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Savannah Hoover

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2024

Stories (13)

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27 Followers

20 Following

13 Stories

267 karma pts

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She Danced with Death

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #302

I met him the day my brother died.The nurses said the bleeding had stopped, but the monitors betrayed them—one slow, dragging beep followed by a flatline. My mother collapsed. My father screamed at a god he stopped believing in years ago. I stood perfectly still, like if I moved, the world would crack beneath my feet.And then I saw him.He stood in the corner of the hospital room—tall, thin, wrapped in something darker than black. Not a cloak, not a robe, but a presence. I should have screamed. I should have run. But his face wasn't a skull, ...

1 like

Don't Let Me Forget

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #301

I wake up in a bed that isn't mine.The ceiling fan hums like an insect. Slow. Lazy. Watching me.The walls are yellow. Not the sunlit yellow of memory, but the kind of yellow that seeps into things and rots them from the inside. I don't know where I am. The bed sheets are stiff, tucked like a straitjacket around my legs. There’s a dresser with peeling white paint. A lamp with a frayed cord. A picture frame. A man in the frame.He looks familiar. The eyes. Something about the eyes. He has a tired smile, like he’s worn it too long. I blink at hi...

12 likes

Precision Like That

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #301

When I accepted the summer position at Fairview County Morgue, I told myself it was practical. A clinical environment. A line on my med school application. And yet, beneath that logic pulsed a darker thrill—something primal, something I didn’t yet have the language to name.The ad was blunt:Night Assistant Needed. No Experience Required. Must Be Comfortable Around Bodies.I was twenty-one, broke, and desperate to distinguish myself in a sea of pre-med overachievers. I thought proximity to death might lend me gravitas. That’s what I told myself...

7 likes

The Girl Made of Yellow

Savannah Hoover

She is yellow. Not just in the color she wears, but in the way she exists—like the first golden streaks of dawn spilling over the horizon, kissing the world awake with gentle warmth. Her hair is a cascade of sunlight, rich and golden, tumbling in loose waves that gleam as though woven from honey and spun silk. Each strand catches the light, glistening like sun-drenched fields of wheat swaying in a late summer breeze. When she moves, her hair moves with her, shimmering, shifting, as if it holds the very essence of the sun itself.Her eyes, dee...

5 likes

30 Seconds of Courage

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #290

His Point of ViewThe neon lights of the café flickered against the damp pavement as I walked past, hands shoved deep into my coat pockets. I wasn’t thinking about much—just another cold February night, another lonely walk home—until I saw her.She was sitting alone in a corner booth, stirring a cup of coffee with slow, absentminded circles. The world outside the glass blurred around her, and for a moment, I swore she wasn’t real.Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, dark and glossy, like ink poured over silk. The warm glow of th...

8 likes

I Love You GG

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #288

The hardest goodbye is the goodbye you don’t get to say. The one that lingers with you forever.The funeral home was cloaked in a heavy stillness, broken only by the distant hum of an old organ. Soft whispers and muffled sobs floated through the dimly lit room, weaving into the scent of lilies, wax, and the aged wood of the pews. At the front of the room, Grandma lay in her casket, surrounded by bouquets and framed photographs that chronicled a life filled with love and quiet resilience. Her hands, now cold and still, clutched a rosary, the s...

31 likes

Imaginary

Savannah Hoover

I had always been there for Emma. Always. From her first scraped knee on the playground to her sleepless nights drowning in tears she wouldn’t explain, I was the one constant in her life. Others came and went, but I stayed. I thought that meant something. I thought that meant everything.For months, I’d been urging her to see someone. A therapist, a counselor—anyone who could help her piece herself back together. She would stare at me with those tired eyes, the weight of her world etched into her slumped shoulders. “I’m fine,” she’d say. But ...

5 likes

I'm Not Crazy

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #284

TW: This story contains mentions of mental illness, blood, and... murder? You'll have to talk to him about that one.You still think I’m lying, don’t you? You’re judging me. You think I’m some kind of monster, right? I can see it in your eyes, I can hear it in the way you’re reading these words, like you think I’m crazy. You think I’m just making this up, trying to get out of something I did. I can feel it. You’re judging me, aren’t you? I can hear you saying it in your head: “He did it. He’s guilty. He’s crazy.” Well, guess what? You’re wron...

14 likes

A Christmas Miracle

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #284

Snow fell softly over the quiet park, blanketing the earth in a layer of white. The world felt still, as if holding its breath. In the middle of this silent scene sat a basket, nestled between the roots of an old oak tree. Inside the basket lay a newborn baby, swaddled in a thin, faded blanket. The baby’s cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, their tiny fists trembling as they peeked out from the blanket's frayed edges.The baby’s eyes, wide and unblinking, stared up at the sky. Above, the gray clouds shifted and swirled, allowing faint bea...

5 likes

An Invitation

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #280

In the quiet of the evening, when the world outside hummed softly with the sounds of life, a man sat alone in a dark room. The air was thick with tension, his mind swirling in a whirlpool of questions, doubts, and brokenness. His hands, once steady, now trembled slightly as they gripped the sides of the wooden chair, the only solid thing in his existence. He could feel the weight of the chair beneath him, the coolness of its surface grounding him in a world that felt too distant to touch.The room was nearly suffocating in its stillness. He h...

13 likes

Behind The Door

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #280

"What’s behind the door?" It was Elise’s first question as she toured the creaking house on Hollow Ridge. The realtor, a wiry man with darting eyes, a sweat mustache, and fingers that fidgeted with his tie, hesitated before answering.“That?” He forced a grin, but it came out brittle, like a shard of broken glass. His gaze lingered on the door: a crooked, time-warped plank at the end of the upstairs hall. “Just a crawlspace. Best leave it alone. There’s plenty of storage throughout the rest of the house, you won’t need that dusty old thi...

10 likes

The Last One

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #279

Every morning, I wake in the same bed, under the same sterile light, in the same suffocating room. The walls are stark and bare, closing in on me with every passing day—or so it feels. The air smells of antiseptic and decay, thick and cloying, as though this place is slowly rotting from the inside out. The hum of the ventilation system drones on, an endless mechanical whine that burrows into my skull.There’s nothing else. No voices. No footsteps. No signs of life beyond these walls. The world is empty. The world is gone.I am the last man ali...

13 likes

Nightmare

Savannah Hoover

Submitted to Contest #279

In the suffocating stillness of the night, beneath a sky so dark it seemed to swallow the stars, Ethan awoke with a jolt. Cold sweat dripped down his face, his heartbeat pounding in his ears like a war drum. His breath came in ragged gasps, each exhale sharp and strained, as if the very air had become a prison. The room around him was pitch-black, yet somehow, it felt alive—the darkness felt thick, oppressive, almost as if it had a mind of its own. The air reeked of something metallic, damp, and choking, like blood left too long to fester.Th...

15 likes