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Elle Tee

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2025

Stories (32)

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10 Followers

4 Following

32 Stories

233 karma pts

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Close To The Skin

Elle Tee

There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from being a woman with a "history" in a world of men who have only ever had a "lifestyle." It’s not just the physical toll of the CRPS—the way my nerves feel like they’ve been replaced with frayed copper wiring—it’s the mental gymnastics of trying to be "low maintenance" for someone who wouldn’t know how to maintain a pot plant, let alone a human being with depth.Our story didn't start with a spark; it started with a series of muffled thuds. I told him, clearly and in plain English, that I’m...

1 like

The Architecture of the Exit

Elle Tee

The kitchen floor was a lake of shadows and spilled grief. Isabella stood on the coal-black tiles, her tears making small, shimmering pockets across the faux-stone surface. In the oppressive 40-degree heat of a Perth afternoon, the air was so thick it felt like water, and in that haze, she saw her.A figure, woven from the dim light of the hallway, stood across the kitchen."Oh, you startled me," the figure said, her voice a soothing ripple against the mechanical hum of the air conditioner. She pointed to the wet trail Isabella had left behind...

0 likes

The Saviour’s Tax: The Final Breath

Elle Tee

Submitted to Contest #335

CW: Mental health, substance abuse I. The Stranger in the Hallway They don’t tell you that when a White Knight saves you, he might eventually send you a bill. They don’t warn you that some rescuers only pull you out of the fire so they can keep you in their own private cage. The first lesson I learned—the one I am still swallowing like glass—is this: the price of "free" help is often your soul.I stand in the dim, grey light of the hallway, leaning heavily on my cane. The air in this house is thick, smelling of old wood, stagnant laundry, an...

7 likes

The Light of the Forgotten: Lamb’s Last Christmas

Elle Tee

Once upon a time—though not in a castle, nor in a land of dragons or kings, but in a small, quiet home by the sea—there lived a woman named Rosemary and her old dog, Lamb. And on one particular Christmas morning, long before the sun even thought of rising, Rosemary awoke with a heart full of purpose. The alarm didn’t need to go off. She was already awake—like a child on Christmas morning, wired to rise before dawn, her heart racing with the spirit of the day. While the rest of the world slept in quiet anticipation of their own celebrations, ...

0 likes

A HUNGER FOR ABSOLUTION

Elle Tee

Henry VIII is incorrectly remembered as the king who chopped off all his wives’ heads. The myth is neat, dramatic, and easy to teach: six wives, six executions, a tyrant who devoured women as casually as he devoured banquets. The truth is messier. Only two of his wives were executed—Anne Boleyn, his second, and Catherine Howard, his fifth—both accused of adultery. The others were divorced (or rather, their marriages annulled), died in childbirth, or survived him.But history prefers its villains simple. A king who killed two wives is complica...

0 likes

Eighteen Minutes in Limbo

Elle Tee

The engine is off. The silence is thick, but it’s not the cheerful hush I remember. The car park once echoed with the cooing melody of magpies, a melodic signal of a new, promising day. Now, the silence is thick, smothering, and utterly uncomfortable, frozen solid. It’s the moment after a sound barrier has broken, and my ears are still ringing with the shock of release.My finger is hovering over the 'Sent' folder on my phone screen. It's done. I have sent the email to Emily, the one meticulously listing every betrayal, every lie, every bound...

0 likes

The True Inheritance

Elle Tee

The True Inheritance The night ritual is sacred. Not just the final, deliberate pull of medication from the bong—a necessity to quell the internal rave of CRPS—but the quiet, dark peace of knowing the day is done and the world has, mercifully, shut up. I, Isabella, am thirty something years old, and my current life—structured, quiet, and largely spent not screaming—is a fortress built meticulously over ten years to keep the noise and chaos of my family outside.It was 9:02 p.m. The clock on my phone shone the absurd time. Who, in the name of...

0 likes

Hell Has No Home

Elle Tee

*Isabella lives in a house that was supposed to be a lifeline. Instead, it became a theatre of cruelty. Trapped by contracts, loyalty, and the one creature who never betrayed her—her dog Mid-Knight—she endures emotional warfare with quiet defiance. In a world where love becomes a trap and freedom demands betrayal, Isabella learns that hell isn’t a place. It’s a performance. And it has no home.* Mid-Knight whimpered. Isabella didn’t move. She stood at the kitchen bench, hands deep in a bowl of boiled chicken and rice, mixing CBD oil through...

0 likes

The Bite

Elle Tee

Content WarningThis story contains emotionally intense themes including power exchange, ritualised intimacy, spiritual manipulation, and psychological liberation. It reimagines the myth of Adam and Eve through a satirical lens, exploring trauma, consent, and autonomy. Readers may encounter references to submission, betrayal, and spiritual bypassing. While no explicit violence or sexual content is depicted, the dialogue engages with erotic subtext and emotional control.Recommended for emotionally mature readers comfortable with mythic subvers...

0 likes

Almost There, But Not!

Elle Tee

Submitted to Contest #318

Isabella is the last choice. Not the first flame. Not the favourite. She’s the fall-back. The echo. The soft landing when better options vanish. Even the Devil only visits when others don’t answer. He wears many faces. Not just lovers. Friends turned foes. Doctors who speak in riddles and silence. Systems that smile with empty hands. Governments that file her under too hard. He is all of them. He is the pattern. He is the rhythm of being almost enough. She remembers the moment her body betrayed her. Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. A curse. A...

10 likes

Mind Me, Won’t You?

Elle Tee

The fatigue had settled into her bones long before the night began. It was the kind of exhaustion no sleep could touch—the slow erosion of being unseen, unheard, sidelined in every way that mattered. She could still show up physically, but inside, she was a ghost. When people listened only to reply, not to understand, her words dissolved into static. Her heart was denied. Her voice echoed only in the hollow chamber of her own mind. She opened the inbox.... Dallas had praised her body like it was a gift he’d unwrapped, but never asked what it...

0 likes

The Fog, Before the Trap

Elle Tee

South Australia Police DepartmentIncident Report – Case No. 0822-ISAR Filed: August 22, 2025Reporting Officer: Sgt. M. CallahanDivision: Missing Persons / Cyber Crimes TaskforceSubject: Isabella Ryan (F), 32, resident of Kaldivis Bay, South AustraliaStatus: Missing – High RiskLast Known Contact: August 20, 2025, 17:42 AESTSuspect: Alias “Justin” – identity under investigation Summary:On August 22, 2025, Isabella Ryan was reported missing by her housemate, Husani, following a series of increasingly disturbing communications with a man she met...

0 likes

The Curse Of Crumbs

Elle Tee

Submitted to Contest #317

He touched her. But not just with physicality. It wasn’t only his fingers that stroked the side of her face, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t just the warmth of his body as he cradled her. He touched her soul—her curiosity. His charm didn’t sit on the surface; it came from the depths. It was the kind of charm that didn’t ask for attention—it earned it, quietly, like a secret remembered. He asked her to bare herself to him—not her body, but her soul. Her identity. What lay beyond the scarred armour that shielded her fro...

2 likes

The Voice Beneath the Doll

Elle Tee

Submitted to Contest #317

Isabella didn’t grow up. She survived. Her earliest memories weren’t of lullabies or bedtime stories. They were of visits. Her mother called them “playdates” with uncles—Uncle Derek, Uncle Patrick, Uncle Greg. And her pop. Not the kind who taught her to ride a bike or read a map. The kind who taught her to dissociate. Uncle Derek had rough, fat fingers, that had a way of "tickling". That’s what he said. That’s what she repeated. “Mummy, Uncle Derek tickled me again.” “Sweetheart, he’s just playing. You’re so sensitive.” Isabella stared ...

3 likes

Human Contradictions

Elle Tee

Submitted to Contest #316

I met a man.There was a connection so instant, it felt like my soul recognized his—like we’d been lovers in a past life, or perhaps enemies who never stopped circling each other.He became my secret, my shame, my conflict, my happiness.Quite literally, my everything.He was the pulse in my throat when I spoke too freely.The ache in my chest when I remembered he wasn’t mine.He was the knot of guilt, the flicker of pleasure, the remorse that followed every stolen moment.He was my greed, my master, my daddy.But he also belonged to someone else.Wh...

7 likes