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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021
Submitted to Contest #235
I’ve never seen anything like it. Technically, that’s not true. I’ve seen it on TV. Although something in my brain tells me what I’ve seen on TV was fictional. Nothing I’ve seen in real life, or depicting real life, has been close to this. How do you estimate windspeed without equipment or relativity? The fastest wind I’ve ever felt is 70mph. This is faster than that. Much faster. But how much faster is much faster? 20mph? Double? Treble, even? I can’t tell. All I know is it’s faster. Much faster. Don’t go into the mountains, they to...
Submitted to Contest #180
Eight times I’ve survived. That’s eight more than I deserve. I’ve heard about the luck of the Irish, but I’m not Irish. At least, I don’t think I am. Can those such as me be Irish? It’s impossible to tell. Such concepts are beyond my understanding. Death doesn’t scare me. Well, it does. But it doesn’t scare me more than anything else. The problem is everything scares me. Death is no more frightful than a car horn or a creaking floorboard in the night. Touching me anywhere, but particularly on my neck or back when I’m asleep provokes a...
Submitted to Contest #179
CW: Sexual themes, strong language. December 20th. A message arrived. “Where do you stand on a night of sex, no strings attached?” Kitty’s words leapt from the screen and into Adam’s eyes, where they danced a jig. He blinked, expelling the dancing words. He looked back at the screen. The words were still there, fixed in place, not dancing at all. Adam had known Kitty for nearly ten years now. They met at school. They were in the same Maths class. Kitty was good at maths. Adam was not. He used to watch in awe as she solved compl...
Submitted to Contest #157
CW: This story is about a jealous, petty man with themes of stalking I’m on Instagram. She is too. I can see she’s online. I check her status probably ten times a day. When she’s online, I’m upset that she’s not there to look at me, pay attention to me. When she’s not online, I wonder what she’s doing. The mind can be quite creative when thinking of what a loved one is doing without them. She left me about six weeks ago. Apparently it’s because I’m too needy, too demanding of her and her time. It seems that “It’s because I lo...
Submitted to Contest #147
[CW - Coercive control, trauma, violence] “Are they ever going to turn the lights back on?” asked Kathy with a quiver. “No. Not for a couple of years,” replied Alan. Kathy shifted in the luxurious seat. She thought about how, during different times, the rich and famous occupied each chair, observing the rapid advances in modern cinema. They saw the silent films of Chaplin give way to movies with chattering actors who spoke as if they were in the room with you. She had even heard rumours of films recorded in colour, just like...
Submitted to Contest #139
It is the 20th day of the month of January of the year 2017. It’s my birthday, but I treated today like any other. Turning 21 is supposed to be a big event. For me, it is just a milestone of survival. Nothing more. I was chuckling to myself earlier. Chuckling is not one of my main pastimes. I remembered how I started this diary to document my growth as a human being before life was a bleak scrap for survival. It is no longer about grown. Stagnation is now a perfectly acceptable outcome. My chuckles were about how things change, e...
Submitted to Contest #114
[CW – Drug use, strong language, mental health issues, animal abuse] I feed cocaine to worms. It is an act of natural sabotage. I only do it for the good of all mankind. You might think that it’s weird or cruel. You might not understand. You might be curious as to why. I have my reasons, which are thus. Worms are delicious, if you ask birds. I’ve never tried one myself, but birds seem to delight in having them. They also seem to only really eat at breakfast time. Further to that, the earlier the bird eats, the more successful it is. There i...
Submitted to Contest #111
(Content Warning: Violence, Domestic Violence, trauma) “So, are you going to do it or not?” Michael asked me, quivering. “Give me a day to think about it, please,” I replied. “One more day, but then I need an answer. Okay?” “Okay.” That extra day was nothing more than procrastination. I had to make my decision, whether I wanted it or not. Every time I thought about it, I thought about them too. How could they be gone and still stalking my thoughts every day? Now, I am sat here, still undecided. My day is gone. Mic...
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