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Mariyam G

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories
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753 Followers
662 Following

6 Stories

1229 karma pts

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Genesis Zero: Seeds of Desperation

Desperation takes away any space for grief, any pause to breathe or look around. It presses in on the ribs, narrowing thought into a single point. And sacrifice always follows it — a sacrifice of peace of mind, of stability, of the soft comfort of not knowing what comes next. A surrender of the freedom that comes with uncertainty. A privilege in a sense. Just take these trees that surround us. You can feel it if you stand close enough — the rough bark warming under late-season sun, the faint sweetness of fruit hanging heavy in the air. When...

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Genesis-Zero: Extraction

The alarms began as a low vibration beneath my feet, a tremor that shivered through the colossal bones of the HelixCore Spire like the first breath of something ancient waking from sleep. The floor — a vast expanse of polished obsidian composite — hummed with a rising frequency, and the air thickened with the metallic tang of ozone. Then the sirens erupted, a deep, resonant howl that rolled through the corridors in waves, bouncing off monoliths of steel and glass that stretched upward into darkness so high the ceiling was lost in shadow. Th...

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Fruit-Adjacent Matters

A mind of their own they have. How shameless. I only came out here to grab some fruit. Something quick, something easy- a peach, maybe, or whatever was closest. But somehow my feet carried me further than I meant to go, past the neat little rows of things I’m comfortable handling, all the way to the fig tree at the back. I don’t even like figs that much. Or at least that’s what I tell myself, the same way I tell myself I’m not thinking about all the things I’m supposed to be doing- which is laughable, considering the mental gymnastics I’ve b...

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Infestation

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of illness, body horror, hallucination, and self-harm. The old architect had fingers like twisted roots, knuckles swollen from decades of clutching pencils too tightly. He’d lean over his drafting table in the university’s studio, lips moving silently as he sketched, as if whispering secrets to the lines taking shape under his hand. Adrien watched him sometimes from the back of the room, the way the man’s shoulders hunched forward like a question mark, like his spine had given up trying to hold hi...

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The Weight of Blossoms

The award sat somewhere in Emily's chest- not as triumph, but as weight. She had accepted it with both hands, smiled at the right moments, said the right things into the microphone. The applause had been warm and genuine, and she had hated herself a little for wanting to disappear into it rather than stand in it. So when the formal presentations dissolved into cocktail chatter and the room filled with the particular noise of people congratulating themselves on having attended something significant, she picked up her bouquet and walked. She...

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This Living Grave

Content Warning: Contains claustrophobic imagery, intense psychological distress, and unsettling bodily descriptions. This skin I wear… it clings to me. A wretched thing. It scowls, yet tightens its grip- like a blanket left to mildew in the rain, steeped in stains no water could lift. I catch my reflection as I pass the stacked shops. My eyes gape like gutted windows, carcasses of themselves- frames where something used to look back. Not human exactly, but something with a sliver of pride, a flicker of warmth. Something I can’t seem to fin...

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