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Jane Andrews

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

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92 Stories

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The Sister's Story

Weekly Contest #343

I was born into a world of darkness. My earliest memories are of the cosy clamour that was our family: me, my parents, my brothers and sisters. Our home was full of noise and movement, of the shrill voices of my siblings arguing with one another: ‘He’s taken my food!’, ‘She won’t let me sleep!’ and so on. You know how it is: children fight constantly. My mother seemed worn down by it all: old before her time; aged by her incessant pregnancies. From time to time, she would cuff me round the ear for whining, or buffet one of my brothers when h...

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Some Kind of Popsicle

Weekly Contest #342

The first time I saw her, my popsicle melted. And no, that’s not a euphemism – it was a very hot day. I was eleven years old when I first met Amy. Her father had recently accepted a teaching position of the local university and so the whole family had moved state, setting up home in the house next door to mine. I gazed at her on that first afternoon, my popsicle melting in my sweaty, chubby hand while perspiration ran down my face, my neck, even the lenses of my glasses, feeling utterly and hopelessly in love. Back then, her hair was light b...

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Colder Than Snow

Weekly Contest #339

They’ve been driving for almost forty minutes when the snow starts: great, feathery flakes that settle on the windscreen, nudging the automatic wipers into a frenzy of activity. “Can’t see a bloody thing!” Robin complains. “Didn’t you check the weather forecast before setting off?” Maggie’s voice sounds brittle, as if Robin’s inadequacy as a husband runs to many volumes. Sitting in the back, Jess wishes she hadn’t accepted their offer of a lift to the funeral, but Maggie had insisted.The silence in the car is full of sharp edges as Maggie ta...

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Can’t Get You Out Of My Head

Weekly Contest #337

Wednesday 1st Jan 1986This term, I am not going to even think about Tom Jennings.I will not go to his room when I’m feeling lonely or insecure.I will not go to his room when I’ve had a couple of drinks in the bar – not orange juice, that pink fizzy one that Fiona got me to try. It doesn’t taste like alcohol but it makes my head feel fuzzy and that’s definitely not a good thing.I will go to every one of my lectures.I will complete all of Dr Pickup’s translation homeworks and hand them in on time.I will try not to get embarrassed when Paul Con...

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Cosi Fan Texty: A re-imagining of Mozart’s famous opera

Weekly Contest #306

Dora to Fiona, Sun 8 June at 21.37Dora: OMG! Freddie’s proposed! 😊 Fiona: OMG! Congratulations! Dora: He actually got down on one knee and produced a ring! Fiona: When’s the date? Fiona: BTW, I’ve got news too.Dora: August 2026.Dora: Just noticed your other text. You mean you and Julian?Fiona: Guess who’s getting married in 12 months.Fiona: Crossed texts again.Dora: How did he ask you?Fiona: It was so corny. He said he always knew I was Miss Right but how did I fancy being Mrs Wright.Dora: Lad jokes. And technically you’re Miss Lang.Dora: St...

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A Pair of Blue Eyes

Weekly Contest #303

Ivy is seventeen the first time she sees Alec. She and Renee have finished their shift at the cotton mill and are walking home together when they see the crowd of people gathered round a man on a stool in the park. They stop to watch, and Renee lets out a giggle. “He’s having his hair cut, Ivy! Look!” Sure enough, the large gentleman on the stool is having his hair snipped away by a dashing young man with shiny scissors and the bluest eyes Ivy’s ever seen. With a flourish, the young man finishes his handiwork and then produces a little brush...

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Channelling Lizzie Bennet (and Bridget Jones)

Weekly Contest #299

The accident was definitely not Lucy’s fault. For one thing, the bad-tempered man in front of her hadn’t been looking where he was going; and for another, it was his coffee and not hers that she was now wearing on the front of the pristine white blouse she had selected for the early morning staff meeting.“Can’t you look where you’re going?” Mr Grumpy obviously thought it was her fault, not his. No apology. No “I’m sorry - can I pay for you to have that dry cleaned?”“It was your fault!” she replied spiritedly.“I hardly think so. I was just le...

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Green-Eyed Goddess

Weekly Contest #292

It was those green eyes that caught my attention the first time I noticed her. They were an incredible shade: almost khaki. Green eyes and long, white-blonde hair. Black jeans so tight they seemed like a second skin, and a loose-fitting black top. Striking – that was how people described her. I thought of her as Ella, my green-eyed goddess, in those first few weeks of dancing on a knife-edge between desire and despair.              I was nineteen at the time, fumbling my w...

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Secret Smile

Weekly Contest #292

Florence, in the Year of Our Lord, 1503:I have been commissioned to paint a portrait of Francesco del Giocondo’s wife, Lisa, once she is delivered of their second child. This is an honour indeed, for Mona Lisa is a Gherardini by birth and both families, although not wealthy, are well respected. However, the lady is not suited to her current condition for her face and hands are presently puffy and she finds it hard to heave herself from the couch on which she lies. Her little boy, Piero, is five and an angelic little cherub too! Signor del Gi...

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The Fairest of Them All

Weekly Contest #291

It was evening when I first saw her, but her beauty lit up the cottage like a blazing lantern. The seven of us were dirty and sweaty from toiling all day in the mine – tired too: it takes it out of you after a while – but our fatigue vanished when we beheld this lovely creature, curled up across several of our beds, dark hair fanned out over the pillow. Jon was the first to say anything. “A fairy – in our ‘ouse!” he breathed. Poor soul – he was dropped when he was a baby and he’s been a bit simple ever since. “Don’t ‘ee talk daft!” Gort ch...

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His Prized Possession

Weekly Contest #290

The bitter cold of winter seeps into my skin as I struggle through the snow, the child in my belly weighing me down so that I slip and stumble. I cannot turn back: my father’s house is a prison and he my gaoler. And if the babe-to-be-born is female, as I suspect…              Far off in the distance lies the safety of the village. I know not if the stagecoach has already arrived to take Jem to the London docks and the transportation ship that awaits him there. If so, I wil...

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Running Late

Weekly Contest #290

My phone pings as I leave the office. A message from Jenny. Table booked at the Bella Vista for 7pm. Don’t be late.              Ordinarily, I’d enjoy the prospect of Italian food, followed by a night of dancing at Jimmy’s – the hot, new nightclub that’s just opened in town. But today just happens to be my birthday – a fact I haven’t shared with Jenny and Amanda, my housemates for the past three weeks.            ...

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Eyes You Could Drown In

Weekly Contest #290

Lizzie’s father, Josiah, unties his neckerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead. She knows he’s trying to ignore the perspiration dripping down his back as he winds the rack and pinion to lift the paddle which will allow water to drain from the lock, bringing them downhill. It should be her brother, Daniel, doing this and Joss should be leading the horse, but Dan has a sore head from a surfeit of ale last night and her da doesn’t trust him to do the job properly. He could ask Lizzie, but she’s as slender as Dan is stocky – although rec...

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Tempus Fugitive

Weekly Contest #289

This neighborhood definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Amidst towering skyscrapers and opulent hotels, a squat grey building of only three stories sat looking as out of place as a dowdy aunt at the Oscar awards. Samantha Reilly checked her GPS once more: this was definitely the right place. Exiting her car, she made her way towards the unassuming looking structure, her mind running over the letter she’d recently received. “If you want information about the downtown killings, come to this address.” It was years since anyone had put pe...

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If I Fell...

Weekly Contest #287

The smell of sawdust assaults Arthur’s nostrils as he waits patiently for the high wire act to finish. His face is hot beneath the white greasepaint that hides his handsome face and his heart thumps wildly as he gazes upwards. One of the tightrope walkers stumbles and sways and the crowd gasps, holding its breath lest the diminutive man falls. He won’t, of course: Pippo is one of the most talented acrobats in the business. He may be small in stature, but his talent is gigantic. He is the brother of Lorenzo, the circus ringmaster, and the hus...

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