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Hazel Swiger

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2025

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46 Followers
61 Following

52 Stories

877 karma pts

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dear lucy

Dear Lucy, life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue. I love you so much, and you’re so pretty. Your long brown hair with strawberry highlights glistened in the sun. Your one green eye and one blue. You are somebody who you would confuse with Aphrodite. You have the beauty of a goddess. * Dear Lucy, all I can ever think of is you. My mind was infatuated with you all the time, but not in a weird way. I would walk past a store, and see something you would like, then think, oh, Lucy would like this. I just wish you would talk to me more. If ...

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verity and petra

“You’re calling for a dog that’s never gonna come back, Verity,” Petra sighed, laying with her eyes on my ceiling, the blue stars dimly lit. “How do you know?” I asked, turning to face her. “It’s just never going to work out, truly. I mean, I want you to be happy and right now you seem really happy and I love that, but it’s just not going to work out.” she said, frowning. My eyelids sagged and I was struggling to keep my eyes open, and Petra wasn’t helping me stay awake. “But, Petra, I want this to work so bad. So, so bad. I’ve never wanted ...

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made up of matter

It’s been three days, two hours, fourteen minutes, and 56 seconds since everybody left. 57. 58… I was in here for some pretty bad burns, and they still seared against my bandages. But I’m also up and about, so, who knows, maybe I’m just rocking the boat. I’ve been talking to myself as I wander through some of the hallways mindlessly, and I call them “I Don’t Know What Time It Is TED Talks With Gwendolyn”. I talk about life-changing experiences, such as when I tried my first pickle, Claussen, obviously, and when I discovered the world of c...

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yellow butterflies

TW: mentions of substance abuse and recovery My mommy is a superhero, and whenever she breathes out, she breathes out a giant cloud of gray smoke. Only superheroes can do that! My mommy, she goes out some nights, and then comes home with a boy who she rescued when she went out on her adventures. Then, they go into her room and when I go in there in the morning, he’s gone. “Mommy,” I ask, sitting on the corner of her bed, “where’s the boy you rescued?” “He went back to his home, sweetie, and he’s now in safe hands,” she would say, her voice ...

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amelie

TW: themes of abuse/harm “Ah, Amelie, what has brought you here this early? I just had my morning tea, dear!” Ms. Bowen tsked, making me regret my decision to come. It was early, just barely eight o’clock, but I couldn’t stay in my house anymore. “Nothing much, just needed some air, you know?” I said, twisting my hair in little ringlets. It swept over my face gently and I tucked it behind my ears. Ms. Bowen was my neighbor down the street, a seventy-one-year-old woman who always had some tea cakes laying around. “Yes… well, do you want some...

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fairies

“Rosalie, did I tell you the most important thing ever?” “I don’t think you did? You’ve told me a lot of super important things, so,” “Well, this is the most important. And it’s a super super secret, so if you tell it to anybody, it will be very bad, understand?” “Yes, Georgia, I understand.” “Great! Now, here’s the secret…” “Aw, just tell me already!” “We’re fairies.” “What?!” “I know, I know, it’s shocking, but in every 8th generation of our family, the girls are blessed with magical fairy powers.” “That’s, like, so insanely incre...

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Eighteen

CW: language, suicide, religious trauma - please note that this is fictional “We are unfortunately gathered here today to not mourn, but celebrate, the life of Jillian Fields. She was a loving sister, daughter, niece, and granddaughter. It is a shame that she chose this path of sin.” The preacher began to open his Bible as a quiet murmur stretched through the church. Great job saying that I chose a path of sin, Pastor David. And to think that I thought he was chill. I could see my mother sobbing in the front row, her head sinking into my fa...

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midnight lilies

I entered the familiar numbers into my phone. Three sixes, two eights, and one nine. Those were the numbers I loved the most. It rang. I stared up at the ceiling as it kept ringing, with no voice appearing to answer. His voice came through after seven rings, the number his voice always came at. “Hey,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat like it had when we would see each other. When his lips would meet mine, when his hand would hold mine. “Hi, Harrison,” I said, as I walked over to my bed, collapsing dramatically on it. “Why are you c...

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A Beautiful Sickness

I feel a pang in my chest as I stare at him. He doesn’t know what I’m feeling. Hell, nobody does. I am the only one who can feel this way - or at least, I think I am. “Jodie, why are you staring at me?” he asked. I laughed and replied with “Just zoning out!” as I always do. I repeatedly find myself staring at him and his coffee brown eyes. I get lost in those eyes. But nobody else knows how to drown in eyes like I do. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I have an idea at least. In schools, they teach us of this old feeling that the elders...

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dinner and salt air

The sea waves rose and fell on my feet, and the sand was giving way into my toes. I hugged myself, wrapping my arms around my torso. The sea was calm, white-capped waves slowly going back and forth. I watched my brother, knee-deep in the water, even though he was wearing a regular shirt and shorts. I sighed, placing my arms up in the air, stretching. I squatted down, making sure that I didn’t touch the wet sand, and grabbed a nearby stick. “June, what are you doing?” Ella, my little sister, asked me. She had put on a bathing suit, and her...

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The Audit

In this world, we breathe in sync. In this world, we don’t feel sad, or have bad days. But in this world, I am drowning. ** It’s 5:23 am, and my day is already starting off as well as it should. I woke up two minutes before my alarm went off, and got ready, practicing my fake smile in the mirror. In this world, we are measured during the Audit, which is conducted every night before you go to sleep. You can’t escape them. My family is known for being the most successful during the Audit. I was raised to be happy, and I will continue being hap...

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Normalcy is for Losers

I remember Jonah’s red car. The same red car that always appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of parking lots, outside of parties. The same red car that held everybody looking to escape. “Escape what?” he’d ask anyone who knocked on his window. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of 5th period or 2 a.m.—he was always there. Parents getting a divorce? Go to Jonah. OD’d on something strong? Go to Jonah. Bullied? Go to Jonah. Eating disorder? Go to Jonah. Depression? Go to Jonah. Heartbreak? Go to Jonah. I went to Jonah’s red car once. I kn...

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Sleep

I opened the window into the room. I always know how to open it, even if it is locked. This was my window, and it always will be. She has tried to keep me out before. Tonight is the night that she will finally accept me. We had been talking about this last night. Apparently, she had a good day today. This information doesn’t stop me, it just makes my job harder. I slide into my position inside of her head, and begin my job. My voice is deep, and raspy. I let out a low growl so that she knows I am there. I know I have done well when a tear es...

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Rocks and Butterflies

I heard the bombs. Ashes, ashes, like in ‘Ring Around The Rosie’. I checked my phone. Several news alerts, but I had missed them all. THE END OF THE WORLD - IS IT CLOSER THAN WE THOUGHT? I don’t know, is it? I open my messages. Sixteen voicemails, twenty missed calls, and thirty-two messages. This is the most I’ve ever gotten. Like, ever. I open the voicemail from my mom first. “Sweetie, I hope you’re okay! Dad’s here with Benny, and Angela’s with Grandma. I know you were sleeping, and we should’ve woken you up, but I’m coming to get...

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The Girl with the Glass Heart

TW: themes of death The room smells like sick people and crushed dreams. Antiseptic fills my nose with its painfully real smell. I can't quite remember why I'm here. I've talked to the nurses, or the doctors, but they all just give me a sad smile and say, "You will one day." The only thing I remember is my bed. The one with soft pillows and a nice, purple blanket that my grandma got for me. I feel terrible, and I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. What's the point of living if you're not even going to really be living half the time?...

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