. This road trip is hell. Figuratively. I know I’m not actually in Hell. It doesn’t matter how much the scenery might resemble what I imagine Hell could look like. I know, because I’m not dead. Not yet. But if a road trip could kill you, this would be it. I glance at barren fields and leafless trees jutting all over outside my car window. Everything here looks dead. It’s looked dead for the past few days. “Whose idea was this trip?” I vent. Everybody is quiet. They know I don’t really need an...
Submitted to Contest #3
“Wlazł kotek na płotek i mruga,” My mother sings as she puts me to bed. I never really understood the words but it goes something like this: “The kitty has climbed the fence and blinks,”This song is the last thing I hear, every night, at bed time. While my friends would hear nursery rhymes of the latest trends, my mother sang this song to me. It’s amazing that I have never learnt it in English. But, for the purpose of this story, I have asked my mother to write the song in its entirety and I have looked up the translation online...
Submitted to Contest #2
“A hundred years old, you say?”“What?”I speak a little louder. “A hundred years old, you say?!” “What?”I speak louder still. “A hundred years old, you say?!!”“What?” Just then, my grandpa burst with unconstrained laughter. “I heard you the first time, Jenny. It’s just more fun this way. There’s so little I can do nowadays.”“Very funny, Grandpa.” “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” “So, how does it feel to be turning a hundred today?” “Like any day, Jen. It’s just another number. I feel as I did at twenty, just with more wrinkles and less hair. And a s...
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