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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020
Submitted to Contest #81
There was a certain stigma which circulated around first dates; they were destined to be awkward, manufactured, uncomfortable. The purpose of first dates, really, was so that middle-aged married couples would have an anecdote to chuckle about later on. As she lit one candle using the flame of another, Elaine refused to let such stereotypes tarnish her evening. She'd seldom given in to the silly traditions of Valentine's Day, the romanticized ideas that the fourteenth of February would unquestionably unite two hearts, et cetera, et cet...
Submitted to Contest #43
I wanted to be your everything. It was as simple, and as complicated as that.When I held you in my arms in that fateful moment, for the very first time, you didn't wail or shriek or cry like every other newborn in the hospital that day did. When I wrapped my fingers around yours, your tiny, warm hand didn't clutch mine back. You pulled away. When you looked up at me, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I searched your eyes, the same pale blue as mine, for anything I could hold onto. Maybe that was where it began. Or maybe it was...
Submitted to Contest #31
Where did flowers go, after they wilted and dried up? Did their decomposing stems stay there, as if holding onto hope that they weren't actually dead?The sunlight felt strangely chilly against Abigail's face. Her feet in their sneakers connected with the solid earthy ground. Abigail was fascinated by the steady nature of the Earth. It was always there, beneath her feet, when it seemed as though everything else was being yanked out from under her.It was early morning, and the air smelled like wind and rain and those other things that didn't h...
Submitted to Contest #29
I had a best friend. Best friends braid each other's hair, make friendship bracelets, bake cookies, and stay up all night spilling juicy secrets with each other. And me? I'm spending my Sunday having quality time with my best friend. At the Common Burying Ground. Sitting by her grave. Martha Green taps my shoulder. "Hey, sweetie." I turn around to face her, along with Mr. Green and Danny. Their faces are white and sickly, their arms veiny, "Hi, Mrs. Green. I-I should go." It feels awkward to be intruding o...
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