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Halle Schaffer

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2020

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9 Stories

173 karma pts

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I Am Radiant

Weekly Contest #368

Forget-me-nots grow in the neighbor’s yard. Plush bushes, held up by lattice fences on all sides. They were unlike any flower Andy had seen, shining with their bright, bold centers. In the right light, they gleamed gold in the sun.Andy never met the neighbor, never saw her gnarled face between the boarded windows. If not for the manicured lawn, no one would know that anyone lived in the house at all.The neighboring children say the flowers are magic, that each one grants a wish. “The flowers make people forget who they are!” They’re forget-m...

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Clownfish

There’s an empty spot in my mind. It radiates with pulsating blue energy, void of the insecurities and thoughts that charge every day, every night. I don’t live there--god, if I could I would become a recluse, more than I’ve already become. It’s a comfort to me, though, that there is this unlived space, one that I’ve wholly carved out just for me.  In the day, I hide beneath the folds of a large gray fisherman’s jacket, intertwining my fingers with the unraveling gray cotton fringing at the sleeves. I don’t like being seen by everyone ...

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The Scapegoat

Weekly Contest #139

“Grow up,” my mom tells me, unfolding my fingers from the box locked tightly in my hands. I fight with little resistance before she pries it from me. The contents rattle, and I let out a cry.“Don’t break them!”“Don’t be silly,” she coos, putting the box on the counter, just out of reach. “They won’t fly away before we get back.”But her words don’t assure me. At six years old in my Sunday school dress, I push my face against the glass of the old Toyota Camry as we pull out from the driveway. In my mind, the figurines rattle in their box, wait...

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Rafters

Weekly Contest #127

Anna does her makeup in the rafters. She dabs her brush in the creamy white paint, slathering it on in fat globs. Once, back when she hid in her parents’ long shadows, she was given the luxury of a mirror. Now, though, her hands paint her face’s canvas so much the movements become ingrained within her, muscle memory. The circus, after all, has no private dressing room. This would be the best she could do. Her reputation had to be kept in pristine condition; they couldn’t know that she was human. It would spoil the act. Its magic.Be...

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Twinkle, Twinkle

Weekly Contest #125

I’m at the swimming pool today, sitting over the edge with my feet dangling in the water. I sit and I look down into the chlorine at the red and blue stripes on the bright white tile, and I think about lines. How I forgot to draw them. Love is lined. There’s a line between the friends I love and the lovers I can’t live without. The line between ‘getting coffee’ and ‘getting coffee’. A hug versus the arms that keep me warm for the long winter nights. It’s like walking around the rim of a slippery pool. How close to the edge can we c...

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The Pigpen

Weekly Contest #47

 Zoe killed her first pig on her third birthday.    Her father, the town’s butcher, had wrapped the ax roughly in brown parchment. He had thrown it to his daughter with a gruff “happy birthday.” Before, her mother had gotten her a long kiss on the top of her ginger head and her brother, Damien, per his usual fashion, got her nothing at all.      She had been hoping for a doll.     But Zoe wouldn’t tell her Father that; she would rather die.     “It’s about t...

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Heartbreaker

Weekly Contest #42

I suppose we all crave to be loved. It’s a human’s greatest weakness, after all, to hope for such lofty, foolish things.    Because like all young girls with a porcelain face as both their blessing and curse, my stony heart is its own awful conundrum--craving so desperately for love, yet equally unable to find it.    There was the farmer’s boy, who sells me potatoes every morning with a wide-toothed grin. Dopey, like a pig satisfied with a hearty meal, legend has it that he lost a couple brain cells wh...

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Sea Loch Ness Monster

Weekly Contest #41

Monsters don’t hide behind scales or hulking bodies. They don’t wait underneath beds or roam the deep blue for human victims to feast upon.   I cannot tell you if Bigfoot is cruel, if Dracula enjoys tearing apart his prey, or if these creatures even exist at all.  But, from my own experience anyways, there is more to beasts than their legends.   As I gaze at the sleepy Sun, stretching its last rays on the Hawaiian sky, I rock myself to lull away the sleep settling in my joints. The ocean wind slaps my ...

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A Game of Pretend

Weekly Contest #35

  The air reeks of spring. In our two bedroom shack, the carnations have opened their buds, yawning awake in the light of the warm, humid air. The marketplace buzzes with the newfound excitement of a new season to melt winter’s snowy residue away. Even Mother, who is stubborn as a bull most days and equally grumpy, hums around the house with a smile, sweeping the floors with the same spring-induced haze that’s been awakening the Ashburn Kingdom the past couple weeks.    The kingdom loves its spring, including th...

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