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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021
Submitted to Contest #302
I’ve always known deep down that Ma was right. And I’ve only just understood what she meant all along. You see, once, the days slipped through my fingers thick and fast. The mornings were dark, the coffee darker. I used to wash the bitterness away with sterile scents from the operating theatre. The surgical mask was reassuring; not just comfortable but warm, as if it were made for me. And I would never glance backwards to see who was slotting the tools so neatly into my grasp. I went home whenever I could, though Ma never asked about my sur...
Submitted to Contest #280
8/10Do not eat that biscuit.Really? Why not? It looks pretty normal to me.Just don’t. Are you saying there’s something wrong with it? Yes. Fine. What about the tea? Can I have that? It’s chamomile. It smells so damn good and I’m really thirsty.No.ARE YOU ALRIGHT ANNA? YOU HAVEN’T TOUCHED YOUR TEA.I’m not allowed to have any.I PROMISE YOU, THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH IT. IT’S JUST CHAMOMILE TEA. YOU WATCHED ME MAKE IT FOR YOU LIKE FIVE MINUTES AGO.Don’t drink it. Sorry, I can’t drink it. OKAY, WELL I’LL LEAVE IT HERE I...
Submitted to Contest #279
Uttarakhand, Northern IndiaSummer1925 The most frightening discovery of the morning was not in fact the spattered blood of the missing boy, but a trail of tracks suggesting it was the Man Eater’s doing. I held Vinu’s trembling shoulders in a firm embrace, his eyes darting back and forth between the blood and the tracks, and all around us the throng of pilgrims shared his slack-jawed, fearful expression. Nearby, Naresh and the sadhu (I never learned his name, since he referred to himself as only sadhu, though he was far from the only ho...
Submitted to Contest #263
Dad holds up the mangled school bus, eyeing me expectantly.‘Be careful. Be controlled.’I bite back a retort. My last few tries were controlled, and I’ve hardly damaged the bus at all. I clench my fist tighter this time, then I swing as hard as I can, the slightest of jolts shooting up my elbow. BOOM. The bus rockets out of Dad’s grasp, swatted into the distance with the momentum of an artillery shell. The junkyard around us thunders with the impact. Car windows crack and shatter, glass tinkling as it hits the ground. A few stray sh...
Submitted to Contest #210
‘Why’d you turn off the news? Do you want to talk about something?’ says Anabela, a restless finger tapping against her coffee cup, a tremor contorting the liquid. Her tone is casual, as if we’re going to delve into our usual lighthearted discussions, or laugh about our alien speculations from yesterday. But I know her tells. Her back is unnaturally stiff against the office chair and she won’t meet my eyes. Her gaze flickers around the office instead. Before responding, I glance around to make sure we’re alone, or maybe to delay the con...
Submitted to Contest #170
“When at last we meet, we shall talk so soft, the way young lovers do…”“I daresay,” Natalia teased, “you are making eyes at the bard.”“Lia!” Grace whispered furiously. She dropped her gaze and smoothed the fabric of her dress. “Must the entire court hear your babbling?”Lia’s smirk grew wider. “Gray, the entire court can see you staring at each other. He looks more often at you than at his lute.”“Nonsense,” she replied, though a smile tugged at her lips. As if against her will, her eyes wandered back to the slim figure lounging in the midday ...
Shortlisted for Contest #163 ⭐️
I never asked Ma about her favorite animal, but it was probably one of those birds that eats insects off the backs of sub-Saharan oxen. She had a neurotic desire to look after people, and if they swatted her away, she’d swoop right back in and start pruning again. After she retired from nursing, she bought a herd of bison and spent her days fluttering around them instead.Before the Big C took her, she used to say, without a lick of humor, that they were her kids. All fifteen of them were good as gold, she’d add, ‘cause they did nothing but c...
Submitted to Contest #157
Content Warning: loss of pregnancy.She holds my gaze a heartbeat too long, and though we both recall the past, it’s the future we see clearest. I shouldn’t, but I’m powerless as my legs carry me across the atrium towards her. I can’t stop myself from admiring those lips, reposed against her wineglass. I can’t stop my eyes from tracing down her slender fingers, pale skin, gleaming fabric, and the shape of her body underneath. It doesn’t matter what I tell her, or what she says back. This love affair has only one ending.When I’m driving home, ...
Submitted to Contest #152
[Content Warning: Claustrophobia]East Side, London, 1889.Charlie sobs into the dark. He doesn’t want to be one of the abandoned boys. When Patch got stuck, Master Smith left him in there for a week until the landlord complained. They had to break the wall with a hammer to get him out. Charlie hadn’t seen it, but the other apprentices said they found him curled up like he was asleep, but all stiff-like. Patch didn’t sweep any more after that.Charlie’s knees are level with his chin, his head presses against sweltering bricks, and the brus...
Submitted to Contest #148
Content Warning: language, sexual references, nudity (not descriptive).Vrrrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrr-“Fuck off,” Mandy mumbled, backhanding her phone screen.-ttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vr-“It ain’t gonna snooze, Mands. It’s a phone call,” Brad groaned from the other side of the bed.-rrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrr-“Good morning, Mandy speaking. Oh, hi Kate, how are you? Yes, of course. Oh- oh, you’re outside? No, sorry, I didn’t hear. Yes, er, yes, the viewing is still today. Would you mind- er, would you mind giving me a few moments to make some fina...
Shortlisted for Contest #147 ⭐️
She holds her brother's sweaty hand tight as the credits fade. For a single breath, they sit in the void. Then the world is alight and reality resumes.Blinking, she stretches and looks around blearily. Faded grey seats of cheap foam; a metal bin overflowing with paper boxes and plastic cups; an overturned carton of popcorn, its contents strewn across the threadbare carpet; a neon green exit sign occasionally flickering. A sharp whiff of orange fizz from her brother’s half-finished soda. Undertones of stale popcorn, and the faint stink of unw...
Submitted to Contest #142
Grandad died before I understood how I felt about him.A week after he passed, my mother - no doubt grappling with her own demons of regret - left to me the task of sorting through his belongings. I sat in the cramped living room of a stranger and looked around helplessly. Grandad was more of an idea than a person. Others spoke of him as a decorated military man, later in life a successful investment banker par excellence. A widower, a single father and later a Grandad. Whether any of it was true mattered little. I never got to know...
Submitted to Contest #141
This was the beginning of a successful BreadTube career.To get the most views, my first video had to excite the audience. I dug out the old binder where Grandma wrote our family recipes in her meticulously neat handwriting. It opened straight to the scrambled eggs recipe. For a moment I was a bespectacled child again, smearing it with ranch and grinding copious amounts of salt and cayenne pepper on top. Yes, that was good. The scrambled eggs would do nicely.All the top submissions on BreadTube - the best video cooking site on the web - `had ...
Submitted to Contest #132
“Are you there, God? It’s me again,” I whisper, hands clasped. “I’m begging you this time. I really don’t want to go to Christchurch today. Please, can you find a way for me to stay? Or, you know, maybe Adie could move there too? Please. If you’re real, this is your last chance to prove it.”She nudges me in the ribs. “Sam, it’s a bit late for that.”We’re lying on soft grass by the riverbank, listening to the water rushing past like the summer that left us behind. Above us, branches and trembling leaves make fractals in the sky.I look over at...
Submitted to Contest #128
Lady Astor: “Winston, if I were your wife I’d put poison in your coffee.”Winston Churchill: “Nancy, if I were your husband I’d drink it.”Alison watched the powder dissolve into David’s tea with grim satisfaction. David liked his tea milky. He would never tell the difference.“How’s the tea?” he called from the other room.“On the way,” she shouted back. It was taking too long. She thrust a teaspoon into the mound of toxic grains and swirled it out of existence. Stirling silver clinked against bone china. She carefully put the spoon aside ...
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