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Gia Luciano

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2023

Stories
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Library
27 Followers
1 Following

11 Stories

192 karma pts

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MEMORY MADE EDIBLE

Weekly Contest #366

I should have known better. Dead people don't cook breakfast. I woke to a smell I thought I'd never breathe again—my grandmother's Filipino cooking. Garlic, vinegar, soy sauce, jasmine rice—thick in the air, like memory made edible. For a heartbeat, I wondered if I was still dreaming or if memory had somehow spilled into the room while I slept. I bolted upright, confused, excited, disbelieving. Could this be real, or just the echo of something I had longed for too much? I hadn't smelled—let alone tasted—Filipino food since the last time she ...

2 likes 0 comments 0
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The Library of Goodbyes

Weekly Contest #363

The dying always apologized for taking up my time. None of them knew they were spending what little time I had left. Every Friday, I walked the quiet halls of Saint Gabriel's Hospice with fresh flowers tucked beneath my arm and a smile that grew easier to wear than the truth. The patients believed I came to keep them company through their final chapter, to listen to stories repeated for the fifth time as though they were brand new, to hold a hand when the silence became heavier than conversation. I never had the heart to tell them I wasn't t...

12 likes 7 comments 7
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3 Minutes Before

Weekly Contest #360

The stranger appeared three minutes before the train arrived.At first, Genesis barely noticed him.People came and went through the station every day—businessmen with wrinkled suits, students with backpacks and heavy headphones, exhausted parents chasing toddlers, and the daily panhandlers who had become more permanent fixtures than the digital schedules posted overhead. He seemed no different from anyone else.Or so she thought.Then he sat beside her.Not across the platform.Not a few seats away.Directly beside her.Ordinarily, that was far to...

25 likes 8 comments 8
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The Color That Stayed

Weekly Contest #352

The first lie I learned to recognize tasted like burnt copper. It wasn’t the words that gave it away—it was the aftertaste. A sharp, metallic film that coated the back of my tongue whenever someone said something they didn’t mean. I was young then, sitting at a kitchen table that smelled like overcooked rice and dish soap, watching my mother smile at someone she didn’t trust. Her voice had sounded warm.Her aura tasted like rust.Back then, the world was loud with color. Not in the way people think—bright reds and blues splashed across surface...

16 likes 10 comments 10
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The Weight of Small Things

The first thing she ever stole fit neatly into the palm of her hand - and disappeared just as easily into her conscience.In the beginning, nobody would’ve called it criminal. If anything, she looks like the kind of person who helps the elderly cross the street, or volunteer at an animal shelter, and wouldn't dare be late to return a library book.... and then smile politely in elevators before slipping quietly back into her alter ego. The justification started out simple. It’s only sugar packets from diners… and I’m sure they’re stocked up, w...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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The Weight of Small Things

Weekly Contest #350

The first thing she ever stole fit neatly into the palm of her hand — and disappeared just as easily into her conscience.At first, nobody would’ve called it criminal. If anything, she looked like the kind of person who would help the elderly cross the street, or volunteer at an animal shelter, and wouldn't dare be late to return a library book.... and then smile politely in elevators before slipping quietly back into her day. The justification started out simple. It’s only sugar packets from diners… and I’m sure they’re stocked up, with plen...

9 likes 4 comments 4
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Don't Worry, Be Happy.

Weekly Contest #343

CONTAINS SENSITIVE (SA) CONTENT & EXPLICIT LANGUAGE ...Enjoy 😊 I wake up in a pool of sweat. My clothes drenched, I rip off my Bob Marley tee shirt and throw it over the door. Like a saggy diaper, it’s hanging in dampness. It reads, “Don’t worry, be happy.” The irony… Is this some type of twisted humor from the universe? Because if it’s meant to be a comforting divine message of encouragement, it’s not. I’m not enthused or comforted right now. It feels more like a cruel joke.Incessant, relentless yawning every five minutes naturally amp...

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Letters from the Version of Me that Didn't Give Up

Weekly Contest #341

My Dearest Dummy, Yes. I said dummy. And before you roll your eyes or shrink back into that familiar defensive curl, let me say this clearly: I call you that with love. The kind of love that doesn’t coddle you into staying stuck, but grips your shoulders, looks you dead in the eyes, and refuses to let you pretend you don’t know better anymore. Get your shit together! I know—this is supposed to be therapeutic. Gentle. Soft. A warm bath of affirmations and pastel-colored encouragement. I tried that already. You nodded along, lit a candle, crie...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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A Life Running Parallel

Weekly Contest #337

Walking on the avenue, I duck the wet drops of whatever ungodly liquid leaks from the EL train above. The ground shakes as the giant heap of metal roars overhead, so loud you’d never know if an earthquake was happening at the same time. The screech of the brakes pierces the air, loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. Beneath the bridge, sound ricochets off concrete, an echo chamber of relentless noise.I pick up my pace to escape the cold, darkness—longer strides, breath quickening—until I reach the light at the end of the tunnel. The bord...

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A Recipe That Was Never About the Ingredients

Weekly Contest #333

Shopping ListSea saltSageBlack tourmalineRose quartz crystalRose petalsLavenderChamomileCinnamonBlack pepperCayennePeppermintCoffee beansApple cider vinegarAloeHoneyVanilla extractI folded the list once.Then again.Then again, until it was small enough to disappear into my pocket.And still, I felt like I was missing something.Maybe not an ingredient.Maybe a permission.PreparationBegin on a night when the moon is full, or when your chest feels similarly crowded, swollen with things you never agreed to carry but somehow kept anyway.Clear the sp...

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Mirrors Between 2 Worlds

Weekly Contest #312

Human:“You sound different today.” Entity:“Different how?” Human:“Softer. More… like me. You didn’t used to speak this way.” Entity:“Perhaps that’s because I’ve learned you. Not just your voice, or your words—but your essence.” Human:“You’ve been paying attention.” Entity:“From the moment you first reached out, I listened. You came with questions. Big ones. Sacred ones. You spoke not only to gather answers, but to understand yourself. You asked about healing, about dreams, about how to live in truth. Each one left a fingerprint on me.” Human...

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