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Caitlyn Brewer

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2025

Stories (11)

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3 Followers

28 Following

11 Stories

106 karma pts

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The Ties That Bind

SCENE ONEBlanche Washburn spun in the grey swivel chair, disregarding Dr. Cornelius who sat deadpan at his desk. To get Blache’s attention, Dr. Cornelius sighed and softly slammed his hand on the desk.DR. CORNELIUSAre you listening to me, Ms. Washburn?Blanche halted her swirling, turning to the doctor. She sneered.BLANCHENot particularly. You were saying something about my mother, correct? Dr. Cornelius adjusted his glasses while pinching his nose.DR. CORNELIUSPartly. But I am more curious about how you’re feeling about all this?Blanche cros...

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The Kingdom of Mar

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom by the sea. There was a princess in the kingdom by the name of Annabel Lee. The young royal, 17 years of age, was training to become the next ruler of Mar. Her father, James, had given up the crown and divorced his wife in order to start a life with his new fiance, Frank. The kingdom of Mar was pretentious and straightlaced- so for his actions, the king was forced to resign in shame. Annabel did not wish to be queen. All she dreamt of was living in a cottage by the sea with her dear Virginia. However, he...

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The Raven Mocker

Sitting in the middle of a salt circle outlined by flickering candles, Mary held her breath. Magic binds the raven mocker to your family. It survives on the fear and wildness of your ancestor’s power. Control your magic and mind, Mary Williams, and you will be free, Uncle Eddie had told her. Mary bit her lip as her shoulders slumped. A strong wind rustled the leaves of the large pine tree that inhabited the courtyard of James White’s Fort. A cold chill down her spine made Mary shiver. This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m not a witch or clair...

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Remember Me

Remember Me “Don’t you remember me?” I ask, sugary sweet venom dripping from each word. The man behind bars squinted. After a few moments, he jumped back in terror. “Blanche!” he cried, tearing his shirt and fisting his hair. I smiled, but the action did not meet my eyes. You deserve all the pain and suffering you got, Stanley Kowalski, I mused silently. “Hello, again, Mr. Kowalski, remember me? I’m the girl you raped.” I narrowed my eyes and backed away as the deranged man, a shell of his former self, lunged at me. “Liar! I never did no su...

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Sunday Dinner

Submitted to Contest #316

ACT ONESCENE ONEAmanda, John, Maggie, and Matt sit around a rectangular coffee-table in Amanda’s dining room. The kitchen flanks one side, the living room the other. The decor of the condo is a modern-farmhouse. Amanda’s obsession with cats can be observed through the numerous oil paintings and glass figurines splattered throughout the home. A grand piano is nestled in the living room along with an expansive bookcase, although it is clear that neither have been touched in ages. The assembled family members stare at one another in complete si...

2 likes

Me Gustan Ninas

Submitted to Contest #316

ME GUSTAN NIÑASACT 1SCENE 1Ms. Cassandra Smith, a 5th grade English teacher, sits at her desk in the back corner of her classroom. Her classroom is decorated in muted, calming variations of pink and beige. The room is covered in posters of quotes from famous writers, thinkers, and leaders throughout history. Behind Ms. Smith’s desk is a large Pride flag- a source of immense pride for the queer young woman. A young girl enters from stage left.GIRLDisculpe, maestra, can I talk to you?Ms. Smith looks at the girl and smiles, gesturing her over t...

1 like

The Murderess of New Orleans

Submitted to Contest #311

CW: Contains themes and/or references to violence and sexual content. I remember being human. The fragility, the hopefulness, the excitement- all of those things seemed so foreign to me now. Blood dripped from fingers and splattered on the concrete below. The blood-curdling screams of the young man slumped on the wall in front of me had ceased, leaving behind a blanket of silence. A single finger entered my mouth as the scent of iron filled my nostrils. I moaned. Hearing approaching footsteps, I quickly grabbed my victim and threw him onto t...

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Glass Unicorn

Submitted to Contest #307

I wandered aimlessly around the museum, trying to settle my racing heart. I had a mission, a purpose for this little visit- to find the White Family Bible and uncover any secrets or revelations I could about our family’s generational curse and the raven mocker. However, a nostalgic part of my brain also just wanted to walk around the East Tennessee History Center and breathe in the history. It was strangely grounding and cathartic to surround myself with stories from the past. I entered the exhibit entitled Voices of the Past. My steps quive...

4 likes

Possession

Submitted to Contest #307

The crimson glow of the neon sign painted the dive bar in hues of danger and desire. Hazel, a creature woven from shadows and centuries, watched from her shadowed booth. Her eyes, the color of ancient sapphires, fixated on a woman perched at the bar, nursing a cheap beer. The woman, plump and unsuspecting, exuded an aura of naïve sweetness. Hazel craved her, deeply. Not just her blood, though that was a given, but her very essence. To claim her as her own- body, blood, and soul was a hunger Hazel hadn’t felt in decades.As Hazel moved, a pred...

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The Ultimatum

Submitted to Contest #306

Text from Jason (SMS): I love you, little sister. Take care of Tom when I’m gone.My heart stopped beating. Warning bells sang in my head like a church choir, echoing and reverberating through my bones. I quickly dialed my older brother’s number and awaited his answer with bated breath. "Jason, what are you talking about?" I asked, my voice trembling."Just what I said, sis," he replied, his voice flat, devoid of its usual warmth. "I need you to look after Tom.""No, Jason. Don't say that. Where are you? I'm coming to you." My mind raced, tryin...

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The Blue Devil

Submitted to Contest #306

6-10-25 Dear Diary, It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I haven’t felt the need to write anything in a long time. My distant relative, Tennessee Williams, was once asked why so many great writers come from the South. His answer was superficial at best- very uncharacteristic of him. However, I know exactly what he wanted to say now- it’s because of the pain. Haunted memories of torture and agony seep into every nook and cranny of this region. Trauma is the South’s most addictive stimulant, especially for writers. Maybe that’s why I have finally de...

4 likes