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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2024
Submitted to Contest #325
CW: Substance abuse, Mental health It’s always the oil lamps. Every cyclone season the power grid is spotty. Meela paid no attention to the breeze brushing her skin or biting at her one long braid: in the worst case, the storm room on the second or third floor for a few days with nothing but cold rice and lamps. The days melt into each other with no demarcation but sleep.Chalo’s very name reminded her of wind and moving. For generations, the entire family tended coffee and coconut and banana trees. They harvested sugarcane and fished and far...
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