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Jane Andrews

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

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539 Followers
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93 Stories

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Doctoring the Truth

Weekly Contest #105

Snip! Snip! Snip! My long, dark tresses fall to the floor. My mother continues until my hair is shorn as short as any boy’s. “Put your brother’s old clothes on now,” she says, handing over a shirt and breeches. I look at my mother. We both know this is the only way for a woman to train as a doctor in 1809, but I am twenty years old and not flat-chested enough to pass scrutiny as a man. “I’ll bandage your breasts,” my mother says hurriedly. By the time we have finished, Margaret Ann Bulkley has been transformed into James Miranda Barry, an i...

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Unequilateral Triangle

Weekly Contest #105

You gaze at the man lying next to you – the perfect husband; the father of your children – and suddenly you realise that you don’t know him at all. She wasn’t prying when she discovered the email. He’d left his laptop lying open again and she went to shut it, before the kids could touch something and delete an important work file – and that’s when she saw it. It’s so hard not having you here all the time. When you come round, I think this is what life is supposed to be like, and then you hurry away at the end of the evening and I’m all alo...

20 likes 3 comments 3
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Waiting for Rachmaninoff

Weekly Contest #103

Alyssa has always heard music when she looks at people. One of her earliest memories is of gazing up at her mother and hearing a vibrant, comforting melody that she will much later identify as Grieg’s Morning. The notes and her mother are both full of optimism and joy: they wrap around her as she falls asleep at night and lift her spirits when she feels sad. Her father sounds like Grieg too, although as she grows older, she will always associate his more menacing presence with In The Hall Of The Mountain King.      &...

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Love Waits Patiently

Weekly Contest #101

Winter mist weaves around me, threading its way in and out of trees and gravestones, incorporating everything into a pattern of death. Night has begun to fall: the soft, muted tones of twilight are gradually replaced with darker shades until the whole sky is tinted with ebony and even the stars seem unable to pierce the pervading darkness. In the stillness of the cemetery, not a sound can be heard apart from the frantic hammering of my own heart as I wait, alone, to see what will happen next. He said he would be here. My breath escapes in ra...

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Eel Stew

Weekly Contest #100

Wind howled at the widows and rain lashed down, but inside the manor, Sir Richard and his family were snug and dry. A log fire burned in the grate, and that – added to the rich tapestries on the walls – lent a sense of warmth to the oak-ceilinged great hall. At Sir Richard’s feet, his children fidgeted, impatient for the evening’s entertainment to begin. Little Tom was desperate to see the juggler: last time, the man had juggled with oranges, then eggs, then finally daggers, catching each one deftly whilst Tom and his sisters watched wide-e...

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Happy/Ever After

Weekly Contest #95

“Granny, do you think I should marry Roger?” Ella’s grandmother looks up from her knitting and regards her granddaughter. “Has he asked you?” Life has never seemed brighter since the day Ella and Roger first saw each other. Happiness cast a golden glow around the young couple as their eyes met across the room in a crowded KFC; the clamour of the customers sounded sweeter than birdsong; and even the pouring rain outside couldn’t dampen their delight at having found each other. It seemed like the perfect fairy tale – but happy endings rare...

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Willie Tall-Tales

Weekly Contest #88

There was once a boy and his name was Will. He lived with his grandmother in a tiny cottage in a village in Ireland, and the tales that boy could tell! “Why are you late for school, Willie?” the schoolmaster would ask. And Will would make his eyes big and round as he replied that he had been on his way to school, but the Little Folk had enticed him to play truant and spend the day skipping about the meadows with them instead. Or his grandmother would want to know where he had been all day when she sent him for a pail of buttermilk at firs...

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The Wolf Princess

Weekly Contest #86

In a land far away, where the sun always shone in summer and the snow was crisp and cold in winter, a man and his wife were making their way through the forest in a light carriage drawn by two coal black horses. Moonlight gleamed through the bare branches of the trees; and in the distance, the faint howl of a wolf floated on the still night air. Then twigs cracked as a large, bearded man stepped through the beeches and approached the conveyance.              The horses pul...

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Rock-a-Bye Baby

Weekly Contest #85

TW: infant death As soon as I see the antique cradle, I know I have to have it. “Look, honey,” I say excitedly to my husband, pointing to the laptop screen. “Won’t this be perfect for the baby?” “Local estate sales,” he reads out loud. “Sweetheart, I thought we agreed we were going to go with a bassinet. My mom’s already picked out one she wants to buy for us.” “But this one’s so pretty,” I argue. “It’s solid oak and it dates back to the 1880s. And think how much the baby will love the rocking motion.” I can tell by his face that he’s not co...

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Saint Aidan and the Strömkarl

Weekly Contest #83

As the mournful sound of a violin floated across the water, Brigid turned to her sweetheart. “Will you hear that?” she asked him. Donal looked at her blankly. “Sure, and isn’t that the most lovely music!” she replied, letting go of his hand and following the haunting strain. Mist descended over the lake, a fine, grey, cobwebby thing that hid the shadowy figure with the violin. Thin, bony fingers clutched the bow and stroked the strings until they moaned; and as each note rose into the air, the wind grew colder until the lake began to fre...

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Ten Seconds of Eternity

Weekly Contest #74

“The first step,” the salesperson said smoothly, “is to choose which of our ‘Afterlife’ packages best suits your needs.”                Gavin stared at the bewildering array of thumbnails in front of him: ‘Millennium Plus’, ‘Ten Perfect Months’ and ‘The Best Ten Minutes Ever’ were all equally baffling. “Perhaps you could walk me through some of your best sellers?” he hazarded.                “C...

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Where There's A Will (Part Three)

Blanche Sheringham sank down upon the bed in the chamber she had retreated to, shaking with fear. She realised now that she was in a more perilous situation than she would have been had she remained alone on the moor. Henry Devereaux, the man who had seemed so kind and courteous, was not her host but her captor. Oh, he had not said so, but his implication had been clear when he had commented that they had “all the time in the world to get to know each other.” She shivered, thinking of the number of times his fingers had already stroked her s...

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Where There's A Will (Part Two)

Blanche wondered if she were dreaming. Not only had her brother, Richard, attempted to make her the prize in a game of dice, but she was now being carried to the stables so that she could escape the fate awaiting her. Will spoke urgently, his breath hot against her ear. “You can’t stay here, Blanche. Your brother won’t take no for an answer: he doesn’t care who has you as long as he doesn’t need to be responsible for you anymore.” They had reached the stables. Will set her down gently, still hanging onto her. “Are you strong enough to ride...

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Where There's A Will (Part One)

Josiah gripped the pen feebly in his right hand, ink spattering across the page. With a supreme effort, he dragged the nib into something resembling his signature, then sank back onto his pillows, defeated. “Fetch the boy,” he croaked hoarsely. But by the time the servants had dragged Master Richard from his gaming table, the old man was already dead. * Blanche sat, statue-like, at the polished mahogany table, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing. Her father had left the estate to Richard – well, that was to be expected since he...

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Ellie’s in Wonderland

Weekly Contest #56

Ellie gazed about her with exasperation. She had travelled almost a hundred miles to come and visit her friend in the care home – sitting for almost forty minutes in non-moving traffic whilst muttering to herself, “Oh dear! I shall be late!” – and now Violet seemed to be asleep. She looked once more at the slumbering form, slumped in an armchair and surrounded by other, equally dotty, old people. Should she try to wake her? Was it like waking a sleeping baby who would cry for hours on end once its dreams were disturbed? “She’ll be out for ...

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