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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021
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 #182
There’s a stain on my soul. It’s sticky, viscous, the colour of melting tar. And I can feel it spreading.On the surface, all is as it should be. The truck hums discordantly in my ears; my boots compress the pedals. The world flies past me in a dispassionate blur. Ahead, the skies and freeway are empty grey. The cargo remains silent.There’s no sensation like a stained soul. The closest I can think of is uncleanliness. Once, a woman left me and broke my heart, but even that is not comparable. That pain is dull now, smothered by the years spent...
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 #158
Today is my birthday, but I'm wearing a Halloween costume. It’s my first time as the bait.“Remember what we talked about, Kayla, dear,” Mum says, hugging me tight. “If they run you over, don’t scream.”Next to her, Dad nods. “Don’t make a sound. It’ll ruin the surprise, and more of ‘em will come. They’ll take you away. Do you want that to happen?”I sniff and shake my head, releasing a captive breath that plumes through the night air. Goosebumps pepper my bare arms. I can’t tell if they’re from cold or fear. We let silence wash over us as...
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 #151
My first question has an answer when Conejo arrives in the same beat-up Mazda we once kissed in. Fame has not changed him. The second question lasts until we lock eyes for the first time in two years. He still looks at me as if we’re alone in a crowded stadium.If there is a third, it floats away with my heart in the humid Barranquilla breeze.We are not talkers, me and Conejo. Even in childhood, we spoke little. There is only fútbol - a dance, a duel, and a heart-to-heart all in one. Words could not have brought us close enough.Once when...
Submitted to Contest #150
Content Warning: mentions of assisted dying. The couple sits across from me, her hand in his, and I ask myself if I have the strength to break their hearts. Her face hides nothing: tears already quiver, ready to fall no matter what I say. His fist rests on a rapidly bouncing knee.I tear my eyes away from the screen.“I’m so sorry. There is an incredibly high demand for fertility treatment. You aren’t eligible.”What comes next is painful enough, but not for the first time, it strikes me that I’m more than just another stranger in their lives. ...
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...
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