Menu

More apps built by Reedsy

Assemble a team of professionals

The writing app for authors

Writing courses, events and memberships

Get your book reviewed

Weekly writing prompts and contests

Menu
Prompts
Contests
Stories
Blog

Aeris Walker

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2022

Stories
Comments
Library
629 Followers
59 Following

26 Stories

3987 karma pts

?

How to Bake Sourdough Bread and Alienate Everyone You Know

Shortlisted for Contest #306 ⭐️

Are you stressed out? Strapped for time? About three to five minor inconveniences away from total burnout?Now is the perfect time for you to start baking sourdough bread.Maybe you’re short-staffed at work, you’re house-training a new puppy, or one of the kids has the stomach bug and your washing machine smells vaguely of cheese curds. It could be any combination of internal or external life stressors that has convinced you that you are now the kind of person who bakes from-scratch, gut-friendly, personality-transforming sourdough bread.If th...

45 likes 50 comments 50
Read story

Swept Away by the Fine Arts

Weekly Contest #242

“Dad, this is the girl of my dreams. I’m sorry, but I’m not taking her to Crusty’s. No matter how good the chilly dogs are.”I may not be the most experienced guy when it comes to romance, but I know that there are certain places you should never bring a girl on a first date: McDonalds (obviously), monster truck rallies, your parent’s house (or any relative’s), and any establishment that sells food and gasoline under one roof. Crusty’s may be a local legacy—rumor has it President Roosevelt once stopped in and bought a corn dog—but it’s the po...

26 likes 15 comments 15
Read story

A Letter to Darlene: c/o Franklin County Jail

Weekly Contest #229

Darlene,It’s a crying shame you’re still incarcerated, Sis, otherwise, I would have dragged you with me to the Wheatville Baptist Church Christmas party last night, because it was surely a night I won’t forget.You remember Miss Beverly, right? The one who always wore her hair in that big swoopy up-do? She’d been directing the children’s play every year for the last thirty years, but she passed away in June, God rest her soul, and so they needed somebody to take her place. Well, Elvira Mumford got wind of it and said she might be interested i...

32 likes 20 comments 20
Read story

No Up, No Down, No Light, No Sound

Weekly Contest #227

There is no up, no down, no light, no sound. Your legs are bent above you—or maybe below—and you are as immobile as a fish in ice. You thrash and jerk your head from side to side and achieve nothing but filling your ears and nose and mouth with snow. You inhale the icy crystals and choke. The biting cold penetrates every surface of your existence. Your world is dark, your head raging with the rush of panic-laced blood coursing through you.A kaleidoscope of thoughts explodes in your mind—the foremost being that you are too young to die. The s...

23 likes 23 comments 23
Read story

That Last Little Piece of Straw

Weekly Contest #224

I open my eyes to sunlight trickling through the curtains and my little sisters standing in my bedroom doorway. “Mama says you got to wake up. The fire’s going out.”I groan and stumble into a pair of long johns, then head into the living room. Ma is crouched by the woodstove, poking at the dying fire and muttering something under her breath about me getting enough beauty sleep. Both girls are running in circles chanting a nursery rhyme until Kate stops and presses her doll’s face to Ma’s ear, making it pretend to talk in a singsong voice. “M...

44 likes 32 comments 32
Read story

Under a Dying Sun

Shortlisted for Contest #215 ⭐️

Smoke rose from the crackling fire and dissipated into the night sky. Stars dotted the black expanse, innumerable as the grains of sand in the Mojave desert where Connor McClain lay on his back, head cradled in his arms, thinking of Saralee.  I’m finally coming home, he willed his words across the dusty earth, through the mountain pass, and down the stretch of trail that would carry him back to the little wooden cabin by the creek—back to his brown-eyed, long-legged girl.  Beside him, Thunder stamped his hooves and huffed softly,...

76 likes 58 comments 58
Read story

Some Kind of Goldilocks

Shortlisted for Contest #209 ⭐️

“Twenty on pump two and a pack of Newports.”Simpson Leary pulled a tangled wad of bills and receipts from his wallet, accidentally dropping an Olive Garden gift card on the counter. He glanced at the cashier, a bleary-eyed 30-something-year-old in a faded band t-shirt. “You got a girlfriend?” Simpson asked. The man squinted, “What?”“A girlfriend?” Simpson repeated, sliding the gift card over to him. “If not, go get you one, and take her out sometime.” He tapped the corner of the card where the number ‘$50’ was printed. “It’s still ...

51 likes 49 comments 49
Read story

As Big as the Sky

Weekly Contest #206

The mirror is no longer my friend. I can’t hide the grays, the lines, the weariness anymore–the signs that I am becoming what I always feared: old. I am not so shallow, so vain as to believe that without youth and beauty I am any less–if anything, I am more: stronger, wiser, braver. But you do not see me that way, and I can only hope someday you will. When you were young, my greatest fear was losing you–that I’d put you to sleep and you’d never wake up. That you’d choke on your food. That you’d be swept away in a riptide and I wasn’t fast en...

41 likes 42 comments 42
Read story

Do Not Lick the Glass

Weekly Contest #198

“Who are we missing?” Mrs. Clogs looked over her bifocals and scanned the school bus full of third graders, wordlessly moving her thin, wrinkled lips. “We should have five chaperones and I’m only seeing four.”Then thirty children jumped, startled by a loud bang outside. Mrs. Clogs squinted through the fingerprint-smeared window; someone was running along the side of the bus, beating its metal belly—behaving in that uninhibited way one does when tardiness has subdued all sense of propriety.“Wait up! I’m coming!”“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Mrs. Clogs ...

47 likes 49 comments 49
Read story

Strawberry Jam Under the Sea

Winner of Weekly Contest #192 🏆

I am swimming, thrusting my arms through golden water—golden like oil. The water grows thick and syrupy, then it pulls me under. I’m in a bottle, glass sloping above me. Someone tilts and pours, and I slide onto a pan, palms burning from the heat. I slip and roll in the slick spill. Steam rises off my wet hair. Then I am smothered under the sticky weight of raw meat. “Mommy, can I sleep with you?”The voice startles me, a breathy whisper in the dark. Then it comes again.“Please? I had a bad dream.” Jack’s lisped dweem melts my heart, and I ca...

223 likes 157 comments 157
Read story

Keep Your Eyes Open

Weekly Contest #188

Walk along the walls where the floors don’t creak. Get your bag and take just what you need. Don’t turn the lights on. Don’t use the toilet. Pad the stairs, silent as shadow. Look in the mirror; get a good look. Memorize your face: the cut above your brow, your swollen eyes, the gash on your lip.Now slip into Julia’s room. Fill a bag with diapers, pajamas, her favorite bunny—whatever fits. Scoop her from the crib. Take the blanket too. Rock and sway as you leave. Don’t trip over the blocks on the living room floor—the ones you didn’t get the...

39 likes 40 comments 40
Read story

Out of Place on the Appalachian Trail

Winner of Weekly Contest #181 🏆

My backpack weighs 31 pounds, and it barely fit into the trunk of Jen and Steve’s Honda. I don’t think they believed I was actually going through with this until I called and asked for a ride up the mountain. Jen gave me that look, that pitying, tight-lipped smile, but she helped Steve and I load up my things, and then they bought me lunch before dropping me off at the trailhead. Jen cried, and Steve gave me a can of pepper spray and an awkward side hug. So here goes nothing. I’m at Springer Mountain, Georgia, with zero miles down and only ...

288 likes 296 comments 296
Read story

The Bare Necessities of Humanity

Weekly Contest #177

AugustThe foyer of St. Mary’s orphanage smells likes lye soap and freshly baked bread.“Professor Gray, bless you for coming.”The click of heels echoes through the hallway before I see her face—stoic and smooth, much like her black, unwrinkled dress.“Are you Sister Marie?”“Yes, that’s me.” She smiles and extends her hand.“I came as soon as I received your letter.”“And I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you’ve agreed to take this on, Professor.” She exhales in a huff.“Your letter—I read it three times as I could hardly believe the detail...

34 likes 40 comments 40
Read story

Good and Wild and Wonderful

Weekly Contest #174

This endless void has remained long enough. It is time to begin—time for the light. Let there be light.A watery orb is suspended in the dimness—shapeless, lifeless, so still, and dark—a murky drop in the void of the universe. Oh, the things I can do with this, what a wonder it will be, this liquid sphere of potentiality. It hovers, quiet, waiting, yearning for its beginning. Now, I will begin. I shall push the waters down, pour them away from the great beyond, and fill the gap with atmosphere—air—nitrogen, oxygen, the perfect compo...

31 likes 34 comments 34
Read story

At the Mercy of Your Choices

Weekly Contest #170

For the longest time, when I thought about who I was, I could only see you. When asked what I wanted, I would turn to ask you. Sometimes, I still do. I wouldn’t be where I am without you, and for that I am grateful, but those ties that once bound us have frayed and snapped and will never be what they were. I was your obsession, even before I had a heartbeat. My existence was pre-plotted by you—you who consulted the calendar and mapped your cycles like stars in the sky, then aligned those nights for bodies to collide, and the seed of me took ...

43 likes 39 comments 39
Read story