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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2022
The haunting began long before I knew what to call it.It started as a feeling—an ache without a wound, a pressure behind the ribs that flared whenever the tide rolled in heavy and low, as if the ocean itself were breathing against my chest. I would wake in the night tasting salt on my tongue, my dreams full of blue distances and voices I could never quite reach. Sometimes I heard my name spoken by someone who loved me deeply, desperately, though I had no memory of who they were. Other times, I woke with tears already drying on my cheeks, mou...
Weekly Contest #335
The Gift That Waited Living in Limbo is a very strange thing.Jonah had written that once, though the moment of its birth had rotted away like an old tooth loosened by time. The notebook that held the poem was soft with age, its pages swollen and buckled from Valenmoor’s damp air. He carried it everywhere, tucked inside his coat, fingers brushing it unconsciously as though checking for a pulse that never answered.Valenmoor itself felt unfinished, like a thought abandoned mid-sentence. The city existed in a perpetual twilight where the sky nev...
Weekly Contest #334
What the Fog Remembers No one can agree on when the story began. It was never written down properly. There are gaps in the church records where names should be, and a year missing entirely from the village census. What remains are inconsistencies—half-remembered warnings, murmured rules, and the way people lower their voices when Brackenveil is mentioned at all. Most will tell you it is only a forest. Those who hesitate before answering know better. Brackenveil stands beyond the last fence at the edge of the village, where the road thins an...
Weekly Contest #333
Looking into my childhood, there are many memories with tales to tell, lessons to teach, and wonderful stories to pass down through future generations. But there is one memory that is so full of love, compassion and the spirit of giving that it has a magical quality. This memory enriches the soul with inspiration, courage, and wisdom. One is reminded that love has the power to work miracles and create magical memories that can be called upon in times of trouble. This particular memory has served me well, so I want to share this gift of love ...
Weekly Contest #332
The storm did not begin with thunder. It began with a whisper. Mara was alone on the hillside, cutting herbs for her mother’s remedies. The sky had been clear moments earlier, a lazy blue stretching over the valley. Now clouds gathered over the ridge, coiling inward like a hand preparing to close into a fist. She heard the voice before she saw the storm—soft, curling through the grass like smoke. “Child… come closer…” Mara spun, basket pressed tight to her chest. No one stood behind her. Only the slow-building bruise of cloud overhead. Her b...
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