Waverley Stark

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (68)

68 Stories

2472 karma pts

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“Persistence” by Waverley Stark

Everywhere you looked was the colour grey. The seats in front of you were silver with no undertones, no layering shades. The same blank colour. Likewise the floor was a much rustier grey, like wet rocks. The curtains on your window glinted the pale colour of fog.  You looked down at yourself. Your hands no longer had the same rosy colour to them that burst with life and health. They were dead-white. So were...

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“Death's Board” by Waverley Stark

 Hello, there.Are you afraid?You really shouldn’t be. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s too late for that anyway.Come sit, sit. You must be tired. Your feet are calloused. Your eyes are sun-blind. Your throat is still hoarse, unless I miss my guess. I don’t know why you all scream. There’s really no point.I see your eyes are darting all over my table. Do you like it? I had it custom-made. Finest red pine for miles around, smoothly lacquered and impossible to stain. You swallow, and your throat moves the soun...

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“Marriage Pains” by Waverley Stark

Violet Pemberfoot's stomach felt hot and tight and knotted together, but she couldn't figure out why."Something you ate," clucked Mrs. Trudeau.Violet sighed in a way that suggested she was disappointed to be standing next to someone like Mrs. Trudeau, and set down her wine glass. "No. I haven't eaten all day. I'm trying to lose weight, you know," she added, in a confidential sort of way.Mrs. Trudeau gave her figure a blank, uncomprehending stare. "You look the same to me.""No, you see, I've lost four p...

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“Those That Walk The Cliffs” by Waverley Stark

Every day she woke up tired, grey and heavy as the morning. She made the same breakfast of eggs and sausage, and when she had eaten she dresses herself in faded clothes and pulls a grey shawl over her shoulders to take her morning walk along the cliffs, and feel it crumbling away under her feet. Sometimes she wished to walk to the villages far and beyond the horizon, but she couldn't leave the man who had brought her here.The woman had been here for nearly two hundred years, but she had been without him longer than she could rememb...

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“Tabloids and Secrets” by Waverley Stark

Animal Incest Or True Love? It’s the day we’ve all been waiting for, folks! Ladies, grab your tissues!  Our favourite hottie millionaire, Mr Elliot Wembley, has married at the age of twenty-six to siren Charlotte Sydney, twenty-four. The wedding of these two angelic creatures was held at Rose beach in Southbank CA, with quite a lot of...

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“Faronucci” by Waverley Stark

You’d think that the most important days of your lives would be earmarked on a calendar from the time you were born to serve as a reminder to get up in the morning so you didn’t miss it. Or at least sit there as a warning for you to prepare yourself for. Funny thing though, my day didn’t start off as extraordinary, just ordinary really, with an extra bit of boredom thrown in. I was at Constance de Clare’s Hallow...

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“Killers Don't Carry Cards” by Waverley Stark

Daddy came home late on a summer night, stinking of wine and dead porch bugs.They didn’t have a porch.His collar was stained with lipstick Momma didn’t wear, and the tag stuck out of pants that weren’t wrinkled before he left. He took one glance at his family-- his daughter, sitting peaceful and innocent on the floor with her unicorns and her books and her fairy tales miles from their tiny house, and his wife-- Momma, that is her name-- glaring with arms crossed and thin lips he don’t like kissing no more pursed....

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“The Happiest Girl” by Waverley Stark

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She’s always happy because her life is lovely. She has nice friends and nice parents and her house is big and sunny. When she’s older, she gets a boyfriend who is always sad and just a little angry. She doesn’t know and thinks he’s nice so she keeps him.One time this girl becomes pregnant with a child and she becomes very scared and cries a lot. Her friends remind her that she doesn’t have to keep it, so she doesn’t. It’s perhaps five years or so later when she becomes pregnant again, the child p...

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“Shadow of the Son” by Waverley Stark

Some people in this life are wisps, pale fragments of themselves, delicate grey skin and skinny bones broken from being shoved into winds meant for greater strength than they possessed, caught up and trembling, probably addicted in one way or another, too scared to change, too self-pitying to try, too sick to care, too angry to love.  Two of these people had a son. And a house by extension. Family members, headed by a formidable "Aunt Angie", scraped together funds for a new life-- do it for the child, Martha-...

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“Newt” by Waverley Stark

There were many names for them, used by them, but only one name which they were called by others, and that was simply ‘those folk.’ This title was uttered darkly, with god-fearing suspicion, and usually in the shadow of a bar when the conversation has worn thin, and the townsfolk need something to talk about other than Mrs. Petunia’s homosexual son (a person they were united by in their revulsion of.) ‘Those folk...

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“The Death of Old-Fashioned Death” by Waverley Stark

There are some nights meant to be dark and stormy, to fit the mood of the reader and the tone of the events destined to happen. A dark and stormy night is a powerful metaphor. One can liken the personality of a particularly shifty individual to that of a rainstorm or can provide in the story an obstacle to overcome. The stereotype is overdone, the phrase is dramatized, the words used for the amusement of the write...

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“Annie” by Waverley Stark

It’s freezing, she thinks, slowly traipsing out of the waves, green robes clung tight against her shoulders. Already she's shivering, goosebumps popping out on her pale skin in the cool night air. She's tired of traveling. The girl carries nothing but three glowing blue jars and an odd, star-shaped necklace that contains both a demon with a silly name and an engravement of the last words her brothe...

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“The Mistress of Maxton Fieldings” by Waverley Stark

When I was fifteen years old, I fell in love with a boy from my church. He was gorgeous, blond, with a sunny grin. Everything a teen girl would want. I watched him walk the halls, charming and perfect. I made jokes during class and turned to see if he was listening. He was my beloved, and I wanted to be with him more than I wanted anything in the world. One night I asked him out and he said yes. I spent two hour...

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“The Utterlys” by Waverley Stark

What Bruce did Bruce Burton sat in his chair, trying to ignore the sound of his heartbeat echoing through the house. Ironic, really. Considering how dead everything else in there was. It made him think of hospital rooms. He hated those. They were white, and empty, and depressing, and he swore he could smell the tears clinging to the walls, as imprinted in the air as the awful words spoken. <...

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“The Lamia” by Waverley Stark

Alima Rodriguez had been wandering in the woods for days. She carried a rucksack on a stick, in typical running-away style. She thought it would be romantic and cool, like in the movies, but it ended up sort of stupid. She couldn't pack anything useful in the damn thing. Her hair was full of twigs and leaves. There was mud smeared over her shoes, burying the pink and torn string of her favorite Converse....

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Author bio

sleep-deprived student whose stories have gotten wayyyy long but who's going to try to keep posting on here :).

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #19
Real – read story