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Jacqueline Langlois

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2025

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12 Followers
8 Following

11 Stories

89 karma pts

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Thinly Sliced

Weekly Contest #360

Rick Jensen groaned inwardly as the alarm went off at six. He didn’t even wake up this early for school. Weekends were sacred to most high school students. Saturday mornings usually meant sleeping until noon or heading off to the beach until sundown. But this one was different. The first of the day’s sunshine stabbed like an ice bath as it lit upon his laptop and pile of textbooks. All his dark brown eyes wanted to do was remain shut. He had to make a considerable dent in his homework before his afternoon shift at the restaurant. His essay w...

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From Here to There and Hereafter

There's that noise in the trees again. The leaves are talking, and their words are secrets because she doesn't speak their language. Still, she listens because they stir her out of her reverie. Is the wind conspiring, instigating their rustling for her ears only, or are they conversing excitedly, careful not to conceal their musings from those who can understand? She's listening too closely because she wants to hear far too much. God's voice is loudest in nature, as long as she listens with the eyes of her heart, where He is. This isn't h...

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Room Temperature

A child's emotions are pretty good indicators of what her circumstances are dishing up. She can't predict what will happen next, but she can probably sense what a less intuitive adult might be quick to dismiss. The smaller the person, the higher up she can look. As a toddler, and a crying one at that, she may not understand all of her tears, but she can feel comfort and attention. She can be folded like a fragile ingredient into the strong arms of an adult. Most people forget that a babysitter is nothing more than an in-between adult learnin...

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WHERE TO?

He drives a cab in New York City, crawling the streets of Gotham. Eddie is his name, and he got saved a couple of years ago. He was in bad shape back then, but God did the miraculous. Eddie had to do the rest if he was going to make it, and he can't take much of the credit. God was behind every step, and Eddie took them all, albeit blindly. Faith meant walking on water if he didn't want to die. This job helps a lot. Actually, it lets God help Eddie help others. Actually, it saved his life. He's not a superhero, but he is a Christian. Getting...

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Snow Angel

Fairy lights climbed the walls like ivy, rising and falling in slow flickers. The room was far from dark, and Madison Hayes let the warm lighting comfort her as she stared into it. Outside, snow drifted from an overcast sky. It was 7:00 AM, but the day hadn’t started for her yet. The fan hummed at its lowest speed, circulating warm air. The stillness felt clean. Madison hoped it would last, but knew the pigeons would be around soon to trample all over the moment. Their presence reminded her how fragile peace was, how easily it could be invad...

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A Rock and a Fella

The café is where Amy goes to shake off the chill before heading home. She smells coffee as she gets near and can't wait for the full-on aroma once she opens the door. Once inside, she starts to thaw. Whatever's outside is now unseen, and out of sight is out of mind—left behind windows covered in frost. When the temperature drops, Sips helps her regain the calm she lost about twelve hours ago. She likes to sit by herself and let her thoughts drift far away from the day's tension that sneaks in through the workload. She hates taking stress ho...

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The Waltz

Page was always meant for the silver screen. Cursor does everything he can to waste her time because he's her keeper. "How DARE Word try to sully her!" He rants jealously at the very idea that Word could ever be good enough to keep time with him. While fingers may hover over a keyboard and eyes may stare fixedly at Page, Cursor blinks with a rhythm that exudes distraction and intimidation. He sits on a screen waiting to be perforated with letters—a distress signal meant for Page alone. Cursor hates it. He owns her. Page is plunged in modes ...

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Writing Wrongs

Chaos was never so organized. Charts weren't filed alphabetically but rather in numerical order. These conflicted with the electronic files that had automatically acquired numerical IDs when the new system had been implemented. It was an arduous process, and the legacy patient charts were left until the end. They had the soul of the hospital, but histories could unintentionally be merged with other patients unless someone double-checked. The long-standing and much-procrastinated problem had yet to be resolved. The charts couldn’t be deleted,...

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Victory's Echo

This deals with combat and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Dale awoke to a storm that disturbed him. The snow was blowing so hard and high around the buildings outside his window that it obscured them in the darkness, transforming them into ghostly shadows. Only the streetlights revealed their outlines. Dale stared at the eerie, deserted scene and felt an icicle of fear form down the length of his spine. He was scared. Scared and alone. He couldn’t understand why clean, crisp, new snow blowing wildly in early February was wreaking havoc with...

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Pink Frosting

Mother does not want to talk about it. Pink is a weak colour, like frosting that melts before the cake has cooled. It fades into the background, is washed out, and looks too soft. It lacks sparkle and vibrancy. She finds it almost sickly and owns nothing pink except for what her mother had dressed her in as a baby. That gentle hue gets dirty, and quickly. Mother is not helping me pick out a prom dress, if you're thinking along those lines. She is not going through my closet either, or doing my laundry. Mother does not choose what looks best ...

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Maid for Fire

Weekly Contest #325

Sensitive Topics: Demonic influence and psychological distress. Camille heaved out of bed and logged time on the treadmill. It helped clear the cobwebs in her mind and calm her nerves. She lit a candle. Coffee and the keyboard came next, but only after she had plucked a shard of steel wool from underneath her fingernail. She’d been so worried the night before that she decided to get out of bed and give her stove top a good once-over. Camille Morgan was beginning to show the signs of a compulsive cleaning disorder. “If I keep this up, the pl...

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