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Write a story about an ordinary object that becomes magical (either literally or figuratively).

Posted in Dramatic on Sep 20, 2024

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✍️ 63 stories

The Clearing

Submitted to Contest #269

TW- War, violence, blood.Note: Inspired by my father-in-law's recounting*Yae-grandmother " This belonged to my Yae," my grandmother coos as she threads the heirloom around my neck, "Now, it's yours, Lee." The jade Buddha rests coolly against my heated midsummer skin. I memorize the graceful lines on my Yae's face, a smile blossoming across my lips. The crinkles framing her eyes deepen when she returns the gesture. "It's my good luck charm, may it bring you good fortunes, my child."The memory of my Yae makes my heart sink as I rest on the bar...

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The Sisters of Truth

Submitted to Contest #269

The Sisters of TruthSensitivity Warning - Mild Sexual Violence Mentioned Edward Hale sat across from Detective Verena Jones in the cold, sterile interrogation room, his posture too casual, too calm for a man in his situation. His fingers tapped lightly against the metal table, a small, measured beat that gave away more than his steady voice ever could. His eyes, though polite and attentive, showed frustration. Verena knew he wasn’t the type to break easily. She could feel the tension between his words and carefully chosen pauses.Verena shift...

11 likes 5 comments 5
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Why does milk turn nasty? by Jim, age 5 abd 3/4

Submitted to Contest #269

It probably wasn’t magic. Is there really any such thing? But when Jeanie, Sandie and Pegs worked the light, strange things would happen.I was just a six-year-old kid. I knew little or nothing of the occurrences of the Summer of 1940. Not at the time, anyway. There was a war going on, I learned that from the radio and the whispered conversations that adults have around children. Some folk known as the Jerries were angry at the people of Aberdeen for some reason. Each night, they sent aeroplanes to fly over our city and drop bombs. The rubble...

10 likes 6 comments 6
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Toy or Tool

Submitted to Contest #269

“What would you give up to be remembered forever?” When I was thirteen, almost fourteen, my maid asked me that question. I never answered her, but now that I’m here, on a throne, being called a rightful king, without any choices left, I can’t stop thinking about her question. I never gave anything up, rather things were taken from me, but since I’ve been rewarded it should be worth it because I’ll be remembered forever as King Arthor.Today I saw a glimpse of the future, so I know what is to come. I might not like the rest of my life but it’s...

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The Oil Lamp & The Lost City

Submitted to Contest #269

‘Calling Laura. Calling Laura’ says Isaac, the lord mayor of Weymornington‘I am here Lord mayor Isaac’ says Laura looking at the oil lamp chamber.‘Laura as you know winter will soon be falling upon Weymornington. You are the only person that can make sure we are warm’‘What is it you want me to do?‘I want you to go into the New Forest and pick some chickleberries that will make the chickleberry oil’‘When would you like me to do this sir?’‘Chickleberries can only be seen at night and in moonlight. You will be met at the entrance to your house ...

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Wristwatch of Perfect Timing

Submitted to Contest #269

I had to think real hard on this as I wasn't quite real yet when it happened, but his eyes were drawn by the narrow parabola of the peppermint's arc. His breath had caught and his eyes gleamed when the little candy was caught expertly in a laugh by a woman with dark hair, a round face, and eyes displaying a jubilant and kind soul. He was Chris and she, we'd eventually discover, was Monica. She had smiled back at her friends after catching the red and white candy and then saw Chris's goofy look, and her joy had grown into a toothy smile. Then...

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Tick Tock of the Clock

Submitted to Contest #269

The sun hid behind a slate-grey ocean of gargantuan clouds, casting the landscape in an ominous darkness more fitting for the middle of the night. Rows and rows of tattered houses stood, rigid and unmoving, as if they were holding their breath for something to come. I squinted at the soggy map I had haphazardly bought from the train station a minute before—three hundred metres until my destination. My midnight blue wristwatch began vibrating, signalling midday. I was running late for my appointment. As I hurried down the stree...

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The Wedding Ring

Submitted to Contest #269

The Wedding RingbyGillian Murray Kendall#ReedsyMagicDouglas Hampton taps his wedding ring against the steering wheel. Almost home. Tap tap tap. Off the freeway. Tap tap tap.It's bitter cold, but he's warm in the car. Comfortable. Secure. He takes exit 25, enters the round-about, swings off onto Conz street and makes his way to the high school, where he picks up Nonotuck street.Tap tap tap.A good day, he thinks. It’s been a good day. Four dogs placed, plus, on the passenger’s seat, sits Lancelot, Doug’s favorite, coming home from the Dakin no...

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Just Crocheted or Knitted Yarn Right?

Submitted to Contest #269

Just Crocheted or Knitted Yarn…….Right? ~ September 20, 2024#268 ~ Reedsy Prompts ~ Entered into both…….“A story about an object that changed everything for a character.”“A story about an ordinary object that becomes magical (either literally or figuratively).”Inspired by a true story! One early but cold morning in March of 2010 while living in southern Saskatchewan, I received a call from Susie, a long-time family friend. It only took a few words from her to know that something was drastically wrong, some kind of emergency. She was ver...

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The Heart Still Beats

Submitted to Contest #269

  Thunder boomed in the distance like Elyria's pounding heart. She ran through the darkness for her life, each flash of lightning illuminating skeletal trees. Long strips of a ruined dress clung to her body, heavy with rain. Exhaustion laced her breath; a dull ache seized her legs. But each bay of a hound on her heels spurred her forward. Lightning cracked, revealing the black tower, the second option of her grim choices. She'd grown up like every other child in the village of Ravenloch. Stories of the black tower and its lone inhabita...

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The Book and the Shade

Submitted to Contest #269

The lights have just gone out in the restaurant I was passing by. The last waiter left and locked the door. The chairs, taken to the tops of the tables resembled antlers of baby deers. I was almost past the dark window when a long shadow stepped out into the street. It crawled higher and higher, and I had to lift my head to watch the thing grow. Second, third, fourth floor. I see in the shadows something that looks like a head now. A bald head with a fleshy aubergine-like nose, a chewed-up face and maize for the hair. The creature smells lik...

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Beneath the Crow's Wing

Submitted to Contest #269

I traced my fingers along the worn edges of antique picture frames, dust clinging to my skin as I wandered deeper into the cramped shop. The French Quarter's usual cacophony faded, replaced by the musty scent of forgotten treasures and lost memories. My gaze swept over shelves crammed with oddities until it snagged on something tucked away in a shadowy corner. Nestled between tarnished silver candlesticks sat a small, dark object that seemed to pull at me. I reached for it, my breath catching as my fingers closed around cool, polished wood. ...

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Her Journal

Submitted to Contest #269

I lost my mom 3 years ago. Shocking opening statement I know but it's true. Now, when I say I lost her I don't mean like she disappeared. No, then at least I'd have hope that she was out there somewhere, here on earth at least and that I could find her. No, that's not it, unfortunately, she died. It was not something we expected at the time. She had always carried a sickness in her but we always thought we had more time. She was tough as nails and would never let anyone see her pain but I guess this time she really hid it too well. After she...

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The Hermit's Lion

Submitted to Contest #269

There was the air of seasonal rebirth. The trees were rejuvenating, the flowers were budding, and the grass still glistening from the morning dew. In the south outskirts of a grand forest was a small farm house belonging to a young man and his mother. Dressed in his habitual brown tunic, the young man had just left his home that morning with great energy. Something echoed in his mind, consuming his waking thoughts, a dream from the previous night that showed him a sword. It was stuck in the ground and appeared to reside in a part of the neig...

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The Whispering Oak

Submitted to Contest #269

It was just a dream. That child’s dream. He had arrived crying silently and sat on the layer of moss covering the dry stone wall, next to the big oak tree. They both had held their breath, pierced by that desperate and lonely cry. Even the little stream had stopped in order to watch and with them, the entire surrounding forest had. The kid was wearing only a somewhat worn-out t-shirt and a pair of shorts that must have been red in better times. The shoes at his feet were muddy, and his legs were full of scratches, like for someone who had w...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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