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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2025
Submitted to Contest #323
I wake to the ghost of the track: sweat, turf, the echo my muscles still expect to chase. Rain works the window , patient and deliberate. The alarm shivers until my palm quiets it. In the gray light, the ceiling lines blur into lanes, and somewhere inside me the body flinches for a starter's pistol no one fires anymore. The blade leans patiently against the nightstand. Sometimes the rain still carries the ghost-smell of rubber and smoke, the scent of the crash baked into the weather. I listen first: rain drumming like a crowd that forgot my ...
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