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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2024
Submitted to Contest #289
Orange streetlamps flicker flames onto my counter-top as I consider the knife. It’s a beautiful thing: ten inches long, with a rippled pattern down the blade. The handle is smooth in my grip- a treated wood, pleasing to touch. It’s sharp; I was just cutting parsnips with it.What made me pause, made me look? Why do I watch the reflected light play across the silvered steel?It would be easy, I think. I drop it. The metal clinks against the counter, wobbling for a moment before coming to rest. I retreat from it, my hands coming up t...
Submitted to Contest #271
Paul wasn’t his real name. Neither was Victor, or Jean, or Dean. But he could convince just about anyone that they were.Passports, Driver’s Licences, Birth Certificates. Victor was married, and you could call his wife. Jean had a civil partner, whom you could watch gardening in the back yard of their suburban home. But Paul lived alone, and it was the simplest person he could be.These men provided services- all kinds of things. Maybe you needed someone found, or someone lost. Maybe you needed a package delivered that the post wou...
Submitted to Contest #269
I found the mirror when I was very young. I remember that it caught my eye because it was very pink, a little rose splotch in the mud. It was so very clean in the midst of that mess. I know that it’s not the most extraordinary thing to look at- just a pink plastic makeup mirror. But to that little girl, it was fascinating.So I picked it up, and I flipped it over and over in my mittens. Dad never liked me to go out in the cold, so on the rare snow days when he did, I was bundled in thick layers. I could hardly move, and if I fell over I...
Submitted to Contest #267
I was born to a storm. To the glee, to the fury, to the pounding, shaking, ripping rhythm of it. There’s no music like that, down here, in the dust and the soil.You were born in a storm. My storm; my mother and father of sky and wind and water. As I was born, so were you- we were siblings. Blood was on the cobblestones that night, blood and water, and the rain wouldn’t wash it away.There was something sacred in the air- the sonorous peal of church bells. A funeral procession, passing undaunted. They were clothed in black and grey, outl...
Submitted to Contest #266
Jo Burnham was a writer- of that, there was no doubt.She’d written articles, short stories, entreaties on the meaning of existence- even three-quarters of a novel. Free days were spent in front of the computer, tap-tap-tapping away ‘til the sun went down. The nights were more of the same, sleep barely stopping her. Yes, she was certainly a writer. What she wasn’t, was an author.Her name wasn’t displayed shelf-side in a bookstore, or highlighted in digital print on the latest e-reader. The only place it did feature? The tag pinned to he...
Submitted to Contest #265
There’s something rather poetic about being trapped in an airport.This thought occurred to one Rudolph Larens, as he sat, luggage on lap, straight-backed in his private lounge chair. As an author, he was often quite taken with the ideas presented by the situations in which he found himself.That this place, which should allow near-limitless freedom, should become my prison…He squirmed with that particular excitement that awaits the scholar embarking on a new journey of expression. The life he lived afforded him many such moments, and this was...
Submitted to Contest #263
Friday nights are supposed to be relaxing. Linda Brown would usually spend them watching a movie, or having a couple of drinks with her mates at the pub. Dangling from barbed wire was decidedly not the best way to start the weekend. She managed to wriggle out of her jacket, somehow avoiding the countless shredding razorblades, and faced her next problem: a ten foot drop. This, at least, solved itself.Linda was no acrobat, as the concrete was all too happy to remind her. “Oof,” went the air that left her lungs.Her bag had cushioned her fall. ...
Submitted to Contest #262
“… thanks, Tom. Heads up, folks, the National Weather Service has issued a heat warning for Fort Worth and Dallas, as well as surroundin’ counties, as you can see…”Norah looked up from her phone, alarmed.“… highs of 120 over the next week’r so…”She was up in an instant, rushing for the front door, grabbing keys from a dish and hat from a hook.“Norah? Where’r you goin’?”This from Clyde, her husband, whose head had appeared around the corner from the kitchen.“Checking on dad,” she said, already half out the door.His brows knitted a foreh...
Submitted to Contest #261
I find it hard to be grateful. The feeling is somewhat foreign to me, as I am oft mired in self-loathing and sadness. Thus, finding things to be grateful for is difficult.That’s not to say that I am lacking such things, only that I am very bad at seeing them. Thus, in the spirit of this week’s prompt, I have decided to enumerate the many good things in my life, in the form of a handy- and easily digestible -numbered list. 1. My Good Looks.To start off, we have perhaps the least valuable item. I am, by most accounts, at the very least d...
Submitted to Contest #260
I hope you’re happy.I still remember when we first met, you know. We were both so young back then. Do you remember? That house was tiny, really, but it felt so big, like a whole world. That first time, it was raining, raining in June. You’d just finished your first year of middle school. The Summer months stretched long and lazy ahead of us, the exciting mundanity of temporary freedom.The rain had put paid to talk of a picnic, a disappointment not easily recovered from. You were playing a telephone game with your sister, when I walked ...
CONTAINS PROFANITY. “God, just fuck already!”I turned a reproachful look on Paula, earning me a flash of her famous grin.“Paula!” I hissed, “what if they heard you?”She showed off more of those teeth, her lips pulling back like a baboon’s.“Come off it,” she whispered, “I’m surprised they can even hear each other!”I returned my gaze to the stage, where Laura and Dennis were busy improvising. Like most of their scenes, this one had turned into a lover’s quarrel, with lots of shouting and angry glares. But, as talented as both were, there ...
Winner of Contest #258 🏆
The sun was harsh today. Through the lens, the scene was black and white, harsh shadows and stark highlights. Emma adjusted the aperture to be as small as it would go, cutting out much of the glare. The relative darkness restored faint traces of flavour to the frame, revealing the detail that the sunlight had tried to hide.A family stood huddled together, centred in a flat, if competent, composition. A man, with a bright smile and dark eyes, leaning close over his children, a pair that shared his expression. Behind them stretched a vas...
Submitted to Contest #255
Mahogany is a very nice wood. When polished to a mirror-finish, the dark tones of chocolate and fresh planting-soil shine through to the top. That was what Reid was focusing on, the wood of the desk.“So how have you been feeling?”Her voice was crisp, professional, like a fresh sheet of printer paper. It held just the right notes of concern and curiosity. It was as polished as the mahogany. His fingers tightened, pulling at the fabric of his jeans.“Good,” he said, trying to inject his voice with levity.The dry rumble that issued from hi...
Submitted to Contest #254
SCANDAL! At Hay-Lorret SALUTATIONS and well-wishes, my most lovely readers!I must apologise for my long absence. I know well that many among you had concerns as to my health and well-being after the revelations of two months prior! I admit, I myself was concerned for a moment. Speaking out loud that which is oft whispered would seem to make one a mite unpopular in the halls of the mighty! Methinks, perhaps, they should tend better to the cleanliness their affairs, than seek the silence of those who shed light upon them. Regardless, dear read...
Submitted to Contest #253
“Will you marry me?”The words ring with echoes of emotion; anticipation, fear, hope. His eyes are wide open, his brow furrowed, his pearly teeth caught on his lower lip. His too-large suit has flopped open, letting his tie snake to freedom over his arm. The whole world is silent, still. Time has stopped, and I am frozen with it. My heart is fluttering in tandem with the butterflies in my stomach.Will you marry me? Will I? Should I? The lights of the restaurant are casting such strange shadows, as if the photons are as unsure how to act...
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