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Kathleen March

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (405)

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405 Stories

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Can’t scare me…

You can’t scare me. You said that in a tone of voice that told me you were laughing at me while denying my right to resist your arrogant dare. You’ve always thought you were better than me. You’re brave. Nothing frightens you. That’s what you think, at least. I can’t scare you? Oh yes I can. I have receipts and I’m coming for you. I’ve been mentored by Edgar Allan Poe himself. The master. Don’t say I haven’t been under his wing because he’s long gone, because you have no idea of what our relationship is. He might not be one of the goriest wr...

2 likes

Yeah

a character who can’t tell the difference between their dreams and reality 23rd Psalm, also known as the Lord’s Prayer: 1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. I feel very safe, very loved. Knowing there is a higher being who will protect me, who is in fact protecting me, is so comforting. I shall not want, meaning I will not need anything; I will have enough. Enough food, a roof over my head, a job, friends and family. Life will be good, always. Life is good right now. It is wonderful to have these things. There is peace in the world, ...

3 likes

Walking on water

She was working again on translations of Galician literature, when it occurred to her to try a familiar poem. What follows has been taken from her journal, so it is just a few ideas jotted down casually, of little value to anyone beyond herself. The journal […………….] Pasa, pasa caladiño, Có teu manso rebulir, Camiño dó mar salado, Camiño dó mar sin fin, E leva estas lagrimiñas Si as de chegar por ali Pretiño dos meus amores Pretiño dó meu vivir. Ay! quen lagrimiña fora! Prá ir meu ben unda tí... Quen fixera un camiñiño Para pasar, ay de mi...

4 likes

The ritual thing to do

I refused to sign. You looked at me and asked, your head turned away (probably to keep me from seeing the tear slipping down your left cheek; you were driving and I was your passenger): “Where did I go wrong?” I will tell you what my answer was a bit further on. I am a bad daughter, I know. Or at least a daughter with a guilty conscience. I chose to tell the truth when I should have lied to you, maybe. What were the consequences of my choice not to sign the paper you had passed over to me while driving? What if I had signed it? You certainly...

2 likes

Giving up is hard to do

I’m so heartbroken, but I should have known the relationship would end this way, that it was bound to end. Once upon a time it was a great relationship and it seemed - to me at least - that it would last forever… forever! Oh, the power of love, whether it be blind or not… You see, I once believed everything I was told. Even my parents approved. No, it was more than that - they even encouraged the relationship, they left it to me like it was an inheritance. They were, in fact, nearly penniless, yet they worshipped this thing that had given th...

2 likes

Flipping the script

Things are getting bad, really bad. Nobody is able to understand what is going on. Nobody is allowed now to ask questions. That doesn’t matter, because nobody dares to question anything anyway. “Question” - whether a noun or a verb - is simply off the table. If you are walking down the street, sitting on the grass in the park, or having your favorite latte and overhear the word, first you will cringe, or wince, and then you will do everything in your power to get far away from it. “Question” is, plain and simple, not something you need or wa...

3 likes

Walking

Tonight I find myself thinking about a path. It might be secret, or magical, or both. Heaven knows how many of them there are in childhood, in the books we read. (Yes, I grew up reading books, real ones, most from the town library. There were so many paths to follow through those pages. So many words to traverse, bridges, steppingstones, dried ruts in country roads. All magically absent from my hands, because the books were returned to the library and because I grew up and moved on. Down paths of my own.) Now I ponder those paths, some leadi...

2 likes

Holding the Dark

Cando penso que te fuches,Negra sombra que m'asombras,Ô pe d'os meus cabezalesTornas facéndome mofa. Cando maxino qu'és idaN'ò mesmo sol te m'amostras,Y eres á estrela que brila,Y eres ò vento que zoa. Si cantan, ês ti que cantas;Si choran, ês ti que choras,Y ês o marmurio d'o rioY ês á noite y és á aurora. En todo estás e ti ès todo,Pra min y en min mesmo moras,Nin m'abandonarás nunca,Sombra que sempre m'asombras Just when I think you’ve gone,Black haze that amazes me,Back you come to the head of my bedBack again to daze me. Just when I thi...

3 likes

The Assignment

Class time would be over in five minutes. The writing assignment she gave her students that day was to write a story that included either the line “I don’t belong here” or the line “Don’t mind me.” It didn’t sound all that difficult, she thought. Short lines, from a personal perspective. Around a thousand words, unless the response was a poem, in which case the student would need to talk it over with her. After everyone had left the classroom, however, the Professor began to wonder if anybody would notice the reason for juxtaposing the two l...

3 likes

Whose? (R)

Intro to the story: These were the instructions, the prompt. I tried to do as told: “Tell a story in the form of a police report, news article, or journal entry about an incredible (or impossible) event.” The story: Lavinia took a new journal with a deep reddish, berry wine cover from her bookshelf, admired the hand-embossed cover for a moment and opened it for the first time. It was from one of the street vendors from the casco vello, the old part, of Santiago. She didn’t buy often from the stalls, but enjoyed the probably unhealthy scent o...

6 likes

Truth be told

I’ve been keeping this secret so long now that I pretty much have decided it’s not true. There is no secret. There’s nothing to be revealed. Even if there were, it’s nothing anybody wants to hear about. So I’m not going to tell anybody anything. I’m not stupid. I don’t want people to think badly of me. I declare that nobody think ill of me. I’ll probably put that in writing tomorrow or at least no longer than two weeks from now. I never lie, so you can count on it. My word is worth its weight in gold. In case you were wondering - and many pe...

3 likes

Changes

It's been a longA long time coming, but I knowA change gon' comeOh yes, it will ~ Sam Cooke We all meet someone who changes our lives, maybe more than one person changes our life, maybe each change leads us in a different direction. There’s nothing strange about this. What I wonder, though, is why we let those changes happen, why we meet some (many) people and they just bounce off of us. Then others permeate every molecule and start to push (or pull) us here, there, anywhere but where we are. What makes some people so important, but also w...

3 likes

And still I rise…

You may shoot me with your words,You may cut me with your eyes,You may kill me with your hatefulness,But still, like air, I’ll rise. That’s a quote from one of my favorite poems, the one by Maya Angelou. I don’t know if she was thinking about me when she wrote it, but I like to think so. Like me, she shows resilience, and that is a good thing to have nowadays. It’s exhausting trying to survive in this world. Not that it was ever easy, but when you were dealing with Greeks and Romans, those empire builders, you knew what you were getting. Bat...

4 likes

Soft lemons

A soft lemon scent, flavor in the air. You are stepping down from the sidewalk onto the green. You know immediately where you are. The coast of Cordes-sur-ciel, far from Maine. You’d know those bees anywhere. They sip and persist. It’s the buzzing you can’t resist because you’ve heard it all before and before that was the wrapping of some wings around the hot, stealthy breeze. You stop, mid-step. This cannot possibly be southern France. You sniff again and find the underbelly of the heart leaves by extending your search, your hands in charge...

4 likes

Sounds of silence

Who are you? Who talks like you do, or writes about the world of nature as if it could speak? Do you really hear plants and birds and spring waters holding conversations? Nobody’s going to believe that story. Oh, right, when you go by, as if you had extraordinary powers, as if you knew secret languages, as if you could perceive beauty nobody else can see. You are able to hear the world, but your special ability isn’t what you think, is it? You see and hear, but your skill isn’t able to overcome time, and your dreams will get you nowhere. Yo...

3 likes