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Victoria Luu

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2022

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

83 karma pts

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Eminent Domain

Victoria Luu

Submitted to Contest #138

What is a house if not the centre of your world; a point of refuge, of subsistence, of protection. What then does a house become when it no longer provides these things? Merely a collection of wood and stone? Perhaps a monument to the lives that passed within it—the joys and the struggles, the fears and the dreams. Or is that a tomb?All the oldest houses have gone. When one thinks of ancient houses, it is the stately manor or towering keep that comes to mind, those majestic structures built over years and upon the backs of many to withstand ...

10 likes

Slough

Victoria Luu

Submitted to Contest #136

**Contains some adult language.My hair may be touched by gray, and sure there's much less up top than there used to be, but I can darn well hold open a door. Beauty before age, my dear, so do go on. Unless you're meaning to flatter this here gentleman. In that case, I'll take the compliment, but I insist, after you. There's strength in these arms yet, but not so much to be standing in doorways all day. And at my age, you'll understand, I hardly have the time. Mind your step though; there's a bit of a dip.You mustn't have been here before; us...

5 likes

I Will Build You a Bridge

Victoria Luu

Submitted to Contest #134

Drowning is the risk you take. The descent into dark water pulls the breath out of you. In, you will your body and the lungs obey, filling with artificial air carried through a tube leading to the surface. Out the waste gasses go in bubbles that effervesce against your helmet's narrow visor. Your legs find their footing and your body re-centres under this new gravity. Your blind hand reaches out with a spark. She lays her fingers across the scrunched forehead. “Hot.” But not terribly so. The little mouth tightens and his face is etched ...

7 likes

In His Image

Victoria Luu

Submitted to Contest #132

Content warning: language, abuse."Are you there, God? It's me, Rebecca." She was not the praying sort, but desperate times as they say. Her hands shook as she sorted the papers from the desk drawer. He had gone not ten minutes past and the adrenaline from holding things steady still carved its path through her nerves.Gripping the pages, the tips of her thumb and forefinger smarted from snatching the bread from the toaster just a little past done that morning. Burning the toast was a bit unusual. The berating, the disappointment&nbs...

12 likes