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A.B. Writer

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2023

Stories (30)

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17 Followers

25 Following

30 Stories

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My Sister

A.B. Writer

It had been two months since Lucy went missing. Every day without my little sister was a nightmare of fears that my darkest thoughts conjured up when it was quiet and calm. I couldn't stand not knowing where she was or what she was doing. It was my job to protect her, and I failed her. Not only did I fail Lucy, but I failed Mom. I couldn't admit it, though. No, I could never admit it. I sent out a missing child report two hours after she didn't come home at her curfew, but even then, she could have been four towns away, maybe more. No one c...

2 likes

When the Sun Shines Bright

A.B. Writer

It was beautiful that day. Not a cloud in the sky, the breeze gentle and soft, and the spring birds chirping in a perfect harmony only achievable by nature. I'd never seen the sun shine so brightly. I had been with my twin brother, Max, and we'd been running through the forest that we called home. Raised by our father, a huntsman, we were taught that the animals and people had a melodious relationship that brought goodness and prosperity to both sides, and it was wonderful. I never wanted my days of home and heart to end. My brother and I w...

2 likes

The Discovery of the Origin of the Glass Lotus

A.B. Writer

Kara knew that when she found received pendant, it meant something. She knew that this little glass lotus in the center of her necklace meant something. It had always belonged to her mother, Arista, and was passed down through her families over the centuries. Her mother always said that it first belonged to some broken-hearted princess in the fifteen-hundreds, but Kara didn't listen to that part of the story. She listened to the adventure, to the secrecy, and to the bonds that held the family together in the story. Something she'd always wan...

2 likes

The Book of the Glass Lotus

A.B. Writer

Property of Sir Jean Burnhood1577The Soiree of Burnhood wast did hold at a most fair gala, madeth into a soiree f'r the youngest son of the king and the eldest sist'r of anoth'r landeth. It cameth to passeth yond these two fellows met and hath fallen in loveth, their essences burning with an ev'r blazing fireth yond outstood coequal the fiercest winds and storms yond threatened to shatter their utopia of a home.(The Party of Burnhood was held at a most beautiful gala, made into a party for the youngest son of the king and the eldest sister o...

2 likes

Cinderella: The Beginning

A.B. Writer

I walked through the streets of my happy little town, basket in hand and my daughters beside me. The houses stood row on row, made from the regular wood, flax straw for roofing, some with stone in the fronts, and all with their windows open. "Bella, Anna, go fetch some bread from Mr. Matthews for Mummy," I said softly, putting a few of our coins into their tiny hands. Bella nodded enthusiastically, grabbing Anna's hand and pulling her away. I watched with a loving expression, shaking my head as I turned to the smaller shops in the market. I ...

2 likes

Together Forever

A.B. Writer

Waking up in my old, four poster bed, I sighed and rolled over onto my side. The bed was empty, much to my chagrin, but I shrugged, knowing that the girl I slept next to would have been downstairs. I sighed heavily as I sat up, my back popping and knees cracked as I stretched. "Good morning, beautiful," I murmur, putting on a shirt that she'd gotten me and buttoning it on my broad chest. Still fits, I thought to myself, nodding and putting on my blue house slippers. After taking a once-over in the mirror, I nodded, combing my receding hair b...

2 likes

Lost Sheep

A.B. Writer

While grazing out in the lush green fields with my brothers and sisters, a soft voice spoke in my mind, lifting my head from the grass and egging me towards a fresh patch of bloomed flowers. I let out a soft whine, blinking and trying to ease my thoughts of the voice, but I could not seem to escape it. The flowers are good for you, little sheep... the voice spoke, cooing into my tender ears. Probably better than the grass your master gives. My ears flicked on top of my head, a light shake of my wooly body coming as I listen to the aid of...

3 likes

With An Ever-Heavy Heart

A.B. Writer

My dearest, most loved, Annalise, My darling, I despair so fondly towards yourself and our two children despite our great distance, knowing just how long I've waited to once again gaze upon your beautiful face and hear your voice, so soft in your even tones and so strong in your lovely singing. I, with a pain-filled mind, now know that my deepest wants are now for nothing, my darling. The general from Virginia, who had been put in charge of this land not too long ago, had placed me at the head of a battalion -oh, what joy!- and that we'd b...

3 likes

A Sense of Innocence

A.B. Writer

I know that you people shall not believe me, considering my circumstances and how the event transpired, but I shall make a point, nonetheless. Though my argument shall not be believed, I am innocent in the face of this heartbreaking turmoil that has recently been waged on our fair town, the loss of our darling mayor and his first-born son creating a strange sense of tension amongst us commonfolk. Now, I do indeed know that I am not in any sense common, but I do not believe myself to be above the rest of such citizens that surround me in thi...

3 likes

Gone, But Not Forgotten.

A.B. Writer

“Leslie, I need you to look at me. I need you to look me in my eyes, young lady.” Leslie slowly looked up at the taller man in front of her, a permanent frown etched on her youthful, alabaster face. Her dark brown eyes met his piercing blue, a stark contrast between each of the other. The man bent down to Leslie’s level and brushed a strand of dark hair away from her pale face, a subtle frown on his own coffee tinted face. ”She’s gone, my dear. Your mother just passed away a few minutes ago,” he reports quietly, his words a soft breeze in th...

3 likes

The Wind in the Willows

A.B. Writer

The wind in the willows is jolly,An old friend older than time.The wind in the willows has no folly,And is an old friend of mine. She spends her days singing,A beautiful and happy tune.The wind in the willows is singing,Beneath the light of the moon. Her songs are soothing and breezy,A tale of a warm and cool night.The wind in the willows is singing,A tale of when everything was right. She prefers her days in brightness,In times when the bad is all gone.The wind in the willows hates darkness,And wishes the days would move on. The wind in the...

5 likes

Persuasion

A.B. Writer

I wipe my hands on my checkered vest, making sure that I look perfect for this interview. I know that a lot rides on this, and I have a strict deadline. If I don't get this in the bag, everything will go wrong. I stare up at the two other people in the room: a woman named Maddie and a man named John. I smile at them, though it is a little forced. What do I say? I practiced this all day. I've got this. I clear my throat and pull out my presentation board, unveiling the board from below a sheet. It has many pictures and strings connecting the...

4 likes

Opposites Attract

A.B. Writer

Okay, people always say that 'opposites attract'. Now, I didn't believe that for the first decade of my life, but when I met Ricky Johnson, I started believing it. I've always been the studious and serious type of girl, like the ones who listen to everything a teacher or peer says just in case I need to use it later. Ricky prefers to 'stay in the zone' or just be plain reckless. I swear, one of these days, he is going to get himself hurt. For example... One day, we were at the park by my house. It was an older park; one that I played at as a...

4 likes

Breaking Things Over Summer Break

A.B. Writer

I had always been an exceptionally clumsy person. I would trip over my own feet (stupid two left feet), I would run into the walls (they just get in the way!), and so much other stuff that I don't have time to explain. It's honestly a miracle that I never had to go to the hospital for any if the stuff I got hurt for. It was only ever mild; a stubbed toe here, a splinter there, but it was nothing compared to what happened when I went to the museum. On that eventful trip, it had been me, my parents, my best friend Sarah, and my little sister C...

5 likes

Calming the Storm

A.B. Writer

Twelve teenage to adult men and one teacher are on a ship in the middle of a large lake. The teacher has had an especially long day at work, teaching to others who do not know as much as he does. The twelve men follow their teacher through night and day, soaking up his presence and listening to every word he says. The teacher is very good at telling stories, and so he teaches the ones who listen with stories of life and reality, instead of the fantasies the listeners would think they would hear. The teacher and the men have been outside al...

6 likes