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Vera N

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2024

Stories (131)

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23 Followers

38 Following

131 Stories

510 karma pts

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Beyond The Firstborn

Vera N

The bells of Drenmoor Keep tolled six times, their bronze voices echoing through stone courtyards and ivy-wrapped towers. Lady Seraphine Valcourt listened from her chamber window, her fingers curled around the sill. She had grown up with that sound—an unbroken rhythm of rule and ritual. It was a rhythm that shaped her life, but never her destiny. For Seraphine was not the heir. She was the spare.Her brother Alaric had been the sun since the day he was born. Golden-haired, bold, always greeted with smiles and applause. She loved him once—stil...

3 likes

Horizon Breach

Vera N

During the late-night rush hour, the city was a blur of headlights and muted chatter. Alex Turner, an ordinary office worker with an ordinary life, trudged down the subway platform, earbuds in, oblivious to the world. That’s when he noticed a man standing apart from the crowd, tall, gaunt, with a trench coat that looked decades out of fashion. There was something unsettling about him, something that made Alex’s skin prickle. The stranger approached. "Alex Turner?" His voice was low, urgent, trembling at the edges. Alex frowned, tugging out ...

1 like

The Buried Sister

Vera N

The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, steady and impersonal, like a metronome ticking out someone else’s life. Claire blinked at the ceiling, its white tiles blurring in and out of focus. The light above was too bright, humming faintly. She turned her head toward the nightstand. The flowers there were wilted, their petals curling inward, already forgotten by whoever had left them. Voices had come earlier. A woman who said she was her sister. A gray-haired man claiming to be her father. A fiancé, who leaned too clos...

0 likes

A Shot Unfired

Vera N

Kael had ended empires with a single shot. Presidents, warlords, revolutionaries—men who might have carved their names into history if history had been left alone. He was the council’s scalpel, precise and merciless, a weapon honed to excise futures before they festered.But never a child.The briefing echoed in his mind as he crouched in the cramped attic of a quiet suburban house. The rifle rested heavy in his hands, the metal cold and strangely comforting. Outside, under the weak glow of a flickering porch light, a boy dribbled a basketball...

1 like

The Man Behind The Banner

Vera N

Mr. Harris’s hand shook as he lifted the microphone. The gym lights glared down like a courtroom spotlight. Hundreds of eyes—students, parents, colleagues—were on him, and for a moment, he imagined the whole town holding its breath. Everyone expected him to be calm, inspiring, unshakable.He wasn’t.Not today. Not ever anymore, he thought, gripping the podium until his knuckles whitened.A freshman called out, “Go Tigers!” and laughter rippled through the bleachers. Mr. Harris forced a smile. It felt hollow. Inside, his chest tightened, a storm...

2 likes

Things That Learn To Grow Again

Vera N

Eli Martin pulled his car up the narrow gravel drive and killed the engine. The air outside smelled of damp earth and pine, so different from the exhaust-and-asphalt tang of the city he’d just left behind. He sat with both hands still on the wheel for a moment, staring through the windshield at the little cottage ahead.It had been his grandmother’s place—whitewashed walls now grayed with age, ivy crawling up the siding, shutters hanging a little loose. To the right, the greenhouse hunched in the yard like a weary old animal. Several glass pa...

0 likes

Forty-Two North

Vera N

The sea has a way of keeping secrets. You can stand on a cliff your whole life, watch its skin glimmer under the moon or boil black in a storm, and still never know what moves beneath. I’ve lived above it for thirteen years, and I know only this: if the ocean wants something, it takes it.Sometimes, it gives something back. But it’s never the same.It’s a little past midnight, the anniversary of the night my brother vanished. My kitchen smells faintly of salt and the burnt edge of coffee grounds. I’m hunched over the table, hands wrapped aroun...

0 likes

Whisper My Name Again

Vera N

The letter was already inside her apartment when she got home.It wasn’t in the mailbox, on the floor, or slipped under the door. It was just there—sitting on the kitchen counter like it had been waiting for her all day.Lily found it resting neatly beside the coffee mug she’d left that morning, untouched and cold. No envelope. No stamp. Just a folded piece of yellowed paper, creased in half.She stared at it for a long moment before touching it, her fingers brushing against brittle edges. The door had been locked when she left. The windows, to...

2 likes

Lullaby of Lost Time

Vera N

In the farthest corner of his grandmother’s attic, Leo’s fingers brushed against something cold and smooth beneath a faded quilt — its threads worn thin from years of use, woven tight like the memories held within. He pulled back the fabric to reveal an old clock, its face clouded with dust, its wood carved with curling patterns like frozen vines. The attic was thick with dust and silence — the heavy scent of forgotten years wrapping around him like a shroud.The clock leaned slightly to the left, as if trying to disappear into the cracked pl...

2 likes

Where the Honey Hums

Vera N

The sharp scent of burning sugar hit her first, curling into her nostrils and tugging her out of her thoughts before the smoke stung her eyes. It was the scent of distraction—of letting her mind wander too far while the caramel crossed the line from golden to scorched. Elena lunged for the saucepan, wincing as the once-amber syrup hissed and blackened. She swore under her breath, tossed the pan into the sink, and watched a plume of steam rise like an accusation.It was her third ruined batch this week.Somewhere in the jumble of flour, vanilla...

1 like

Waiting For Five Minutes

Vera N

The world ended, for Clara, at 7:42 PM on a rainy Tuesday.The metal twisted. Glass shattered. Sirens wailed. And when the haze cleared, Eli was gone. One breath he was laughing in the passenger seat, humming off-key to an old Sam Cooke song, and the next—Silence. Stillness. A steering wheel crushed under her hands.Eli's last words: "You always miss the turn."She hadn't cried at the funeral. Everyone said she was in shock. But the tears never came later either. Just... silence. Months of it. Her grief was an empty warehouse. Echoes of what sh...

1 like

Warm Broth, Cold Secrets

Vera N

A single candle flickered in the dusk as Detective Marla Rios stepped onto the front porch of 218 Laurel Glen. The air was unnaturally still—too still. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once, sharp and brief, then silence swallowed the sound whole. The mailbox bulged with flyers and unopened letters, a quiet testament to days, maybe weeks, of absence. The porch light above cast long, trembling shadows across the cracked welcome mat, its faint hum the only sound in the creeping dark.“No one’s seen them since Sunday,” Officer Keller said...

2 likes

Paper Signs And Quiet Things

Vera N

Theo’s apartment always smelled faintly of turpentine and instant coffee. It was a cramped top-floor unit in an aging brick building on the Eastside, where fire escapes curled like rusted vines and pigeon feathers drifted through the air like ash. Most days, the only sounds were the groan of the radiator, the soft scratch of pencil on paper, and the hum of traffic several floors below. He liked the quiet. It kept the world at a distance.But what truly anchored him each afternoon was the window. His window faced west, across a narrow alley to...

3 likes

Don't Finish the Map

Vera N

The raft thudded against the bank, scattering frogs and silence. Elena leapt off first, boots squelching into the muck. Silas followed, map rolled under his arm, eyes scanning the canopy like it whispered secrets only he could hear. “This is it,” he said, breathless. “Last mile.” “Sure,” Elena muttered, swatting a mosquito. “Just like the last five ‘last miles.’” He grinned—feral, boyish, irritating. “This one feels different.” Everything felt different. The air was heavier. The green, deeper. The silence… listening. They hacked through unde...

2 likes

The Mirror Hall Conspiracy

Vera N

Venice, 1787It was the kind of night that made secrets feel at home. Moonlight spilled across the Grand Canal, shimmering like spilled wine. Gondolas slipped like shadows between palazzos, and laughter—thin, masked, dangerous—echoed from behind shuttered balconies. The Carnival was in full flourish, and every mask concealed a wish, a lie, or something darker.Contessa Elena Morosini stepped from her gondola onto the steps of Palazzo Gravina. A crimson harlequin mask hugged her face, delicate as lace, hiding the calculation in her eyes. Beneat...

1 like