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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2022
Submitted to Contest #292
Olivia did not intend to fall in love with the painting, certainly not after all the men it killed.But, as a criminally underpaid graduate student enrolled in New York City's finest art conservator program, she could not deny the attraction of a decent paycheck and a portfolio boost that left her peers salivating. After all, nothing would solidify her future profession like being the conservator of the fabled Circe in Green.Coveted by the art world, the 60x30-inch portrait of the alluring enchantress—whose silken hair shone like fire against...
Submitted to Contest #290
I am a soldier. I do not want. While the Council didn't select me for the Workforce Section of my dreams—my lanky frame has yet to gain an ounce of muscle in two years, and I think my eggshell bones are refusing to mend sheerly out of protest—things could be worse. I could be in the Sanitation Section, referred to with a less savory "s" word by most, or in the Contamination section, whose latest fleet of workers returned with radiation boils splitting their skin and whose families likely won't see them leave our installation's medical ward. ...
Shortlisted for Contest #204 ⭐️
His face was contorted with fear and pain the moment he died. She knew because she was there, and she couldn’t stop it. As she traverses the pitch black alley, a bead of sweat rolls out from beneath her umber gambler hat and trickles toward the popped collar of her long overcoat. The midsummer night is stifling, humidity hanging in the air. Overturned trash bins and drunken urchins are mere inky silhouettes against the neon lights of Canary Row that flicker beyond the alleyway. She follows the lights like a moth to a flame, the urchins pre...
Submitted to Contest #202
“I miss you.” Those are the three little words stuck in limbo beneath my thumb. I desperately want to send them, but the trepidation crawls like spiders through my muscles, their legs scratching against the inside of my skin. It’s been three months since I’ve talked to Adrianna—not for lack of wanting or lack of thought. I want her brilliant conversations always, and I think of her constantly. Adrianna’s the Sherlock to my Watson. You might wonder why I’m not the Sherlock of my own story, but truth be told I’ve never been protagonist mat...
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