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WD Rose

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2024

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

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The Scribe's Apprentice

WD Rose

The scratching of quill on parchment filled the small, cluttered room. Luca hunched over the desk, his fingers stained with ink, eyes squinting in the flickering candlelight. Outside, the capital city of Lumina slept, but within the walls of the Grand Library, work never ceased."Faster, boy," Master Thorne growled from his seat by the fire. "The Book waits for no one."Luca bit back a sigh, dipping his quill once more. He'd been at this for hours, transcribing the day's events into the massive tome before him. The Book of Prophecy, they calle...

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The House Next Door

WD Rose

Submitted to Contest #259

Sarah pulled into her driveway, killing the engine with a sigh. Another long day at the law firm, another evening of microwaved dinner and helping Tommy with his homework. At 42, this wasn't exactly where she'd pictured herself – divorced, single mom, and perpetually exhausted.As she stepped out of the car, a moving truck caught her eye. It was parked in front of the Johnson's old place next door. Right, the house had finally sold. Sarah made a mental note to bake some welcome cookies – once she found the time. Fumbling for her house keys, s...

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The Midwinter's Nightmare

WD Rose

Submitted to Contest #257

The city of Sicilia wore winter like a shroud. Gray clouds hung low, their somber weight pressing down on slate rooftops and neon-lit streets slick with half-frozen rain. In this concrete maze of shadowed alleyways and towering office blocks, Detective Leo Winters was a golden boy - a rarity as bright and unexpected as sunlight breaking through the perpetual gloom. Leo's laugh rang out in the precinct, a sound that turned heads and softened the hard edges of seasoned cops. He leaned against his desk, case file in one hand, the other gesturin...

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The Final Pitch

WD Rose

Sarah's heart raced as she scanned the crowded stadium, her emerald eyes darting from face to face. The World Series, Game 7, bottom of the ninth. Two outs, bases loaded, home team down by three. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife.But Sarah wasn't here for baseball.Her gaze locked onto a man three rows down, salt-and-pepper hair, navy blazer. Mark. The man who'd vanished five years ago, leaving only a cryptic note: "I'm sorry. They're watching. I have to protect you."Those words had haunted her dreams, fueled her...

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