Vi Bisky

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (5)

5 Stories

503 karma pts

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“I Loved My Mom” by Vi Bisky

Submitted to Contest #273

September 12th Sometimes I curl up in the bathtub just to feel closer to her. I scrub her down here, once every two days or so, all the humps and knobs of her spine where sickness has spread, gray skin flaying right off the bone. Without any teeth or muscle to speak, her wails are just baby cries, nothing but garbled vowels: Awh-ee, awh-ee, like a door on broken hinges. Sets my damn teeth on edge. She knows it, too. She always knew what her voice did to me. That’s why she screams, even now. Even like this. I don’t think anyone wants to...

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“Saturn's Rings Are Disappearing” by Vi Bisky

Submitted to Contest #196

She’s fussing over me like good women do, smoothing down the lapels of my jacket. It’s the one gifted to me by the best woman there ever was: my mother. She parts my hair down the middle with her long-tipped nails, while I fidget under her thumb. Hawk’s eyes, she has; they change colors in the sun, first yellowish, then somehow greenish by late afternoon. Healing bruises, those eyes are. If she is displeased with you, her eyes become nothing but black holes. Her pupils swallow the rest of her, the way animal mothers cannibalize their young. ...

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“It Was Not Death” by Vi Bisky

Submitted to Contest #150

I died again yesterday. Or it felt that way, at least. It always does. A man caught me in the elevator. He got on at the second floor, when I was busy wheeling Mrs. Denborough out of the way. Something was on the tip of my tongue—Sorry, sir, I think—but by the time the doors opened for the third floor, there were three bullets in my head, and no words at all. I suppose my split-second kindness was to blame. If I had looked up sooner, hadn’t moved her aside, perhaps I’d still be alive. But I’m alive either way, so it wasn’t a matter of ...

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“You Are” by Vi Bisky

Submitted to Contest #142

(TW for miscarriage and child death.)Maybe we should play a game. That’s immersive enough, right?A game?Monopoly. Scrabble? Something—I don’t know!Yeah, let’s introduce him to social constructs. He’ll surely understand that.Do you have any better ideas?Well…Oh wow, I love that game!Shut up.Oh! I got it!What—ow! Stop slapping me!What about a guessing game?That could work. Like twenty questions?Right! I’ll go first. Okay, I’m thinking of a person.Um… are they alive?Of course!Are they older than me?I don’t think an age older than you has been r...

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“The Next Good Day” by Vi Bisky

🏆 Winner of Contest #105

TW: suicideDr. Delaney visits every Tuesday, at eight o’clock sharp. It goes like this: she knocks three times, in succession, but with no particular rhythm; she calls out our name through the door, softly, and only once; she leaves. Though she intrudes on our treasured evenings together, we admire her persistence, her punctuality. Still, we cannot comply with her wishes—even if we begin to listen for the staccato of her feet outside the door. Tonight is no different. She arrives, she knocks, she waits, and so do we.“Levi? It’s Jan,” sh...

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Winning 1 story 🏆

Contest #105

The Next Good Day – read story