Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (11)

11 Stories

633 karma pts

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“The Memory Letter” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #106

TW: Suicide. Dear Chris, I’ll never forget the day we met, not even when death himself tries to wrench the memory from my stiff hands. Twelfth-grade calculus, third period. In full honesty, I’m not completely sure why I remember the day so well. Perhaps it was the way you smiled when we were paired. A small, courteous smile full of wires and metal. Ah, the braces. I remember how much you hated them. Every smile was lip-tight and careful, anxious embarrassment hiding the way your face lights up when you truly grin. Even in those days of awkwa...

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“Blood Brighter Than Wine” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #104

TW: Graphic murder and recollections of violence. She was staring at the mirror, observing her finely-tuned features, when the phone rang. The quiet vibration caused her head to turn, curious as to who could be texting at this hour. She picked up the phone, cold brown eyes reading the message distantly. Sure enough, it was Leola. Are you coming tonight? The black text read, glowing against the comparably dark room. Another message arrived, the device sending a second vibration through her arm. Cara told me Brandon’s there...

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“Flower Stems” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #101

The flowers’ stems broke as they fell from her hands. The delicate petals fell, colors kissing the soft lilting grasses of the plain. Another time, she might have stopped to grab them, brushing off the dirt and laughing about loose grips. But now, her darting eyes followed her newest friend, the girl with the sun-kissed cheeks and an eggplant-purple oversized dress. She would certainly grow into it with age, the girl’s parents said. The pair’s youth was a clouded lens, hiding the children from the worries of money. To the sharp-eyed adults, ...

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“Death’s Final Meal” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #100

TW: Suicide. The day was bright, and slivers of the rising sun peeked through the dirty glass window. The clouds parted, filling the room with gorgeous dawn. Shadows slowly crept back, easing over her meager breakfast. She stared at the food remorsefully, not hungry enough to eat. Ironically, the light stopped at the edge of the table, just before reaching Brie. If it hadn’t hurt so much, she might have laughed at the irony. She was truly a cursed woman, a woman of shadows. The cancer had spread quickly, ensnaring her in its deadly trap befo...

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“The Power of Memory” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #99

The car rolls smoothly on the empty road, heat stuffing the car despite the attempts of the whining air conditioning. My crayon makes quiet scratches on the tan-colored paper, watching the hours fly by. Asher’s driving, quietly humming music to himself and tapping his wedding band on the steering wheel as we pass the rainy landscape.“Whatcha drawin?” asks Zach, leaning towards me from the backseat. Smiling, I twist away so he can’t see.“You’ll see in a little while. What about you, bud?” I ask. He holds up his work with a gap-toothed grin.“I...

13 comments 13
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“The Unfortunate Pair” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #97

TW: Horror, seizure-like behavior, blood, and gore.The eighth grade school day was sweltering hot, and James was fast asleep on his desk. Even in sleep, he muttered unintelligibly, fingers twitching and brow furrowing. His teacher didn’t bother to wake him, fearing the behavior that would surely ensue. James was a strange child, and was often the victim of relentless bullying and teasing. The mutterings grew louder, until some of his fellow classmates shot him nervous sideways glances. He had been diagnosed with Schizophrenia at a very young...

14 comments 14
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“The Masterpiece” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #96

TW: PTSD, suicidal thoughts. The bedroom is white. Empty, lonely, and white. The color of absence. I hate it. Have you ever felt alone? I certainly do, even as Winnie walks in, her maroon sweater sharply contrasting against the stifling walls. “How are you?” She asks softly. I clench my fists.  She doesn’t understand. They never understand. I don’t need her hospitality. I don’t need the people and their sympathetic apologies. I don’t need the white walls as they stare, shifting into the walls of the hospital, echoing the horrid beeps ...

6 comments 6
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“The World on Fire” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #95

TW: Graphic violence, gun violence.The two of us stand together in a the living room of an abandoned house. Looking around, I take in our surroundings. It has incredibly ugly wallpaper, lime green with faded cream white starbursts. The fuzzy carpet is just as grotesque, the bright color mixed with dirt and debris from months of disuse. There’s a small wooden table, a bookshelf, two chairs, and a dusty old record player. Shuffling quietly around the room, we shut the blinds, hoping to keep out any intruders or hunters. The room sits in heavy ...

5 comments 5
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“The End of an Adventure and the Beginning of a Legacy” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #94

She was traveling with a blasted hunk of a man, his weight on the opposite side of the carriage seemingly making them crawl at a slower pace, if that was even possible. She drew her satin cloak more tightly around her, annoyed. They were both part of the Ansatsusha Union, or the Assassin's Union in English. She was the top assassin of the Union, and always worked alone. This mission was annoyingly different, however. The Silver Crane, the mysterious head of the Union, had insisted that she was to be accompanied by another assassin. That ‘ass...

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“The Color of Joy” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #93

The scratchy purr of the car’s engine traces a pewter grey squiggle across my vision. I sigh, a soft yellow burst of boredom, and trace the squiggle with the tip of my pinkie finger.“We’ve been driving for hours,” I complain, my voice a sage green in the corner of my eye. “Are we there yet?” Glancing at my worn Converse, I tap out a short, soothing rhythm with my foot. The pattern leaves star-shaped mauve patterns on my otherwise plain shoes.“Almost there, only a half hour left. And stop tapping,” she says, glancing at my jittery feet in the...

11 comments 11
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“A Glimpse of the Stars” by Silver Pen: Temporarily Inactive

Submitted to Contest #92

TW: Violence and graphic descriptions. She wheezed, dust gathering into her lungs as she dragged her pickax through the desolate mines. Sweat ran down her face in streams, tracing rivers through the sticky coal. She despised the mines. It was 2200, and people deemed worthless as she was were doomed to the sweltering, poorly lit mines to work until death. Rations were based on pounds of coal mined. She forced herself to drag her ax down the rusted metal tracks, the screeching grate of metal on metal echoing throughout the tunnel. Despite the...

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Author bio

TEMPORARILY INACTIVE Hello! I'm Silver Pen, a reader and a writer. Any feedback is appreciated! Also, feel free to ask me to read your stories! I try to stop by people's pages as often as possible. Happy reading! - Silver