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M.G. Davis

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025

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4 Stories

49 karma pts

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The Hair of the Ghost Stallion

Weekly Contest #361

Prologue The ghost watches his granddaughter, Elowen, five years old, sobbing as she lies in her bed. The news of his death has just been delivered to her. His heart—his metaphorical one, as he is nothing more than a specter now—shatters in his chest. He reaches toward her face and brushes a tear away. A blue glow emanates from the tear track, and the ghost stumbles away, startled. It enters her deep, dark eyes, and in a moment, her irises have turned periwinkle; that, and the girl has stopped crying. “That’s very interesting,” comes a voice...

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Margie McGill: The Second Case

Weekly Contest #347

I stalk the outside of the building. I have spent days upon days tracking footprints—digital and physical—to arrive here. This is it. This is where I’ll find him. It’s an abandoned church building, which isn’t what I was expecting. This man, Jeremiah Kelly, stole a one-of-a-kind watch from my client, who was crying and ranting about it being a family heirloom. The cops had told her that there was no possible way to track down a watch. But I did. That’s why she came to me, a private investigator. It was easy, actually. Especially because my c...

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Mr. Gringott’s Case

Trigger Warning: Discussion of death Mr. Gringott sat on his front porch, rocking back and forth in his wooden chair. He held a small book in his hands—either a grill’s instruction manual or an album of his photos with his late wife (there was not an in-between)—but his eyes were closed, his head tilted back as he tried to get a Sunday afternoon nap. He was still wearing his fancy church clothes: a blazer and slacks. Just as he was drifting off, a brilliant light burst behind his eyelids. Mr. Gringott’s eyes flew open, but no matte...

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Y2K As Imagined by a Gen Z

Weekly Contest #285

“You do know the world’s about to end, right?” Steph says, her eyes wild and wide, as I flip through the most recent fashion magazine. I scoff, cocking an eyebrow. I meet my little half-sister’s blue gaze and watch as she pulls her unruly, coiled black hair back into a ponytail. There’s one stray piece that hangs down over her left eye like always. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff.” ”Evie,” she says, sitting next to me on the couch, “maybe the world ending is an exaggeration. But…” She huffs. “We don’t know what will happ...

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