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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020
Submitted to Contest #190
There is a black metal door standing alone in the mist. The sound from within makes the stones tremble at her feet. Insects scuttle away and under her boots. The grass is already dead. Her heart is tight and hard like a fruit. Ready to burst, ready to pour out of her chest and leak from her skin. She should not have come–not without telling anyone. She didn’t even leave a note. If she never comes back, they might wonder. They might search. But what will they find? She takes one last look behind her. The wheatfields. The...
Shortlisted for Contest #135 ⭐️
When the giant sea spider swallowed the entire town of Cobble, it was decided that something should be done about it. Flee, the next town over and slightly higher up, had watched the unfortunate event from their balconies and terraces, very pale and very shaky, and also very quiet—in case the sea spider decided to look up and think about dessert. But lucky for the town of Flee, the sea spider had poor vision. He was old—old as the sea in which he inhabited—and every century or so felt peckish for a town or two, depending on his appetite....
Submitted to Contest #124
The last person Brett would have liked to go on vacation with was his wife. But, as she tended to remind him, they were reaching their twentieth anniversary and he’d had more than sufficient time to ‘pack his bags and take off without a note like a fucking coward.’ She was right, of course. Brett had not packed so much as a set of nail clippers when his wife, overshadowing the bedroom door and watching him coolly, radiating unbelievable powers of silent scorn caused him to zip up the suitcase and stow it under the bed before his insi...
Submitted to Contest #121
“Thanks a lot.” “Of course,” the bot replies with a tilt of its blank, feature-less face. “We aim to make our Sleepers comfortable.” Kora sips the glass of blackberry water offered and shudders as she glances out the glass wall to the seventy story drop. Silver buildings crowd the crossword of streets, huddling against one another for warmth. The river crawls between, lazy and black, a sheen of ice sweating on the surface. White air buses hover in the air like frozen coughs. An endless winter, a long and sunless scream, encapsules the city o...
Submitted to Contest #105
He watches the man and woman reach for each other’s hands as their favorite song lures them to the dance floor. She, whispering in the man’s ear as his hand slides down her back. He, head thrown back, laughing as the woman spins him awkwardly. They’re terrible dancers. Even he, standing in the dark corner of the club with his hand in a deathlike grip around his vodka soda, can hardly bear to watch them, their arms and legs and hips moving to a private beat no one can hear. But he also can’t look away. He gives them a thumbs up and a grin whe...
Shortlisted for Contest #102 ⭐️
Each evening, the old woman put a box on her doorstep. The next morning, the box was gone.Gene and Cynthia watched from the attic window, because the attic was really the only place with a broad view of the neighbor’s property. The silver sky faded to black as night set in, shadows sprawling across the overgrown grass and weed infested sidewalk.“Do you think she’s a spy?” Gene asked Cynthia, squinting his face so that his freckles bunched up inside his cheeks. One of his glasses, perched precariously on his nose, had a crack from the last ti...
Submitted to Contest #100
“Have you heard dad’s new album?” Kate smiled stiffly at her brother from across the white granite island as she took a sip of her champagne, her mouth instantly infused with bitterness. “You know I didn’t.” Jason looked at her, bemused. “Why not? It’s your kind of music.” Kate studied him—the boy who considered himself a man now just because he wore cologne and suits instead of lounge pants and jerseys. Just because he’d finally moved out of mom’s and into a north facing high rise. Just because his floor to ceiling bedroom windows showcased...
Submitted to Contest #97
“We kill them in the morning.” The woman let the lace curtain fall back across the window, obscuring the view of the family waving before climbing onto their horses. Finally. The sky had turned from indigo to the black of leather, a red moon settling over the plains. “I thought we weren’t going to do that anymore,” answered the man. He sat on the edge of the bed, his boots still on, his travel dust flecking the checkered coverlet. He pulled his head from his hands. She was momentarily taken aback by how old he looked and she had t...
Submitted to Contest #94
It was the end of the world and Angela wanted to brush her teeth. “It’s just like, I can’t cope with dirty teeth,” she stated as she marched down the supermarket aisle ahead of me, always walking too fast, with her big steps and long legs. “Angela,” I hissed after her. “Wait.” But there was no waiting when it came to what Angela wanted. It didn’t matter that the supermarket was eerily silent and deserted except for the crackling loudspeaker, that the tube lights hung from leaking ceiling tiles, that the shopping carts stood hal...
Submitted to Contest #93
There was a body on the table. They stared at it—at the heavy hair-sprayed pink curls and the smudged mascara and the tiny crop top that showed off a belly button piercing (did people still get belly button piercings? Never mind the piercing, she was dead) . Sixteen, maybe. Or younger. Anyway she was too young to be here. That’s what they were all thinking. Someone’s niece who’d hidden in the back of the car. Someone’s little sister who’d sneaked in the bathroom window. But no one claimed her. Not even when they turned down the volume and ...
Submitted to Contest #88
She lives in a tree now. It’s the only place left where she can get some peace and quiet. The windows of the little houses in the neighborhood wink and blink and flutter at her, their blinds opening and closing every time she walks past. Every time she bikes by. She is never alone. Even after Jed left and she thought she was going to have long silent hours to write, long hours alone with the noise in her head, with the words cramping her hand as she tried to keep up with her imagination. The words making her fingers stiff with pr...
Submitted to Contest #82
He picks up the bag they drop off for him each day. A tuna sandwich. A thermos of coffee. A yellow apple. It’s always the same. It doesn’t matter—he has no taste buds. It will all filter into a storage bank he'll just have to empty out later under the bridge when no one is looking. Two Four Seven, you have one hour to complete your assignment. He’s better at blending in since the update. Better at looking normal. Except for last week when the little girl asked him why he walked funny, or that time the park’s resident homeless man threw ...
Submitted to Contest #80
In honor of the victims of the Tlatelolco massacre, 1972, Mexico City You see your pale, wrinkled hands folded over a long white rose. You see shadows hovering around you. They are whispering as though you are sleeping, as though they do not want to disturb you. As though they are not about to bury you. A child shakes you and calls you Abuelo. A woman touches your cheek. My Love, she says. You could have lived a thousand lives, but this is the one you choose. This is the ending you imagine—your body resting in a hand-carved wooden case w...
Submitted to Contest #78
You’ve never been great at meeting women. You’re no better at it now. You shouldn’t have come. You’re tired of being pushed into doing things you hate doing. Still, you try. Mostly, for them—your friends who care about you. Mostly, you just don’t want to end up like one of those guys who games all day and wears plaid and stops combing his beard. Get out more. Be friendly. Be yourself. You’ve gotten so much advice at this point you don’t know which one to hold onto, what to do first and when. You sip your beer. It’s confusing. You never ne...
Submitted to Contest #77
Why did I have to volunteer for everything? Stupid. I am stupid. It’s all Austin’s fault. Beautiful, dark-horse, bed-head Austin—totally untouchable, utterly un-haveable but pathetic me must fantasize about it anyway. Him and me, accidentally brushing hands as we reach for the coffee pot. Him and me, tangling eyes behind the potted ferns. Him and me, alone in the nap pods. Oh, hey you. Didn’t see you there. Ensue awkward but cute joke exchange. Followed by Long Personal Talk where we ‘totally connected’. That’s us--stumbling upon each other...
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