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Angela W

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2019

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

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No More Surprises

Angela W

Submitted to Contest #104

Home was where the comfort was, they said. For Icarus, home was where you were hanging by your wrists in your own bedroom. He should’ve taken his popcorn home and never mind the wandering child.   Now he’d lost his groceries and the child. This was why he should shop on Mondays.  Mobster one, Goatee, pulled a hefty wooden stick from the closet. “Why you have this then?” Why, Icarus had gotten it from the park nearby. It had nice swirly patterns and a smiley face someone had etched on. Not so nice now, on the about-to-be re...

6 likes

Dreaming On

Angela W

Raven could never sleep in the deep blue of night, because it was strange now. There were windows here, in the study with the curved desk and tall, plush chair. She wasn’t in her room of walls anymore. No domed eye watched her every move anymore. It was strange… But she was grateful. Just to be sure, she tapped the ruffle of pale curtain, stiff but not as hard as stone. Real. She wondered if she wrapped it around herself like a blanket, would it be warm? If she pulled it down, Kier might not be pleased though. He’d rescued her from t...

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Shooting Star

Angela W

Submitted to Contest #62

Time meant very little to an immortal. The movies and books and stuff portrayed that pretty well, having the person chopped to pieces physically and emotionally until they really couldn’t care either way how life sliced you. And here he was, Icarus of a thousand something years, burying a time capsule in the middle of a secluded forest. For the irony, he supposed. Or just to tick it off his bucket list. His forever bucket list that was probably a car crash of words at this point. The capsule’s nesting place was big enough for a sea turt...

7 likes

Lost Property

Angela W

Submitted to Contest #58

She pressed her ear to the elevator floor, and there was the creak-strain of cables. It was alive, like the jump of a pulse on the neck or someone swallowing a good meal, or the purring of a happy cat. Small living sounds that made up the world in careful jigsaw pieces. The powercut meant she could touch and listen and smell everything.   She could… stop. Being her. Just for a little while, she could float. She curled up in the darkness, fingers brushing the carpet. Soft as sand and warmed by her body heat, as if someone else’s palm ...

7 likes