Trina High

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

81 karma pts

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“Hit 'N Run” by Trina High

Submitted to Contest #110

(Content Warning: profanity, violence, murder)MADDIEMy story? Well, I had me a husband by the name of Goosey...weird name, right? But, in hindsight, he did kind’a resemble a goose, what with his long neck and nose and beady eyes. And he weren’t no swan, I can tell ya’ that; I ain’t mistaken’, here. I only married ‘im cuz he seemed like the best option at the time. He did a decent job providin’ for us and our dog, Lucy. We lived on a farm and he was out milkin’ cows and whatnot for most of the day, then he’d sell the milk and sometimes a cow ...

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“Up In Smoke” by Trina High

Submitted to Contest #108

Okay; 350 degrees, and there you go. Marshall slid the confection into the stove. He HATED eating sweets at room temperature, so warming them was a necessary evil as far as he was concerned.The doorbell rang, and he looked at his watch. It was 5:30, already? Where did the time go? He hustled through the living room, decorated in all tan, to the basement door, flung it open, and yelled, “Go on down; I'll be right there” before racing to his bedroom.Upstairs, Marshall looked in the mirror. His blue tee and jeans would be okay for rehearsal, bu...

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“Pants On Fire” by Trina High

Submitted to Contest #107

“Honey, do these pants make my butt look too big?” Shaunette strains to see every side of herself in the full-length mirror. The tight black and purple capris look good to her, and the lambs on the butt pockets emphasize her bountiful gluteus, but she wants to know what her husband thinks.Tedrick snorts and thinks that what his wife really needs is a full-width mirror that takes up the full door that it’s latched to, but he doesn’t dare say as much. He dutifully responds as any man with two brain cells does. “No, of course not, honey. You lo...

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“For Everything, There Is A Season” by Trina High

Submitted to Contest #105

TW: miscarriageI awaken when the cock crows, as I have for the last sixty years. Before rising, I stretch my limbs, hoping to alight without pain. The soft 'tick tick tick' of the wall clock accompanies the cricks and cracks that are the hymns of my legs and arms. Jonathan used to joke that we sounded like breakfast cereal when we'd get out of bed. The thought brings a bittersweet smile to my lips, and I ready for takeoff. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, I silently count in my head. And I'm up. One small step for m...

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