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Melinda Madrigal

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020

Stories (257)

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136 Followers

36 Following

257 Stories

4638 karma pts

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VOICES OF THE ELEMENTAL FORCES

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #319

"I Am the Crack Between Stone"I do not begin. I do not end. I am the pressure that splits granite, the breath between tectonic sighs. You call me Earth, but I do not answer to names. I am not the soil you till or the mountain you climb. I am the tension beneath both. I move slowly. You do not see me move, but you feel me. When your walls shift. When your walls dry. When your bones ache before the storm. I am there, not watching-being. Above me, wind dances. She is restless, always brushing, always whispering. She Calls me Brother, though I d...

7 likes

THE SECOND FLAME

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #318

In the northern reaches of the forest, where the wind speaks in cedar and the moss remembers every footstep, there lived two flames: Solen and Brin. Solen was the sun's chosen-bright, golden and revered. She danced across the canopy, kissed the river's skin and was summoned by every sprouting seed. Her warmth was the promised of growth, her light the signal of day. Brin was the second flame. Not lesser, but later. She came when Solen left-when the sky turned indigo and the trees whispered secrets too shy for daylight. Brin was the hearth fir...

3 likes

THE CLOCKSMITH'S APPRENTICE

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #317

In the underbelly of New Geneva, beneath the humming monorails and flickering neon lights, there was a district known only to a few: the Quarter of Forgotten Trades. It was here that Elian worked as an apprentice to Master Virek, a Clocksmith whose shop was filled with ticking relics and impossible gears. Elian had no illusions about the grandeur of time. He didn't philosophize about fate or destiny. He simply liked machines-especially ones that obeyed rules. One evening, while repairing a fractured regulator from a 19th century marine chron...

2 likes

THE WEIGHT OF THE BELL

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #316

I hear it every morning before the sun rises—the bell in the tower that no one else seems to notice. It’s not loud, not even particularly melodic. Just a soft chime, like a breath held too long. I pretend not to hear it, like everyone else. That’s part of the secret. The town thinks the bell is ornamental, a relic from a time when we still believed in omens and guardians. They walk past it, heads down, earbuds in, coffee cups steaming. But I know better. I know what it’s guarding. Or rather, what it’s warning against. I was twelve when I fir...

8 likes

THE KEEPER OF THE HOUR

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #315

It was 3:17 am, the hour when even the city's hum seemed to pause. The streetlights flickered in their own rhythm, casting long shadows across the cobblestones of Alder Lane. On the rooftop of the old observatory, Maren adjusted the brass dial of the weather vane, her gloved fingers steady despite the chill. She wasn't there for stargazing. The telescope had long since been retired, its lens fogged with age. Maren's vigil was quieter than that-less about watching the stars, more about listening for what didn't belong. Every night, she climbe...

9 likes

THE WATCHER BENEATH THE ROOTS

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #314

AS TOLD BY GHILLIE DHU GUARDIAN OF THE FORESTS UNDERGROWTHI do not walk as you do. I do not speak in the way your kind understands. But I am here, always-woven into the moss that carpets the forest floor, nestled beneath the roots of the silver birch, listening to the hush of leaf loam. I am Ghillie Dhu, the quiet one. The moss child. The root keeper. I was born when the first birch unfurled its leaves to the sun. When the wind learned to hum through hollow trunks. I do not age. I do not change. I watch. The forest is not a place. It is a pu...

6 likes

WHISPERS BETWEEN THE BRANCHES

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #313

In a forest untouched by time, where moss grew thick as velvet and the trees swayed not with wind but with memory, a curious thing began to happen. It started with the sparrows. One spring morning, they stopped their usual songs and instead whistled a memory none had heard before-a haunting trill that seemed to echo off the stone outcrops and ripple through the underbrush. The foxes paused mid-hunt, the bears mid-slumber and even the beetles felt it vibrate in their carapaces. Some said the melody was a warning-others claimed it was a call. ...

4 likes

THE GLASS BETWEEN US

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #312

They met every evening at the observatory's edge, where the dome curved into the sky like a question mark. One sat inside surrounded by blinking consoles and soft hums. The other stood outside, beneath the stars. The glass between them was clear, but thick. It distorted sound, just enough that they had to speak slowly, deliberately. They never touched. "I saw a comet today," said the outside. "It burned like it was trying to remember something." "The one inside titled their head. "Comets don't remember. They follow paths." "Still, it looked ...

8 likes

WHAT THE RIVER DOESN'T FORGET

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #311

The river had always whispered to Jonah, even when he tried not to listen. Ten years had passed since he left the village, after the fire, after the trail, after the way the townspeople looked at him as if his shadow scorched everything he touched. He hadn't meant for it to happen. Just a prank between teenagers, a tossed match in the wrong direction. But Mrs. Ellery's barn burned to the ground, and with it, the only place she kept the harvest that winter. Her heart gave out a week later. Jonah stood at the edge of the river, now holding a s...

14 likes

THE BINDING SECRET

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #310

In the sleepy town of GreyStone Hollow, where fog curled through cobble stone streets and secrets lingered like the smell of old pages, Clementine Voss ran "The Hidden Chapter," an indie bookstore nestled between a bakery and an antiques shop. Her clientele were loyal, quirky and devoted to stories-but none as enigmatic as the man who walked in that Friday afternoon. He wore a faded green coat and asked for The Drowned Ledger, a book Clementine kept locked in a glass case. It wasn't for sale-not really. It was a relic tied to the still-unsol...

3 likes

JASMINE AND SALT

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #309

The kettle hissed long before it whistled. Mira stood barefoot on the cool title, her fingertips tracing the chipped rim of the porcelain cup. She hadn't used it since her mother passed. Not out of grief-at least not solely-but because it always felt like a ritual and she hadn't known what she was invoking anymore. The Jasmine tea leaves, curled like sleeping beetles, lay in the faded tin with its leaves half-peeled. She scooped a spoonful into the steeping basket, inhaled. The scent rushed up-flowers in a summer rain, memories buried under ...

12 likes

THE ROOT THAT REMEMBERED

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #308

In the village of Olean's Hollow, the trees had always whispered. Not with wind alone but with memory. Every spring into summer as the frost withdrew and moss crept soft across stone, the villagers broth offerings to the Heartwood Tree, a great gnarled sentinel older than memory. Some left milk. Others feathers or song. No one remembered when the tradition began, but none dare neglect it-not after the stories. Ione was different. A field botanist, newly arrived with no use for myths. She came for the rare wildfire orchids that bloom at dusk ...

8 likes

THE KEY TO SOMEWHERE

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #307

I have always been meticulous about keeping my workspace tidy. Every evening, I always wipe my desk, align my notebooks and ensure nothing unnecessary clutters the surface. That's why when I find the key, I was certain it hadn't been there before. It lay on the desk, small and ornate, with a swirling design etched into the metal-delicate and almost hypnotic. It didn't belong to me nor anyone who should've had access to my apartment. It was too intricate to be for my usual locks, too old-fashioned to be for anything modern. I picked it up, we...

5 likes

ECHOES OF TOMORROW

Melinda Madrigal

Submitted to Contest #306

Abandoned Train Station-NightThe moonlight filters through broken windows. The station is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the wind. A lone figure (30s, scrappy and determined) crouches behind a rusted bench, clutching a small, glowing device. Camden (whispers to herself)This has to work. It has too. Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoes through the station. Agents clad in black tactical gear sweep the area with flashlights. Agent 1 (voice cold and commanding)She's here, spread out. No mistakes. Camden glances at the device in her...

6 likes

THE UNKNOWN ROAD

Melinda Madrigal

It only took me a few minutes to realize something was wrong. I'm lost in a place I don't recognize. I'm driving down route 3, the same route I always take home. Then something happened. The scenery began to change. I no longer saw houses or cars or two highways separating each other. There are no longer gas stations or rest stops. I see nothing expect trees. The lights are dim. What's even worse the day turned into night in a matter of seconds. I continue driving for miles. I see nothing but darkness. The darkness is starting to turn to fog...

3 likes