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Sofia Palmerston

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2024

Stories (4)

Comments

Library

4 Followers

8 Following

4 Stories

59 karma pts

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At Dinner: The Scent of Rosemary and Regret

Sofia Palmerston

Submitted to Contest #270

Samantha’s rental apartment, was a haven of personal touches and warm colors. Usually, it hummed with the anticipation of intimate dinners and whispered conversations, the soft glow of candlelight dancing on the mismatched china she’d collected over the years. Tonight, however, the air crackled with a tension thicker than the rosemary and garlic scent clinging to the faded floral curtains.David shifted in his chair, the worn wood groaning beneath him like an old man complaining about a long day. He swirled the expensive Cabernet Avignon in h...

15 likes

The Librarian

Sofia Palmerston

**In the tapestry of life, there are moments that shift our course, alter our perceptions, and reshape our destinies. For Eleanor Vance, a woman of quiet routine and predictable days, such a moment arrived in the most unassuming way on an otherwise ordinary day.**Eleanor, a librarian by profession, was a creature of habit. Her world revolved around the Dewey Decimal System, the comforting scent of old books, and the soft quietness of library halls. Long skirts paired with gray or brown cardigans over neatly tucked-in blouses made up her typi...

1 like

The Storm

Sofia Palmerston

Submitted to Contest #268

Sofia and Valentina were inseparable best friends, living in a bustling city in Northern Italy. Urban life was rich with opportunities for the teenage girls, and they spent almost every day exploring the city, discovering quaint cafes, and daydreaming about the future. Today was no exception; they planned to visit a charming bookstore in the town center. As they were just outside Sofia’s apartment, the sky began to darken, and drops of rain started to fall. Sofia glanced up at the swirling clouds. “I think I need my umbrella,” sh...

8 likes

The Writer's Curse

Sofia Palmerston

Submitted to Contest #266

Viktor Petrov, a fifty-two-year-old author, sat at his desk, the worn leather chair groaning under his weight. He was of average height, but years spent writing had ruined his posture, making him appear shorter. Viktor didn’t care how he looked; all that mattered to him was his work. His blond hair was messy, his blue eyes hidden behind glasses, and his once soft, pale skin had grown dry and weathered. His latest novel, a dystopian thriller, was nowhere near completion. The deadline loomed, and his publisher couldn’t hold his spot any longer...

5 likes