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Melinda Madrigal

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020

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171 Followers
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150 Stories

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THE THINGS WE LEAVE BEHIND

Weekly Contest #369

THE THINGS WE LEAVE BEHIND At 6:17 on a Tuesday morning, Hallie Bennett decided to leave her entire life behind. Not metaphorically. Not in the dramatic, I-need-a-vacation sort of way her mother used whenever Hallie complained about work or loneliness or the fact that every Sunday dinner somehow ended with an argument about Hallie’s unmarried status. She meant everything. The house. The town. Her job at the library. The blue bicycle leaning against the garage. The friendship she carried since kindergarten. The coffee shop where the owner kne...

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THE LAST HOUR OF THE MOONLIT FOREST

Weekly Contest #368

THE LAST HOUR OF THE MOONLIT FOREST I have always hated weddings. Not because of love. Love is a beautiful thing. It makes mortals sing, dance, write terrible poetry, and occasionally wander into enchanted forests at midnight because someone told them their true love was waiting beneath an ancient oak. No. I hate weddings because they are terrible inconvenient. Especially when the bride is my best friend. Especially when the bride is human. And especially when I am a fairy who has been assigned the impossible task of making sure the wedding ...

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THE LAST HOUR BEFORE THE GATES OPEN

Weekly Contest #367

THE LAST HOUR BEFORE THE GATES OPEN. The old iron gate creaked in the breeze, though no one had touched it. Anna Carter stood with one hand wrapped around the weathered latch, looking past rows upon rows of apple trees whose branches shimmered beneath late September sun. The orchard smelled exactly as it had when she was ten years old-sweet apples, damp earth, cedar mulch, and the faint perfume of cinnamon drifting from the bakery that was already warming its ovens for the celebration. In exactly one hour, Carter Orchard would reopen after f...

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SEBASTIAN’S UNDERWATER ANTICS: THE CLAW THAT APPLAUDED ITSELF

Weekly Contest #366

SEBASTIANS UNDERWATER ANTICS THE CLAW THAT APPLAUDED ITSELF If there was one thing everyone in Coral Cove agreed on, it was this: Sebastian the crab was the funniest creature in the sea. If there were two things everyone agreed on, the second was this: Sebastian never stopped talking. Not during breakfast. Not during lunch. Not while escaping sharks. Especially not while escaping sharks. “I find near death experiences are much less stressful if everyone is laughing.” Sebastian liked to say. “If you’re screaming, you’re doing it wrong.” He wa...

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THE WHISPER THAT WOKE THE RIVER

Weekly Contest #365

THE WHISPER THAT WOKE THE RIVER “Did you hear they finally found Evelyn Carter?” Mara Bennett hadn’t meant for anyone else in the diner to hear her. She’d only leaned across the booth toward her oldest friend, Rachel, lowering her voice as the coffee steamed between them. “I don’t know if it’s true,” Mara added quickly. “Someone told me they found a box of her things near Miller’s Creek.” Rachel frowned. “Who told you?” Mara hesitated. “I… don’t actually remembered.” That wasn’t entirely true. She remembered hearing it at the town library th...

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THE LAST SISTER

Weekly Contest #364

THE LAST SISTERThe rain began just after sunset, drumming against the stained-glass windows of Magnolia House, the oldest sorority house on Ashcroft University’s sprawling campus. The Victorian mansion sat atop a small hill overlooking the brick walkways and ivy-covered lecture halls, its white columns glowing beneath flashes of lightning. Inside, laughter echoed through the grand foyer. The Delta Magnolia sisters were celebrating Founders weekend, a tradition nearly a century old. Alumnae had returned from across the country. Candles fli...

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WHERE THE RIVER KEEPS OUR PROMISES

Weekly Contest #363

WHERE THE RIVER KEEPS OUR PROMISES The first cherries of July ripened faster than anyone expected. Emma Whitaker stood atop the old wooden ladder with a wicker basket balanced against her hip, carefully twisting each ruby red cherry from its stem. Morning sunlight filtered through thousands of green leaves, painting shifting patterns across the orchard her family had tended for four generations. Bees drifted lazily between wildflowers growing beneath the trees, and somewhere beyond the rows, a meadowlark sang as if summer itself had found a ...

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THE PEACH PIE FOR ONE SUMMER EVENING

Weekly Contest #362

THE PEACH PIE FOR ONE SUMMER EVENING Hazel stood alone in her kitchen making peach pie for herself. The late afternoon sun poured through the open window above the skin, painting golden squares across the worn wooden floor. Outside cicadas hummed their summer song from the trees, and somewhere beyond the fields a tractor droned lazily toward home. On the counter before her sat a basket overflowing with peaches. They were perfect peaches-round and blushed with shades of gold and coral, their skins still warm from the orchard. Hazel picked one...

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WHERE THE MUSIC FOUND US

Weekly Contest #361

WHERE THE MUSIC FOUND US The first time Daisy heard Joseph play the guitar, the air smelled like cut grass and honeysuckle. Summer had settled over the small town of Willow creek like a warm blanket. The days stretched long and golden and the evenings glowed with fireflies dancing above the fields. Daisy was seventeen and spending another summer helping her grandmother run a roadside peach stand on the edge of town. It wasn’t exciting work, but she loved the orchard behind the stand-the endless rows of trees heavy with fruit and the quiet sh...

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THE SUMMER THE ORCHARD BLOOMED AGAIN

Weekly Contest #360

THE SUMMER THE ORCHARD BLOOMED AGAIN The first peach Esme Carter picked that summer was bruised. She turned it over in her hand beneath the morning sunlight, tracing the dark purple mark with her thumb. Around her, thousands of peaches hung from the branches of her family’s orchard, glowing gold and pink against a sea of green leaves. Most people would have tossed the fruit aside. Esme slipped it into her basket instead. “Still good underneath,” she murmured. The words weren’t really about the peach. Three years have passed since James Walke...

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THE LAST CURTAIN CALL

Weekly Contest #359

THE LAST CURTAIN CALLThe first note arrived on a Tuesday. Holly Bennett found it tucked beneath the windshield wiper of her car after a long rehearsal. The paper was folded neatly into a square. She smiled at first assuming it was from one of the young dancers who often left encouraging messages. Then she opened it. You looked beautiful during the dying swan today. A strange chill crept up her spine. The note wasn’t signed. Only three words appeared at the bottom. I was watching. Holly glanced around the nearly empty parking lot. The autumn ...

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THE SKY BETWEEN US

Weekly Contest #358

THE SKY BETWEEN USThe first thing I remember after being shot down was the smell of burning oil. Not the explosion. Not the screaming alarm in my cockpit. Not even the pain. Just the smell. It filled my lungs as my fighter spiraled toward the earth, trailing black smoke across a gray European sky. For one terrible moment, I thought about Quinn. Not God. Not death. Quinn. The girl waiting for me a half a world away. The girl whose photograph sat tucked behind my instrument panel. The girl with chestnut hair and laughing green eyes who had ...

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THE SUMMER ORCHARD WAR

Weekly Contest #357

THE SUMMER ORCHARD WARBy the middle of July, the orchard smelled like warm apples and sunburned grass. The Bennett orchard stretched across the valley in cracked rows of green trees, their branches heavy with fruit still weeks away from harvest. Cicadas screamed from the woods. Bees floated lazily through clover. Every afternoon, heat shimmered over the dirt roads like the entire town was caught inside a fever dream. And every summer, Lily Bennett hated Noah Carter or at least that was what she told herself. “You’re stacking the crates wrong...

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THE TASTE OF SUMMER PEARS

Weekly Contest #356

THE TASTE OF SUMMER PEARS The Orchard The pear tasted like sunlight. Clara Bell stood beneath the sprawling branches of the orchard with juice slipping down her wrist, sticky against her skin in the late August heat. The fruit was warm from the afternoon sun, soft and sweet enough to melt on her tongue. Around her, rows upon rows of pear trees stretched over the rolling hills like green waves frozen in time. The orchard always smelled the same at summer’s end-earth, leaves, ripe fruit, and river water drifting up from the valley below. Home....

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THIRTY MINUTES TO HISTORY

Weekly Contest #355

THIRTY MINUTES TO HISTORYThe rain had finally stopped after midnight but the cold remained. It crept through canvas tents, through wool coats, through skin and bone alike. I stood at the edge of the camp with a cigarette burning between my fingers, staring into the black stretch of the English Channel. Somewhere beyond that darkness was France. Somewhere beyond it were machine guns pointed at beaches I had only seen on maps. Tomorrow morning, I would try to survive them. Behind me the camp refused to sleep. Engines coughed to life and died a...

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