Suri Marotta

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022

Stories (15)

15 Stories

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“A Bowl of Cherries ” by Suri Marotta

My name is Lina Jimenez.  I’m in the eighth grade and I'm a Quiet Kid.   Quiet Kids, if you didn’t know, have the most to say, but no voice. They’re confined in a tight box with nowhere to run.  At least they’re better than Loud Kids. Loud Kids have the perpetual limelight. They’re the main characters in every movie you watch. Even teachers pay special attention to Loud Kids; either because they're cardinal troublemakers or because Loud Kids just attract attention.  Me? I’m a bully magnet; I attract all the bullies, ...

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“A Wolfish Romance ” by Suri Marotta

Pitbulls. That’s what the park was full of. Great big, terrifying beasts. Everything from their tongues to their nails gave me shivers. Animals, in general, scared me. They were unpredictable in a way that made me hesitate to approach them. When I was young, I was shy, but curious. One day, my brother brought me to the park and I wanted to pet this huge, furry poodle that trotted by. But when it came close, it bit me with all the force in its jaw. I screamed so loudly, Georgie had to break away mid-kiss with his then girlfrien...

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“Principal Words ” by Suri Marotta

There were clouds on the horizon for Sunville Elementary School.  The day that the clouds appeared was gloomy and depressing, as opposed to the bright name of the school. Children from all walks of life moved from class to class, following the repetitive tolling of their schoolbell. Any outsider would’ve seen a normal, inclusive school with normal, happy children. Only an insider, a student or a teacher perhaps, would know what truly lurked behind those smiling faces.  *** It’s my second period, history. My mind swirls with tho...

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“A Choice in Fate ” by Suri Marotta

A Choice in Fate Welcome to Ever After, a land where all your choices have been chosen for you.  My name is the Fairy Godmother.  But, please, just call me Fara. That’s what my family called me before I became a Fairy, anyway. See, from birth, my future was already predetermined.  After twenty hours of strenuous labor, my mother gave life to me. Within five minutes of my birth—while the midwife was still cutting my umbilical cord—the Fates appeared.  “Your daughter,” they said, “will be the next Kind and Generous On...

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“A Leap of Faith” by Suri Marotta

A Leap of Faith If.  I wake up in an ice-cold bed alone.  I wince at the sunlight filtering into my apartment.  Normally, I’d soak up the sunshine with Shawn under the warm covers, but after last night, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy that again.  The sunlight is just another reminder of my unforgivable mistake.  My ears still ring from the shouts we exchanged last night.  I hate you.  Liar.  Cheater!  I sigh, swinging my bare feet onto the cold hardwood floor of my bedroom.  I refus...

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“Silent Voices” by Suri Marotta

Silent Voices “They killed Arvin yesterday.”  “I . . . I’m so sorry, Mari.” “Don’t be sorry for me, be sorry for his family. They lost the best damn activist in the world.”  “But, how? It was a peaceful protest. All about sustainability and ecological footprint, right? The police have no right to open fire if there’s no immediate threat.” “That hasn’t stopped them in the past.” “I suppose not.”  “Who knows, maybe I’m next.” “Don’t say that, Mari. I couldn’t stand to lose my best friend.” “You would still have Rose a...

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““Dear Mom, Your Story Sucks.” ” by Suri Marotta

“Dear Mom, Your Story Sucks.”   It was a dark and stormy night and the children were screaming.  It was Friday—both John and I had Fridays off. Tonight, we expected pizza-stained cheeks, cuddles, and Harry Potter—not blood-curdling screaming and crying.  While John continued snoring, I dragged myself out of the guest bedroom, down the hall, and into the kids’ joint bedroom.  When I entered, eight-year-old Marvin and five-year-old Jane were sitting cross-legged in Marvin’s twin bed, red-eyed and terrified.  ...

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“Bruises” by Suri Marotta

Bruises Once upon a time, there lived an apple named Aubrey and an orange named Octavia. They resided in a farm named “Jack’s Farm” located in the centre of Canada, amongst freezing rain and frosty winter nights.  Aubrey belonged to the mighty Rosaceae family, which fared extremely well in the cold Canadian climate. Meanwhile, Octavia descended from the Citrus family who preferred warmer weather.  The world was changing though. Temperatures were averaging 35° in Canada, drawing dozens of Citruses—lemons, grapefruits, pomelos—to ...

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“The Whizz ” by Suri Marotta

The Whizz  I could spell schadenfreude, asphyxiation, and supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but I couldn’t spell friendship.  It was true. “Friendship” wasn’t a word in my vocabulary. In all my thirteen years of life, I’d never had a friend, nor did I have the time for one.  It wouldn’t hurt to acquire one, but amidst academics, spelling bees, and studying, it was unreservedly inconceivable.  That was the sole thing I begrudged my parents for.  I was resplendent while others faltered at Wong family get-togethe...

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“Jack of All Trades ” by Suri Marotta

Jack of All Trades  My name is Jill Ossy and God has never dealt me a good hand of cards.  Standing outside my exemplary picket-fenced house, I wonder if my parents really know who Marjorie is.  Do they know she flits past boyfriends faster than a cheetah? Flunks her maths exams?   Gets high on marijuana behind the bleachers?  No, of course, they don’t. Marjorie can only be one thing in their eyes: perfect.  And I? After seven hours of strenuous school, I practice ballet and work at my part-time job in th...

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“The Crapper ” by Suri Marotta

The Crapper The twenty-first century was truly something. Economic booms, terrorist-attacks, civil wars, pandemics, consumerism, and climate change. FIFA, EGOT, streaming services, rovers on Mars, and the Internet. Sometimes, I thought, there needs to be a pause button—a moment of peace amidst this sea of activity. My life was standard, if a bit dull, alone in my Haussmann apartment. At least I had a picturesque view of the Eiffel Tower, a stable job, and an ami, albeit a much older one. Yes, my old friend,...

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“The Little Greedy Girl ” by Suri Marotta

The Little Greedy Girl  It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark.  Beside the annual Inglesburg Christmas Tree stood a petite, sweet-faced girl of eight years named Avery Oda Bertram. The townspeople called her Little Match Girl, but for no apparent reason.  In her hand, she shook a tin cup no bigger than a mouse. Her rosy cheeks contrasted her blue smock while her eyes glowed with excited fervor.  Avery loved Inglesburg.  When the wealthy of London migrated to the countryside, they brou...

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“Go” by Suri Marotta

GO June 20th 2022 The sun never shined brighter than it did on Mike and Annelise. What a star couple. No one could tear the two childhood sweethearts away from each other.  “Mike, come back here! Just touch it!” Lis giggled, chasing Mike with a worm. Her stubby five-year-old legs couldn’t take her very far and Mike, being older, had an advantage. Mike laughed, turning away from the fresh pink insect. “Eww! No!” “Oh, fineee! If you don’t want to, go,” Lis whined, then she spun around and with the worm in his face.  He jumped ba...

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“A Stone Set Alight” by Suri Marotta

PROLOGUE:“You have brought the death of Earth upon yourself.” I yelled to the people of Minutia. I brought my fist down. The impact of it - knuckles meeting Earth - shattered life. The end of the world was here. YESTERDAY: “What’d you get for question sixteen?” someone whined from behind me. “I studied all month, but I still drew a blank!” They stomped their feet on the marble floors. A foolish choice since it’s known that Oakwood High has an indestructible structure. “I know, right? It’s so hard!” that person’s best frie...

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“Secret Scars” by Suri Marotta

PROLOGUE: Scars are tricky. They’re terribly ugly. Unlike most ugly things, they don’t ever go away. If you accidentally cut your bangs too short, the hair will grow back. But scars are something you carry all the way until death. “You can never get rid of scars.” That was Katherine O’Dare’s motto.  Blood slid down the ceiling of a tiny living room, pooling around her feet. A fetid smell came from a paltry, yellow loveseat tucked in the corner. Parallel to the loveseat was a shattered flower pot, a single brown rose amongst a plethora...

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Author bio

"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them." — Maya Angelou