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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2025
Submitted to Contest #320
Trigger warnings: none of the violence is explicit, but it's themed around the murder of a child. I live in a tree. My tree is big and strong, and its roots claw the earth like an eagle's. They go down, down, down, wrapping around rocks, and mud, and a secret. Our little secret, he said. My tree doesn't bear fruit, but its leaves fall every autumn. Looking at it helps me know what month it is. Not with exactitude, perhaps, but I'm sure it tries its best. It's not really its fault that the summer heat lasts longer every year. December used to...
Have you ever dreamt of death? Not death as an abstract concept, but as something you cause. As a consequence of yourself, of your very existence. I was five years old, to the day, the first time it happened. Addie and I had been playing in the woods near our house, when I got mad at her for drawing a moustache in one of my new dolls. If you've spent any time around children, you'll know there's nothing rawer, more destructive, than the rage of a kid. I kicked her, pushed her. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to share with her the burning knot...
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