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Hazel Swiger

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2025

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30 Stories

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War-Filled Streets

Julia skipped through the streets of Warsaw, Poland, in the summer of 1939. She didn't know that this would be her last summer there, or at least her last summer free there. Julia was Polish, and she was a Jew. She was eleven years old, but had been listening to her parents talking. "Musimy jakoś uciec." They would whisper when she was supposed to be sleeping. "We've got to escape."She didn't know what they needed to escape. She was plenty happy with all of her friends in class, and her Friday afternoon sandwiches at Piotr's Bufet. There was...

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magnolia trees

I woke up, as usual. I expected myself to get up sharp, fake smiles, and make my bed. But I didn’t. Not since Molly died. And the last words I ever told her were ‘I hate you’. It was just one of those sibling fights. But now we’re adults. I had tears in my eyes, and she did, too. I can’t even remember how it all started. Something about money and taxes, I don’t even know. But I loved her. I love her. I can’t help that she’s up in heaven, singing with all the angels. But maybe I could have.I got up slowly, my chest tightening. I needed to get...

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THIS SCENE WAS CUT FROM THE MOVIE

“Um, wait what are we supposed to say?” One of the Fairy Godmothers asked me. I forget the king and queen’s names, but I was there to assist the assistants with their duties. It was tiring work! Anyway, the fairy’s name was Merryweather. I rolled my eyes and mouthed to her the iconic sentence that she had the audacity to forget. “Bippity, boppity, boo!” I mouthed. The fairy smiled sweetly and thanked me. I sighed, putting my head in my hands. We had practiced this before, but she just had to forget it on the most important day of our lives. ...

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The Monsters Were Never Under Our Beds

TW: Death of a child, emotional and physical torture, storing of bodies “How many blessings did we count today?” Mother asked, placing her napkin nimbly in her lap, all of the children copying her. If they didn’t, they would have to go hunting with Father in the morning. Nobody, no matter their pain tolerance or bravery, ever wanted to go hunting with Father.“I counted ten blessings, Mother,” said Millie, Lucille’s oldest, but still younger, sibling. Lucille, nicknamed Lucy, had twelve siblings. She was the oldest, and was set to follow in ...

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Drafted

TW: Mention of disappearance by means of force August First (8/1) Dear Dad:Hi! I wanted to write you a letter because I really miss you, and you don’t call us a lot, so yeah. I really wish you could be here, but Mom tells me that you are being really brave because you’re fighting all the bad guys. I wish I could be super cool and tough like you! Anyway, school is starting soon and it’s going to be a little different because you won’t be there to drop us off in your Jeep with all the little rubber duckies. Mom says that my teacher’s name is ...

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Lady in Blue II

I saw the lady in blue again. But it wasn’t like last time. This time, I disappeared.I know how it sounds. People don’t just disappear out of thin air on the subway, right? Well I did.I hadn’t seen the lady in blue for two days, and I was just getting used to that other constant in my life. Miller was gone now. Sudden stroke. He went peacefully, in his sleep. He didn’t feel any pain. But I tried to save him. I really did.I sighed as I stepped onto the familiar subway in my scrubs that matched the blue tile on Memorial’s floors that smelled l...

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Lady in Blue

I walked to the subway, making sure to not spill my coffee. I barely made it on, and I caught my breath, finally sitting down for the first time all morning. There was a lady in a beautiful blue dress sitting across from me. I smiled her way, because the only way you can make something feel a little bit more comfortable in a public form of transportation is to smile. She smiled weakly back, a look of tiredness in hey eyes. It was odd to see someone in such lovely attire riding the 11 pm subway to the neighborhood closest to Memorial Hospital...

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The Last Tissue

Harley Green reached for me, grabbing one of my many tissues and blowing her nose, stuffing one of me into the trashcan next to her bed. She had a cold, and I'd been there for all two days and counting of it. But she'd been using another box as well. I didn't feel all that replaced, but I did have a good long conversation with my fellow box o' tissues about how she felt like she was being wasted for just one occasion. I gave her some words of wisdom as she ventured into the dark void of the trashcan, where she would finally be reunited with ...

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This Is Why Scars Aren't Friends With Secrets

"'I trusted you," I said to Emily. I always called her Em. I looked at her. This was the girl I had trusted with all of my secrets, all of my scars. Her eyes had glassed over with tears that I wasn't sure were genuine. I looked at her hands that I wasn't holding. She had a Band-Aid on her thumb. I remember her calling me, laughing, telling me about how she got the cut on her thumb. She was peeling potatoes and cut herself. I didn't see how it was funny, but I still laughed.She looked at me and tried to look pitiful. I wanted to scowl at her....

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Can You See Me Now?

Laurel Young was dying. Oh wait, no, that sounds really bad. Let's see... Laurel Young was very mad at her parents. Hmm, that could be it- writing about a dysfunctional family can be really fun! But it also sounds like the beginning of an old Disney Channel show. But let's see where it could take us... Laurel Young was very mad at her parents. She'd been sitting in her room for almost two days now, surviving on the snacks she would sneak in at midnight, when her parents were asleep. She had been doom-scrolling on different apps that claime...

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life is but a dream

"I don't know how I'm going to get better." I whispered into my pillow. I asked ChatGPT for some coping methods, and one of them was doing that. I looked at myself in the mirror everyday, too, whispering a motto or mantra. Whatever I was feeling that time around. I wrote in a journal. Usually in short, fragmented sentences. That felt right. Real sentences sometimes did, but when I used them, they felt like a mask over what was real. An 'I'm fine' or a 'just tired', to cover up the hurt that people don't like to see. See. See. There would be...

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Yesterday's Fools

I looked at the blonde waitress as she ordered my food. She looked to be about twenty, maybe younger. She was always the one to wait for me when I went to The Hummingbird, our town’s beloved comfort-style restaurant. She always had on sparkly eye shadow and blush to cover up her pale complexion. I, for one, thought she looked beautiful. Something in me recognized her, though. She just looked familiar.“Okay… small Evergreen salad with two breaded drumsticks? Sounds good! Also, what would you like to drink, ma’am?” She asked, jotting down some...

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Nothing Has to Last Forever

TW: Death “Mommy, why are we here today?”“Sweetie, I already told you,”“Did you?”“Yes, you little silly pickle!”“Ha, silly little pickle! Oh yeah, I remember- this is the bridge with all the locks on it, Mommy. But why are we here? I know where we are, but why are we here and not in the big white building?”“Aw, Katherine, we’re here because we’re going to put a special lock on the bridge, sweetie,”“Oh, right. Sorry Mommy. I’ve been forgetting things recently. But I still remember your name! Also, I just love the color that you chose for the...

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I Wish You Were Here

TW: Death and themes of strong grief I opened the journal that me and Sage shared. I went to Friday, week… we stopped counting at week five, to be honest. I skimmed over my parts, my rambling about my annoying siblings and scary dreams. I stopped at her part. I could feel my throat and chest tightening, and I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I can’t even look at her handwriting anymore.Friday!!Hey, girl hey! OMG that was really cringe… I shouldn’t do that anymore… Anyway, not much is happening right now. You know who is playing dodge b...

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THE SECRETS WE BURY

“Jon, what is this again?” I asked my brother, who was carrying a big metal and leather trunk with our great-great-grandparents’ initials carved into them. “Some trunk that you inherited from Granddad,” he said, his knuckles white against the hard edge. I directed him up the stairs, wondering what could possibly be in the trunk. You never really knew with our grandfather. He was just like that.We arrived in my bedroom and Jon placed the trunk down with a big thud. There was a big, brass lock on the trunk, and Jon handed me a key that fit per...

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