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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2023
Hey, Alexis, you won't believe what I'm about to tell you," I exclaimed, leaning against her cubicle with a grin. Alexis glanced up from her computer screen, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "What's up, Izzy? You look like you're about to spill some juicy gossip." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Oh, it's definitely juicy, but not in the way you're thinking. So, remember how we were joking about needing a vacation from our nine-to-fives?" "Uh huh," Alexis nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Let me guess, you're booking a weekend spa g...
Submitted to Contest #218
The first thing Clara noticed as she stepped out of the cab and onto the cobblestone streets of Paris was the sound of rain. Growing up in Seattle, she had gotten used to the constant rain day in and day out, but this rain was different. It was not just any rain but a gentle, persistent drizzle that seemed to caress the city's centuries-old buildings. The pattering of droplets on the cobblestones created a soothing, rhythmic melody, a symphony of nature's own composition. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of rain-soaked earth, mingli...
Submitted to Contest #217
In the realm where magic flowed like a living current and mythical creatures roamed freely, there were two beings whose connection defied the norms of fantasy romance. Their names were Lyria and Aelarion, and they shared something far more profound than the conventional tales of Chosen One protagonists or destined heroes with magical destinies. Lyria was a gifted mage, known for her mastery over the elements and her ability to commune with the ancient spirits of the forest. Her eyes sparkled with the wisdom of centuries, and her silver hai...
Submitted to Contest #216
In the heart of a bustling city, there was a quaint bookstore that had been a hidden gem for generations. Its creaky weathered sign bore the name "Rosewood Books," and its shelves held countless stories, both forgotten and cherished by few. One day, a young woman named Emily wandered into the bookstore. She had always been drawn to the written word, finding solace in the pages of books. As she perused the shelves, an old leather-bound tome caught her eye. Its title, "The Enchanted Chronicles," was etched in faded gold letters. Emily pu...
The rain poured down in a gentle, rhythmic cadence, forming a curtain of silver droplets against the windowpane. Inside the cozy café, soft jazz music whispered through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It was the kind of evening that made you want to sit back and get lost in the world outside. Alicia stared out the window, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass. Her gaze was fixed on a young couple huddled under a shared umbrella, laughter and whispered secrets keeping them warm as they strolled down th...
The bell above the door tinkled a cheerful greeting as I stepped into the small, cozy space, and a warm wave of roasted aromas enveloped me. The air was thick with the sweet undertones of pastries. A low hum of conversation buzzed in the background, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. I made my way to an empty seat, my shoes squeaking softly against the worn wooden floor. The seating arrangements were an eclectic mix of mismatched chairs and tables, each one bearing the scars of countless spills and conversations. Overhead, a l...
Submitted to Contest #215
In the heart of a dense, ancient forest, there lay a village that had thrived for generations. Nestled among towering trees, it was a place where life flowed like the tranquil river that wound through its heart. The villagers lived in harmony with nature, their days filled with laughter, hard work, and the bonds of family and community. But amidst this idyllic setting, a cloud of fear hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow on their peaceful existence. For beyond the boundaries of the village, in the heart of the forest, there lived a crea...
The small, quiet town of Willowbrook, nestled within the gentle embrace of rolling hills, appeared to be plucked from the pages of a storybook. It stood as an embodiment of serenity, an oasis of tranquility where time moved at its own unhurried pace. The streets, lined with charming cottages adorned with white picket fences, seemed as if they had emerged from a bygone era. Each house bore the unique mark of its occupants, with perfectly manicured gardens and welcoming front porches. Willowbrook was more than a community; it was a family. N...
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