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Danielle Lyon

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2025

Stories (5)

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16 Followers

52 Following

5 Stories

104 karma pts

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Name Redacted

Submitted to Contest #334

The following is a transcript of the custodial interrogation of [Redacted]. The interview began at 16:07 23 12 2025 at the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Suspect is held on charges of fraud, human trafficking, and racketeering. [Redacted]: Are these cuffs really necessary? I already have a busted foot, so I’m not going anywhere fast. You, over there, what’s your name? Agent? Is he Agent too? I get it, I like to keep my name to myself, too. I only got caught because that woman and her henchman followed me home one night. That...

1 like

Just Desserts for the Chivalrous

Submitted to Contest #333

“There’s nothing to be worried about. It’s a banquet like any other at Blount Manor,” Mabel shouted over the squawks of the chicken dangling by its claws. She deftly bludgeoned it against the table before wringing its neck. Catalina blanched, feeling as faint as the fowl in the kitchen maid’s hands. She scanned the room to take her mind off the massacre that would become her dinner and the one that awaited. The kitchen’s sharp, pointed instruments swam in her vision so she focused on pitting the cherries for the evening’s final course. “ ‘Co...

8 likes

Music is a Balm

Josh balanced a crushing weight on his forehead. He could hardly peel his eyes from the pavement. One fist clutched a threadbare flannel wrapped at his chest while the other dragged along a brick wall, keeping him upright. Just a few more blocks, his scorching brain reassured his aching legs. Whenever he looked up, the blocks stretched longer. On the horizon he could see the neon lights of the pharmacy. He trudged closer, one foot in front of the other. His hand grazed the dark wooden panels of a storefront and Josh stumbled, shoulder collid...

6 likes

A Christmas Accord

Submitted to Contest #331

My back aches whenever I wear this jacket. The slippery exterior is a poor anchor for my heavy backpack. It’s also shedding down feathers like a Christmas goose and isn’t warm enough for the snow. I tug the zipper up to my chin and shove my hands in the pockets. Despite its flaws, it’s vintage. It was my Mom’s. I love it. Sometimes love is like that: even in the face of imperfections, you can’t help who or what you get attached to. Like right this instant I’m standing in the freezing cold, waiting at the third spruce back from the gate. It’s...

12 likes

Thank You for Stopping

Submitted to Contest #330

“Thank you for shopping at Marshall Fields,” she called after each customer. Her voice rang clear as a bell into the frigid Chicago night air, swallowed by traffic noise and street corner Salvation Army Santas. Though everyone who passed through the store heard her, no one turned to look. If they did, they’d see a woman neatly dressed in a navy blazer and a dazzling gold name badge reading Judith. Her posture, as erect as the toy soldiers in the holiday window display, bore a riding cap atop a wiry gray bun. While her smile remained pleasant...

15 likes