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GYPSY HOWSE

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2026

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13 Followers
21 Following

6 Stories

115 karma pts

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Food for Thought

Weekly Contest #362

Brooklynn learned that hunger was not always a things that could be quieted, no matter how deeply it ached.Not the kind that make your stomach growl before dinner or sent you rummaging through the pantry for a midnight snack. Her hunger lived somewhere deeper, in the hushed space between memory and loss, where longing lingered like a shadow.Before gastroparesis, food had been her love language, the tender way she offered comfort and care.She baked cinnamon rolls for neighbors, carried casseroles to grieving families, and never crossed the th...

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One Last Swim

Weekly Contest #361

The first hint that summer was slipping away came in the hush of cicadas, astheir once-steady song faded more softly into the evening air.Nia Carter stood on the peeling front porch of her grandmother's house in rural Tennessee, watching the late afternoon sun spill molten gold across the wide, waiting fields. In a few days, she would leave for college in Atlanta as the first person in her family to attend a four-year university, and the thought shimmered before her like a bright but uncertain road.Everyone called it the first bright dawn of...

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The Heat Between Summers

Weekly Contest #361

By noon, the house had become an oven, heavy with trapped heat and summer stillness.Elizabeth drifted from window to window, lifting each sash until every room filled with the heavy July air. Outside, the cicadas droned without pause, their chorus rising and falling like the tide. The roses drooped against the fence, and the gravel driveway shimmered under the relentless sun.She poured sweet tea over cracked ice and carried the sweating glass out to the front porch. By eighty-one, she had learned that there were two kinds of heat. One kind ...

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The Last Grain

Weekly Contest #360

The clock had no hands, only a blank face that stared back in eerie silence.It hung above Evelyn's fireplace, silent and still, a tarnished silver circle with a blank, watchful face. It had no numbers, no ticking, no movement.Yet she feared it more than any other clock she had ever owned, as if its silent face watched her with cold, unblinking patience.Every morning, another grain of golden sand shimmered into the tiny glass at its center.The first time, she brushed it aside like a passing shadow.The second time, a faint unease stirred in he...

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Before the Last Grain

Weekly Contest #360

At 6:00 a.m., the alarm rang through the quiet room.Evelyn Turner reached across the nightstand and silenced the alarm before it could sound a second sharp buzz.Each morning began in the same familiar way.Wake up.Shower.Coffee.Work.Dinner.Television.Sleep.Repeat.The routine had become so automatic that she sometimes wondered if she was truly living her life or merely watching it drift by like a distant scene.She sat on the edge of her bed and stared through the bedroom window. The Tennessee sunrise brushed the sky with pink and gold, but she...

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The Room Beneath the Stairs

Weekly Contest #359

Every house has a place it forgets.In my grandmother's house, it was the narrow door beneath thestaircase.It had no outside handle, only a small brass keyhole, dark and glinting like an insect's eyes.When I was little, I pressed my cheek against the cold wood and listened, holding my breath as silence gathered. Sometimes I thought I heard breathing on the other side, faint and slow.Grandmother said it was only the pipes whispering in the walls."Old houses speak," she would tell me, drawing her robe tight around her thin frame. "Best not to a...

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