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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
At seven years and four months, Sadie watched Snow White. She’d watched it at five, too. But it had scared her and she’d had to turn it off. But now she was seven. She was a big girl, and she was brave. Nothing could bother her. Despite Sadie’s protests, her mom stopped the movie an hour in when the cat jumped on the table and Sadie screamed. She didn’t sleep that night. The lock held.
The car pulled up to the South Building in relative silence, the only sound that of the silence itself. The headlights pierced the brown brick wall before making their way through a copse of trees, where they relinquished. When the engine petered out, and no one moved, the silence grew ever louder. Shy little Catherine’s going on a date? It was the sound of the meanest words circling Ca...
“Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty!” Adeline’s high tops tiptoed along the log above the small creek.. She knew she wasn’t supposed to use it, but she’d done it dozens of times before. Besides, detouring all the way to the bridge would take up valuable time that she could use to find Peter. He could be anywhere in the forest. Her foot snapped a twig as she stepped onto the bank, and she cursed to herself...
Jamie couldn't remember where the photograph came from.She had found it again in the middle of the night, and now gazed upon it with tired eyes that quickly blurred at the sight. She stared down at the picture of herself, tired, tattered, and worn, holding a newborn baby in her arms. It was candid: a breathtaking view of a mother looking down at her child for the first time. There was a deep love in her eyes. An indescribable spark of existential joy.Jamie didn’t remember how she had kept an old copy folded in her nightstand...
Sunbeams flicker over my eyes through the leaves of the apple tree. They catch eight-year-old Peter’s blond locks scattered over my stomach, and my small body shakes with laughter that I cannot hear. After a few moments, my backyard seems to disintegrate like a painting aflame.Nearly complete darkness replaces the sunny exterior, its fullness augmented by the twenty-something fifth graders sitting quietly in the blackness. A school lockdown drill. Peter and I are hunched under the teacher’s desk, all squished together. He whispers ...
Of the many punishments Mrs. Castello had creatively conjured to cure her insolence, sorting through the family’s attic was the one Clara disliked the least. It was laden with family memories and artifacts from the last fifty-six years, from old journals to photo albums: secrets and stories waiting to be discovered in every pen swish and pose. However, her newest attic discovery was about to become the most ...
I do not exist.Well, I exist in my window. In my reflection, I am rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. My hair is sunshine, not hay.In reality, I am but a shadow of myself. The shadow she left behind.Magdalene.I always told her that her name was beautiful. Why wouldn’t she let people use it?“It’s a silly little name, Luna. It’s not meant to be used,” she would always say. But why would a name not be for using? If any name is not for using it is mine.I think my mother was mad (but don’t tell my father). I...
Authors note: You will notice that there are spelling errors and sloppy writing throughout the beginning of this story. However, this was purposeful, as to imitate how these children would write. Enjoy!---So was carved, on the fifteenth day of July, of the year 1941, into The Outstanding Elm of Barrymore Park:A.J.LWednesday July 16th, 1941, The Outstanding Elm of Barrymore Park, Toronto ONHello AJLFriday July 18th, 1941, The Outstanding Elm of Barrymo...
When Tristan Stellan had tapped on my window, I had expected something much more illegal. Nevertheless, I was not disappointed. “You like it?” Here we are, dangerously out of breath, bodies heaving on the street, staring upside down at the Spring Festival in all its glory. Perhaps not all of it, lights down and all, but the dark intrigue more than makes up for them. It all stands there, silent and inviti...
It was her protection. It was her fear. It was her screams, and it was her safety. It was sky blue, unyielding, and it hid her lower features. The water still ran in the sink when Joelle looked up in the mirror. Her fingertips dripped soap. She was frozen, impossibly mid-moment. Her stomach dropped when she knew. Now? Why now? On her seventeenth birthday. On the anniversary. But it was indeed, for some ...
Two sets of spiritually identical irises met through a window meant for watching and over snow meant for crunching. One pair pale green, like a field of healthy wheat. The other, the specific shade of rich, moist soil. Across the void, a pulse of lightning moved. Familiar, and yet poisoned light. The electricity too strong for any eye to hold on to, the collision of gazes became its own collapse...
Empty. My apartment is empty. Anyone with a soul can see past the dreadful mess everywhere, sticky notes and old socks and books scattered about, to the emptiness. Somehow, when I remember how very full it was a year ago, it seems even more empty. Last Christmas Eve’s ghosts hover over every air particle, sucking away all the happiness I once had. No, not happiness. Forced contentment. Fillers. Woosh. When I turn at the waist, twisting my sp...
Oh. There she is. Standing face to face with Eric is a wide-eyed and snowy-faced girl, her shape hindered by a black graduation robe. He had been about to go looking for his girlfriend, to look all through the lawns and domineering building. Eric knew she didn’t want to be found, but that was exactly why he had t...
A long blink. A steadying breath. Sweaty palms. “Can I tell you a secret?” “‘Course. What’s up?” Diana doesn’t take her eyes off the movie. “D’you remember Dylan Jameson?” Diana looks startled. Lucy knows that saying his name is like flicking a switch in her brain from light blue to thick grey. ...
“Start from the beginning.”I sigh and turn back the needle of time to… what time was it? I almost chuckle. I was so desperately watching the clock tick by and now I can barely remember what it said. Nine o’clock, I think. I try to remember everything exactly as it was. Any small detail could help, could be the distant tapping sound or the odd stain on a shirt or the scrap of paper that cracks open the case. I know that. I’ve read the books.“It happene...
"It was unbearable but she had to bear it." Maggie Stiefvater in "The Dream Thieves"
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