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Lisanne Johnson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2025

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22 Followers
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4 Stories

106 karma pts

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The Fourth Place Setting

Weekly Contest #355

Mysteries may unfold or unravel at a moment’s notice or may intensify in depth until they are barely solvable. — The Narrator This was the time and place for all of their problems to wash away — like the Long Island high tide scouring the beach and all traces of footprints, caved-in sandcastles, and chunks of reddish-brown seaweed. Michael knew in his heart, as he watched the sun start to illuminate the sky with vibrant reds, pinks, and yellows, that soon the relationship with his wife Lauren would be aglow as well. All they needed was some ...

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Crossing the Causeway

Weekly Contest #341

I cannot believe I am actually returning to Sanibel Island, and in fact crossing the causeway — a symbolic bridge to my old life, in which I had long ago said goodbye. I swore to myself I would never look back, yet somehow my never-ceasing empathic nature is replacing my decades-old promise. Perhaps it is growing up on Sanibel Island that ignited my empathic and nurturing nature — that, and my alcoholic, anger-driven, and dominating excuse for a father.I believe the empathy my father should have had got buried, little by little, throughout h...

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The Unnatural Tree

Weekly Contest #340

The Unnatural Tree “No, Kiki! That is not a toy!” Mommy carried me away (again — highly disappointed) from the large tree covered in dangling, jingling, shiny toys that I am apparently not allowed to touch. It looks like a tree anyway, although it does not smell or taste like one. She placed me gently next to her on her favorite daytime bed that faces the tree. Mommy never stays mad at me for very long. I do not understand why Mommy and Daddy would place a tree in our home that I cannot bite, pull, or scratch. Why would they attach all o...

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Echoes of Toby

Weekly Contest #313

There, in the gloomy and dark grey distance, twisting and rotating with ferocious strength, spun two terrifying tornadoes! One tornado was slightly smaller and thinner; the one on the right side, however, both seemed to be dancing and twirling to a tune only they could understand. It was a tune—no, a band—a live band, created with drums (the pounding thunder), trumpets and horn instruments (the piercing shrill of the wind), and also an electric guitar (the crackling, sizzling bursts of lightning). As the “music” and shrieking storm reache...

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