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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2021
Submitted to Contest #306
CONTENT WARNING FOR HOMOPHOBIA [ Play the game here —> https://jaythefirst.itch.io/egans-creek-simulator ]Rosie’s Diner and Bakery is world-famous for their cakes, shakes, and being the restaurant where Harry and Giselle broke up during the season finale of Project A-List, a trivia tidbit that places your otherwise unremarkable Midwest hometown on a smattering of road trip maps.Your father liked to joke that nobody drives to Egan’s Creek, only through Egan’s Creek. And he’s right, which is why you only agreed to stop here since you’re hea...
Winner of Contest #280 🏆
Hey, Tanner. It’s me again. Just checking in; I’ll try to keep it short. Was really missing you at our last game. Tony can’t catch for shit. Coach even asked him if he needed glasses, was genuinely worried about his depth perception being off or something. He’s a helluva runner, it’s why we wanted him, but man does he fumble hard. Got so frustrated watching him I almost slipped up and said that word again. You know, the one you always told me not to call people. I, uh, don’t talk like that anymore. In case you were wondering. Made a decision...
Winner of Contest #270 🏆
With the mission running long and no exfil in sight, there’s little for Valerian and Roman to do besides purchase too many groceries, hole up in the safehouse, and settle old bets. Val stands over the cracked electric stove, carefully stirring a pot of ukha. The delicate scent of herbs, spices, and freshwater fish spirals off the surface of the broth. It smells of home, and Val knows without looking that Roman is sprawled on the couch behind him. “Just be careful not to let the salmon overcook,” Roman calls out. What would be genuine advice ...
Submitted to Contest #239
When he asks to paint me, I readily agree—not out of vanity, or desire to be immortalized, but out of curiosity for him. I know how art is made, how the shape of the artist can be found like a shadow across the canvas. One can trace the outline, step behind their eyes, and see what they see for a brief, still moment captured in oil on canvas. Like a crystal lens, the artist is the focusing point of any piece, the fulcrum of reality and surreality. I settle on the chair in his studio, wondering how I should sit. What reality will I have him...
Shortlisted for Contest #189 ⭐️
They called him John, because he didn’t have a name. He’d been pulled from the Dusek estate during the raid, where he’d almost been shot because he refused to identify himself. Only later did they find out it was because he didn’t speak. Still, Ana finds there are plenty of other ways to learn about John and his past. On the drive to the ward, Ana sneaks several glances at him in the rearview, watching as he stares out the windows, wide-eyed, like he’s never seen the city before. When they arrive, he’s shaking so badly that Ana has to call ...
Submitted to Contest #169
The town guard calls it the graveyard shift, because everyone knows the most dangerous things in the dark are the dead ones. Hamlin has never found the joke funny, and especially not tonight with the rain and thunder making it difficult to see or hear much of anything as he makes his rounds. As he passes by the cemetery, he feels his shoulders grow tense. The rain and crushing darkness obscure his view, making it impossible to tell if anything is amiss or not. After a long moment of introspection and more than one prayer, Hamlin unlatches t...
Submitted to Contest #160
Content warning: drug use, child abuse Jin flinches when the kettle starts to shriek. He’s not familiar with the sound—when has he ever used a kettle?—and in his current state of tension, the shrill noise feels like claws piercing his eardrums. Fortunately, Arav is quick to take the kettle off the woodburning stove, handle wrapped in a thick woven mat of some kind. He doesn’t notice Jin’s startled wince, or if he does, he’s being unusually tactful about it. “Have you ever had ojanis or moonflower in tea form?” the truthwitch asks, casual, ...
Submitted to Contest #151
Content Warning: Mentioned suicide attempt, mental health issues, character death It’s the first day of the new year, and Jasper wakes up in a bed that is not his own.The first thing that registers is the cold, and when he reaches for Charlie’s warmth his fingers instead meet a cool plaster wall. He jerks upright, alarmed and confused, and almost falls out of a bed that is far smaller than what he’s used to. He blinks the sleep from his eyes as he adjusts to the dim light. He’s in a dark room hung with posters and sticky notes.His room.Th...
Submitted to Contest #140
When she kills me a third time, I start to take it personally. She knows how much energy I need to recreate myself. My fourth body in as many days is gaunt, all angles and harsh lines. I’m nearing my limit.So I run. It won’t stop her, not if she actually, truly intends to kill me, but it could buy me enough time to come up with a plan.I leave the country stowed away on a steamboat, having bribed the dockhands with the local currency. Money is easy to create and I won’t miss the speck of power it requires.I wake up the next day in a bustling ...
Submitted to Contest #131
Keeva found the dead man first. Melara could tell she’d picked up the scent by the way she extended her neck, suddenly keen on the trampled path of snow they were following.“Show me,” Melara said, and the leopard bounded ahead.Melara followed more slowly, less sure-footed in the deep snow than her silent companion. When she caught up, Keeva was digging in a snow drift. Melara’s heart sank. She’d been hoping whoever they’d been following had made it to safety, but she should have guessed from the blood spattered along the trail that things ha...
Winner of Contest #128 🏆
Content warning: Alcohol use, mild language, sexual themes, referenced sexual abuseWhen Bast hears the low groan from the bedroom, he quietly begins making tea. The motions are familiar, as soothing as the brew itself. He takes a handful of dried ironwort stalks down from the cupboard, the flower buds crinkling as he counts out six and returns the rest to the bundle.The floorboards creak with soft footsteps in the next room over.He fills a pot one-third of the way with water and adds the stalks whole. Some of them need to be folded in half t...
Submitted to Contest #102
TW: abuse, murder, violence Many have asked if I hold no regard for human life. My answer remains the same: Nothing could be further from the truth. Life is quite valuable. I’d be out of a job if it wasn’t. Every man has his price, as they say, though I suspect most mean it differently than I. Life, death, and the gold in between are my specialties. Today, things are complicated. My client meets me in the Warrens, the ramshackle neighborhood thrown together out of driftwood and spare cloth and no small amount of mud. There’s a dugout that ac...
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