S.C. May

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

91 karma pts

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“Paper Butterflies” by S.C. May

Submitted to Contest #192

Whimsy, wallflowers, and Wonderwall. Send me a friend to save me from it all. No longer will I stand to the side. I will run onto the floor of my life and dance a whirl. However, at present, I am a mere flower delivery girl. My days are spent between the florist and seventeen-twenty Wintergreen Street. The rumble of my bicycle over cement mixes with air intoxicatingly sweet. I ring my bell as an announcement to the world that from today onwards I will change. “Always good to see you riding along and ringing your bell, dear girl.” Call...

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“Our Playground” by S.C. May

Submitted to Contest #186

This was our playground. Now, snow covers the swings, slides, and sidewalks equally - all around. Memories of past days drift like snowflakes mingling with the frigid air. My failures of the past are distant echoes of today’s hopeless problems. They whisper playfully in my ear, “nothing is in your favor.” Their shivering hands pull at my hair and tug at my knitted scarf. This was our playground. When I look around, there is no one. Only a line of grey clouds looms. Slowly, it approaches - ready to swallow everything whole. Should I give up,...

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“The Sleepless” by S.C. May

Submitted to Contest #143

Night One: Ari longs for me most at times like these. Her head lays heavy on the golden comforter. The exhaustion of unanswered questions weighs it down. She wants to scream unrestrained and cry unrelenting; however, she cannot reason either of those actions with her mind. Therefore, her empty eyes simply stare at the blank wall. Her trembling arms cradle a stuffed bear to her relentlessly burning heart. If alive, the chubby cream-colored creature would have suffocated to death. It is all loose cotton inside, though. The bear’s littl...

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“Warm Winds” by S.C. May

Submitted to Contest #128

“My doorbell rang, one stuffy day of sticky popsicle sticks and blistering heat. I opened my door to no one, simply sun charred air and the smell of youth. There was no one but, there were eight mismatched cactuses and a pair of sneakers lying - hoping to not be forgotten - on my doorstep.” The woman fiddled with the laces of the sneakers on the table. The synthetic fibers left black smudges on her wrinkled fingers. “Those shoes.” She paused and caressed the side of one. “These shoes. I knew these shoes. They were the ones I had bought all ...

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Author bio

I simply love to write.