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Danielle Lyon

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2025

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70 Followers
131 Following

27 Stories

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Weekly Contest #341

In this college town, the coffee shop is an unlikely sanctuary from the sprawl of co-eds. Students need caffeine as much as any other sleep-deprived human, but for whatever reason, be it their still-developing frontal lobes or a commitment to a nocturnal lifestyle, the local coffee shop is a ghost town before 9:30am. Dawn is a confirmed middle-aged woman, thank you very much. One of the disadvantages of being a middle-aged woman is the inability to consume caffeine after 8am or else there’s a restless night in store. So, when her daughter, i...

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Goals

Weekly Contest #340

“Huddle up, hunters,” our leader says. We are the four fiercest warriors in our unit. Our ineligible brethren wait with bated breath, pigeon toed and stinking of fear. They have nothing to be afraid of, because no obstacle will prevent us from securing our victory. The leader kneels as a sign of respect for what we are about to do and begins to review our battle strategy. “Remember, keep your hands free,” the leader concludes before he releases us to the hunting grounds. Diego, our tallest warrior, nods to the group and cuts a path to our...

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Nervous System

Weekly Contest #339

The grinder whirs, pulverizing the coffee beans into a coarse powder. My molars cry out in empathy for those bitter seed pods. Sleeping and waking, my jaw works overtime, compressing and decompressing. It’s 7:55 on a Thursday night, and Tripp isn’t home yet. “I’ll be home in time for our program,” he said this morning. I’d leaned in for a kiss, blushingly clutching my bathrobe. He works late some nights but never misses an episode of our sitcom. I tip the bulky grounds into the French press and add hot water straight from the tap. Making tea...

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The Curse of the Dunmore Women

Weekly Contest #338

“You got one too?” Clare asked her sister. They crossed the threshold of their childhood home. “Have you opened yours?” Lydia produced a folder embossed in gold script: From the Desk of Marlene Dunmore. “Of course I opened it. How else would I know to be here?” Clare said. “There was the invitation, but I also have this envelope with our names on it.” “Still the favorite daughter.” Clare crossed her arms over her chest like a five-year-old denied a second slice of cake. “It’s not fair that you get a letter to both of us. I’m the one who hand...

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Exceptional Brightness

Weekly Contest #337

My tools stand at attention on the marble countertop, waiting to be wielded in pursuit of artistry. I select the first and affix a dollop of charcoal gel to its bristles. The device springs to life at the press of a button. I begin to brush my teeth. The Proclean Prestige 8800 is the best toothbrush on the market. The bristles are arranged in a circle to achieve the optimal forty-five-degree cleaning position. It has five cleaning modes. I've selected Whitening Mode for maximum brushstroke pressure and a slightly-above recommended brush dura...

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Cost Reasoning

Weekly Contest #336

“You’ve listened to our community’s opinions, and you still decide against them.” Carl leaned against the door, blocking the exit. “It isn’t their decision to make, Carl. It’s ours,” Mary said. “And there’s little time for debate.” “Mary, you returned from the aeronautics show hours ago. It’s too soon to take flight again. No one has inspected your silks. The carrier pigeons need sufficient rest.” “Nothing I can’t contend with,” she said. “I’ll leave The Flying Cloud for the men to look over and take The Zephyr instead. Let Clio and Thalia t...

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Clave on the Downbeat

Weekly Contest #335

Content warning: Profanity, sexual harassment The lights came back on. Carlotta breathed easier. Anything could happen during Clave’s nightly three-minute blackout. She spent countless shifts treading the perimeter of the club’s dance floor in her four-inch heels. Her eyes acclimated to the strobes and blacklights like a prey animal. There was nothing she could do in the total darkness but freeze. Most nights, she put her body between the clientele and her drinks cart. Antonio did not approve of anybody getting away with a free drink. If she...

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Name Redacted

Weekly 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...

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Just Desserts for the Chivalrous

Weekly 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...

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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...

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A Christmas Accord

Weekly 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...

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Thank You for Stopping

Weekly 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...

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