Sarah Atique

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

72 karma pts

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“What's Yours Is Mine” by Sarah Atique

Submitted to Contest #159

She eyed the envelope resting on the passenger seat, pristine but insipid even as it nestled all her preserved fruits of several years of labor; summer jobs, part-time waitressing through university, internships, and finally shavings off of a paycheck that was just enough to keep her expediently sheltered and rudimentarily fed. Smoothing out her thrifted scrubs, she forced herself to exhale; her breath instantly pluming into oblivion. If only she could have compelled the overwhelming sense of foreboding to follow in its flight, she might hav...

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“Shattered Mirrors” by Sarah Atique

He picked at the callouses on his palms in an effort to distract himself from the raging rhythm of his heart; its turbulence causing the view before him to blur. He hadn’t heard her voice in fifteen years. He wondered how it had changed. Had it grown deeper? Had she outgrown her stutter or had it stayed with her? The last time they had talked, her speech was slurred from sleep she had futilely tried to rub away from her glossy eyes.He wished he had more time to explain then and she the ability to understand better, to grasp the gravity of hi...

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“No Good Deed” by Sarah Atique

Submitted to Contest #138

I’m getting tired of cleaning up my own blood. That’s not to say I want someone else to do it for me, but when most nights end with an assortment of cuts, bruises, and varying depths of puncture wounds peppered all over your form, that once easily startled spike in adrenaline starts to wane. In the mirror, crimson seeping lesions and I stare at each other with weary disappointment. And yet, we do our song and dance. We both protest like petulant children when I clean them; them with stings and pinpricks and I, begrudgingly wondering why inju...

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“Cowards Among Us” by Sarah Atique

Submitted to Contest #135

It was nearing midnight when I huddled close to my cousins in the dark of the room, looking up at my sister, Aniya’s, penlight lit face as she told us a story of people who camped out in the woods on a full moon, never to return to recount the tale themselves.She lowered her voice to a whisper as she leaned in and we mirrored her, wanting to know what the sole survivor of that hellish night had said before he wandered off, never to be seen again “Hell is empty, all the devils a’– RRRAAHHHH!”. The jump scare had us screaming at the top of our...

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Author bio

Currently a student of BA in Creative Writing at Falmouth University