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Katherine Howell

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2026

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18 Stories

475 karma pts

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What I Remember

Weekly Contest #353

I was there when all of them first arrived. I had never felt so free. It was in all the curves of myself, wherever I flowed, whenever I wished. I was both wide and narrow, gushing and growing in the spring, and then narrowing and disappearing in the heat. I ran and skipped over rocks and stones and roots and mud, smoothing and tumbling over them with joy. They tickled my underbelly as I pressed over them, carrying them with me as far as I could to their different destinations if they asked. Nobody told me that I was too much or too little. T...

14 likes 8 comments 8
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The Meaning of Grey

Weekly Contest #352

The curtains that hung from the ceilings were a simple grey. Not the silver that sometimes comes from the moon’s light at the right angle. Nor was it the dark ash that comes after the fire has burnt too low in the hearth. A plain, simple, everyday grey. The sort of grey that suggested a life half-lived at best, a poor melancholy resignation to oneself. Dreary and drab, the curtains dimmed the already dark room. The isolation reflected in the grey of the—They were cheaper. Or maybe the author just needed to pick a color for the scene and felt...

11 likes 13 comments 13
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Villain of Your Story

Weekly Contest #351

Blink. Blink. Blink.I watch the black line appear and disappear over and over. Hi. You may have heard of me. I’m Jason. Actually, I was initially Benjamen. Before that I was NEEDS A NAME. Before even that I was a scribbled half-note on a dirty napkin, born from the genius of our wonderful creator.You promised me I would be important. Vital. Maybe with gorgeous flowing dark hair down to my neck and pectorals the size of rocks. What happened? You forgot about me. Me. You went with Xadian or Xaniver or Dark One or whatever his name is now. Or ...

16 likes 12 comments 12
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My Perfect Crime

Weekly Contest #350

I should’ve known it would come to this. I am not made for jail. My mother always used to say so. But—of course! I am a perfectionist. My father always used to say so. So, between the two, perhaps this will be possible!I have read many books on the matter… how hard can this be? Normally they all have teams though. However, they are often betrayed at the end, so my solo act might actually be the better approach. I wonder why they have not tried that. That said, even the best solo acts have their limits and require support. All I need is a wel...

4 likes 7 comments 7
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The Murder

Weekly Contest #349

A murder of crows used to mean something else. The order to kill them was given on a Tuesday. We thought it would be enough. Instead, the insects came back first.The term used most widely in the papers, reports, and news was a culling. The environmental agencies called it a massacre. The avian flu strain had been one of the deadliest in recent history. It had been isolated, at least initially, to crows. Why only crows was anyone’s guess, but they were the unlucky hosts the virus had chosen. They had been dropping left and right, and scientis...

14 likes 10 comments 10
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The Hunt

Weekly Contest #348

A week. Seven days exactly. That is how long we had been tracking the species when we finally caught the first real sign of it. We had heard rumors, of course, and studied the data, but potentially finally seeing the real thing was another matter entirely.We had prepared the weapons for the hunt. We were not sure if they would be necessary, but when the species one is chasing has such theoretically dangerous defensive mechanisms, it would be unwise not to. The species had long been labeled as highly territorial, frequently encroaching and ta...

24 likes 16 comments 16
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Squirrel Expectations

Weekly Contest #347

Don’t feed the squirrels. Who hasn’t heard that before? It is such a simple rule, and yet it once changed the course of the world forever.I had heard that rule ever since I was a young child. It was posted on every sign in every park across the city. The way it was repeated by both signage and my parents, you would think it was the most important rule of my life—especially when entering a park.That day, when I entered Trident Park, I passed by the first of many signs as I usually did. I hardly gave them a glance. They were everywhere, after ...

7 likes 2 comments 2
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No Place Like Home

Weekly Contest #346

I take the coffee from the barista and am immediately disappointed to discover it tastes just like regular Earth coffee. I had hoped for maybe something themed like the foam on top glowing bright red or the freeze-dried stuff the Smithsonian gift shop sold back at home. Nope. The coffee tastes exactly the same 140 million miles from Earth. Even the sleeve around the cup is the same, except for a tiny astronaut logo where a mermaid normally might have been. If I didn’t know any better, I would say it was coffee that had been pre-brewed back o...

10 likes 9 comments 9
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A Stroll Down Memory Lane (Observation Only)

Weekly Contest #346

John walked toward Gate 4: Personal Turning Points. Beneath the large glowing sign, smaller text read: Remember observation only. You are not really there. He had read that rule on the pamphlet, and then again on the signs posted on both doors to the terminal, and then at least five more times in the terminal itself. They were on screens, notice boards, and etched into glass panels positioned every few feet. The company seemed very insistent on drilling this fact into its customers’ brains. His friend Tim had insisted that the experience wor...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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The Last Day

Weekly Contest #345

My great-great grandpapa once said that when everything is crashing around you, everything becomes a suitcase or a briefcase. The one container that is truly yours and will always be with you. He had lived during the Great Depression, so I always took that saying with a grain of salt. Surely it meant something different back then, when few had a little and everyone else had nothing. He was full of profound sayings like that. The cardboard box was waiting on my desk. I began to pack up all the pieces of my life. Of course, I also had a briefc...

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The (Completely) True Adventures of 17B

Weekly Contest #345

Seat 17B was located somewhere between tragedy and the valley of death. Continue walking until you see human dignity. Then keep going. Take a left. A person could sit there, technically. A human body would fit. The promotional airline posters confirmed such, featuring a perfect smiling family who looked like they were on a Disney cruise. Even the baby was smiling. Correction: an average human of average size and height. She had been told on multiple occasions that she fitted this definition. She had learned valuable lessons over her many mil...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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I Hate Cake

Weekly Contest #344

I hate cake. I said it once when I was maybe six or seven. The frosting was too sweet and the colors far too bright for my liking as it sat in a neatly woven basket. The cake blade cut through so cleanly, and without a single trace remaining. The crumbs had stuck to my gloves, and I had to shake them off. I did not want them to leave any stains. I did not know that sentences could have a gift for traveling beyond your lips and taking on lives of their own. The tutors in the palace did not teach me that.“That didn’t happen,” my old governess ...

17 likes 12 comments 12
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The City Burned Anyway

Weekly Contest #344

I am the most beautiful woman in the world. This is not a boast. I don’t mean it in a vain way, nor in the hyperbolic way the poets do. It is simply tragically and completely true. It is what was decided. A thousand ships were sent for me once, or so they say. Yes—I know, I know—but we must begin with the ships. Always the ships. Although, it was more like a hundred or so. I counted each one as they arrived on the shores from my tower. Not all were warships. Some were merchant ships that had clearly been recently repurposed. One still had a ...

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The Pink God

Weekly Contest #343

The Pink God suddenly appeared from the skies, and the cathedral went dark. Then, just as quickly, the skies shone bright once more.“Why are you marrying your cousin?” The question came from the third pew. Viola looked up. “I’m not. Azrael is my cousin. Elijah is my lover.”“No. Elijah is your cousin. Azrael is your lover.”Viola went to shake her head but, sure enough, it was true. She knew it in her gut.“Don’t you hate him?” another voice called out from the sides. Viola shook her head again. “Why would I hate him?”“Because of the pregnancy....

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Airborne Adventures

Weekly Contest #343

Today, we are going to see our best friend. We picked out a good gift, and wrapped it crisply with the silver paper that shines like a mirror. We even added the more expensive black ribbons that curl in tight rolls when stretched with scissors for flair. We headed outside; it’s a beautiful crisp day, the kind that makes anything feel possible—or would at least make for a nice golf game—with a mild breeze coming from the west. I wonder what—A-CHOO!!The adventure begins as I am shot out with the force of an unstoppable phone update. For a dizz...

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