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Susie Bennett

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025

Stories (34)

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Library

14 Followers

18 Following

34 Stories

490 karma pts

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Wanderlust

The salt spray stung Juliana's face as she clung to the railing of the "Wanderlust," a fishing trawler that had seen better days. The rhythmic creak of the old wood and the endless expanse of the grey sea were her only companions. For the past year, the ocean had become her refuge, a vast, silent canvas reflecting the turmoil within.Juliana hadn't always been silent. Once, her voice had been a bright spark, a melodic thread woven into the tapestry of her life. She had been a storyteller, a performer, a teacher who captivated children with fa...

0 likes

Forge of Dragons

The wind howled a mournful dirge through the jagged peaks of the Dragon’s Tooth Mountains, a chilling counterpoint to the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel echoing from within the Forge of Dragons. Mary, her face grimy with soot and her muscles screaming in protest, raised the hammer once more. Sparks flew as it met the glowing ingot on the anvil, each striking a spark of hope in the encroaching darkness.Generations of her family had tended this forge, a sacred place nestled deep within the treacherous mountains. It wasn't just any forge; le...

0 likes

Memory, loss, and finding beauty in unexpected places.

Submitted to Contest #294

Okay, here’s a story in the form of letters, playing with themes of memory, loss, and finding beauty in unexpected places. Letter 1:Dearest Amelia,I hope this letter finds you well, or at least as well as can be expected. It feels strange, writing to you after all this time. Decades, isn’t it? Since our last hurried goodbye at the train station, smoke has swirled around us like a melancholic waltz.I'm writing from the Isle of Skye. You remember how we used to dream of visiting, poring over photographs of jagged mountains and misty lochs, pro...

19 likes

Celestial Airways

Submitted to Contest #293

The departure lounge throbbed with the nervous energy of a thousand dreams about to take flight. Bill, clutching his well-worn copy of "his favourite newspaper," felt strangely detached from the pre-flight bustle. He wasn't going on holiday, a business trip, or to visit family. He was going somewhere else.The ticket in his hand, crisp and white against her trembling fingers, confirmed it. "Celestial Airways: One-Way Passage to the Elysian Fields." It sounded like a luxury vacation package, but Bill knew better. This was a one-way ticket...

4 likes

This is the valley of Whispering Stones

Submitted to Contest #293

Please close your eyes for a moment. Truly, shut them tight, and let me guide you through a world you can’t see but can feel, hear, and perhaps even taste. This is the valley of Whispering Stones, and I want you to experience it as vividly as if the sun were warming your face.Imagine first the air. It's thick, not heavy, but laden with the scent of sun-baked earth and wild thyme. The wind carries a sweetness that clings to the back of your throat, a hint of wild berries ripening on thorny bushes. In the early mornings, a damp coolness rises ...

3 likes

The Whispers of Grey: A Story in a World Devoid of Colour

Submitted to Contest #292

The world used to sing, I'm told. Not literally, of course, but in a symphony of vibrant hues. Emerald forests swayed to the rhythm of sapphire rivers under a sky that bled from cerulean to fiery sunset. Or so the stories say. Now, the only song is the rustle of grey dust devils across the plains, the murmur of grey wind through the skeletal branches of grey trees, and the echoing silence of a world leached of its soul.I am Elara, and I live in a time of Grey. It’s not a metaphor; it's the stark reality that has consumed everything. No one k...

2 likes

Mysterious Painting

Submitted to Contest #292

The dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the gloom of the Curio Emporium. Elara coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. The air in the antique shop was thick with the scent of beeswax, old paper, and something vaguely…funereal. She loved it.Her gaze swept across the shelves overflowing with chipped porcelain dolls, tarnished silver snuffboxes, and first edition spellbooks with brittle spines. She was on the hunt for something unique, something that whispered of untold stories and forgotten magic. Something w...

11 likes

love without the word!!!!!!

Submitted to Contest #290

The salt spray kissed Elara's face as she leaned against the weathered railing of the ferry, the familiar tang a comfort. Ocracoke Island was her sanctuary, a place where the relentless churn of the world seemed to slow, measured by the rhythm of the tides and the cries of gulls. Every summer since she was a child, she’d made the pilgrimage, escaping the stifling heat of Charlotte and the even more stifling expectations that came with it.This year, though, felt different. This year, Leo was waiting.She first saw him mending nets on the docks...

6 likes

The Scent of Old Paper and New Beginnings

Submitted to Contest #290

The bell above the door of "Pages & Parchment" tinkled merrily, a sound Amelia had come to associate with the comforting rhythm of her life. It wasn't a grand, sweeping symphony, but a gentle melody of turning pages, hushed whispers, and the subtle scent of aged paper—a fragrance more intoxicating to her than any perfume. At 42, Amelia had found solace and purpose within the overflowing shelves of this independent bookshop, a refuge from the whirlwind of a life that hadn't quite unfolded as she'd envisioned.She straightened, tucking a st...

18 likes

The Shattered Illusion: John’s Journey to Truth

Submitted to Contest #289

John Thompson had always prided himself on being a rational thinker. A scientist by profession, he dedicated his career to unravelling nature’s mysteries through meticulous research. The cornerstone of his life was a deeply held belief: that the universe operated according to a predictable set of laws, governed by logic and empirical evidence. However, a recent discovery began to unravel everything he thought he knew.It all started with an innocuous coffee break at the university. Gathered around the table with colleagues, conversations flit...

5 likes

The November Indigo

The city was draped in a November indigo that settled deep in the bones, a colour Ashley knew intimately. It mirrored the ache in her chest, the perpetual twilight of her own interior landscape. It wasn't the dramatic, weeping grey of a full-blown storm or the crisp, clean azure of a promising spring. No, it was a flat, oppressive indigo, the kind that sucked the light from everything, leaving only a muted, colourless residue.Ashley stood at her kitchen window, the condensation blurring the already bleak view. Opposite her, the skeletal bran...

0 likes

The Room is Unfamiliar. I Don't Know How I Got Here.

Submitted to Contest #289

The first thing that hits you is the disquieting silence. Not a comforting quietude, but a heavy, oppressive hush that seems to cling to the air, muffling all sound. Then, the light. It’s not harsh, but diffused and unsettling, emanating from an unseen source, casting long, ambiguous shadows that dance on the walls of the unfamiliar room. You are lying on a bed, the sheets strangely cool against your skin. And then, the thought, sharp and insistent, claws its way to the forefront of your mind: I don't know how I got here.Panic, cold and...

17 likes

The Azure Tempest

Submitted to Contest #288

Alyson lived in a coastal village nestled between the jagged teeth of the Dragon’s Spine mountains and the restless embrace of the Azure Sea. The villagers, seasoned by generations of living at the mercy of the elements, were well-versed in the language of the sky. They knew a gentle, sun-kissed morning promised a good catch, while bruise-coloured clouds whispered of a coming squall. But no one, not even the oldest among them, had ever seen the weather behave quite as it did with Alyson.From the day she was born, the sky seemed to reflect he...

16 likes

Emotions run free

Submitted to Contest #287

The chipped porcelain mug warmed Elara’s hands, but the tea inside remained untouched, a stagnant pool reflecting the weak morning light filtering through her kitchen window. It was a Sunday, the kind that usually promised lazy comfort, but today, a storm brewed within her, one she knew couldn't be contained any longer. She’d tried, for months, to play the good soldier, the calm professional, the ever-supportive friend. But the weight had become too crushing, the silence too deafening. Elara, a graphic designer known for her vibrant creation...

5 likes

A cherished heirloom that has journeyed through multiple generations

Submitted to Contest #286

The old wooden chest sat in the attic, a silent sentinel amidst the discarded treasures and forgotten memories of generations past. Its dark, polished surface, though scratched and worn, still held a gleam that whispered of age and secrets. For as long as Elara could remember, the chest had been an enigma, a fixture in her grandmother’s house, a solid, immovable presence that both intimidated and intrigued her.Elara’s grandmother, Agnes, was a woman of few words, her face an intricate map of wrinkles etched by time and experience. Yet, when ...

3 likes