Menu

More apps built by Reedsy

Assemble a team of professionals

The writing app for authors

Writing courses, events and memberships

Get your book reviewed

Weekly writing prompts and contests

Menu
Prompts
Contests
Stories
Blog

Nix ♞

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020

Stories
Comments
Library
20 Followers
0 Following

16 Stories

252 karma pts

?

(Mother) Nature

This day is the fifth George has been snowed in the cottage, and the worst, it may be, so far. The night the storm arrived, things did not seem so ominous. But the fall was heavy, or perhaps it was just so incessant that it built and built all day and dark, and all day the next, too, until the entire cabin was nearly to its top with snow!How insidious, George said to himself as he watched the windows go white. He would have considered leaving, but it was dark, the cabin is far from a lodge, and most of all, he has a dreadful fear of beasts.T...

0 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

Glorious

Today is the first Tuesday in November. The season has already turned quite cold and sad-ridden, and Gloria has committed to doing positively nothing about it.When the weather began to drop in years past—and her spirits well along with it—she would grow horribly nervous and, in an effort to outlast her emotions (for they did feel almost deathly), push herself to something like dancing (she usually preferred the Charleston and would make great exaggerated leg movements) or walking the block half again or until she was tired or witnessed somet...

1 like 0 comments 0
Read story

Keepsake

Someone has died. I am not in a position to say who, and what I mean by this is, I am not so sure. Oh, there are many times I cannot tell if I, yes I, am alive anymore, so whether anyone else is or not gets by me, mostly. Especially in a circumstance where I did not privately know the deceased, had never, in fact, met the deceased, would never have known the deceased lived in the first place.And that is the difficulty in which I now find myself. I do not know, did not know the dead man in question, and yet his bereaved sits in my kitchen, we...

0 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

How It All Winds Up

Weekly Contest #127

I adjust my hair in the mirror. Well, it's essentially my hair. No, yes, it's my hair. It appears just like it, even if I haven't grown a strand in ten years. I just came to have this piece today, actually. But it looks so honest sitting there! They'll think it must really be mine, the audience, or else be too amused in my speech to pay such close attention.I'll practice once more. If only this mirror didn't have so many streaks, and I could see myself properly. Never mind that, though. Nothing upsets me tonight!I look around the bathroom—my...

8 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

Follower

Weekly Contest #127

I think it was in the fall—a particularly warm one, do I remember rightly—when I began gathering my followers. And to hold a following, it is of very great use to once in a while recall or have a holistic understanding of how it happened, why it happened, and in some cases, when it happened. What should I gain from this approach, a look again at the terminus a quo, a trudge through the woods of the past, back to the slippery mud of X? Where it all began... or where it all ended up. Is there, dare I ask, a differ...

10 likes 1 comment 1
Read story

Correct

“Well, that was dramatic,” I say to my wife.If you're anything like I am, you want to know why I said that. You also want to know whether or not it was warranted. Correct? I want to know the same thing. May we scrutinize it together?It was a response, as you might have imagined. A response to her response. I believe that's technically a counter-response. And what was her response to which I returned the counter-response? It was not so much spoken as it was expressed. I'd call it an eruption of emotion. An outburst, to use one word.It was an ...

0 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

The Loud

Weekly Contest #123

I got a mask for my birthday. I told my mom I wanted it. She said, "Masks are scary, Charlie. Do you want something else?"I said, "No, I want a mask. I like scary. I don't want something else."I was lying. She was right. Masks are scary, especially the one I got. It's a werewolf mask. She told me not to lie, but I had to. I couldn't wear the mask if I didn't.I'm scared of werewolves. I'm only 11. Lots of stuff is scary when you're 11. My mom says on the phone that she wishes she were young again and things were different. She said she wishes...

7 likes 1 comment 1
Read story

One Federal Street

Weekly Contest #122

He starts—brakes——brakes again.There isn't—there can't be anything worse than this.Barely moving—Stuck—In spot—Worst of all he's on a—bridge.He remembers when the Tobin didn't have fencing——barricades.The state said they'd be too "cost-prohibitive." Isn't everything—everyone—Don't we all cost—something? Won't it all—something?Of course, the Tobin has fencing now. Since Chuck Stuart. Didn't Chuck Steward know it all cost something? He didn't know that. Or we'd assume that based on the—verdicts. But maybe—he did. In the end, maybe he did. The ...

12 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

For Fear Of It

Weekly Contest #122

I hear the doorbell. I hear a voice. I hear plop.I'm assuming it's a package. Is it a package? Why would it be a package? I haven't ordered anything, have I?I go to my laptop and sign in to my account.Email or mobile phone number:XXXXXXX@yahoo.comPassword: XXX-XXX-XXXXI click on Orders.Nothing.The last thing I purchased was a non-ticking light-up clock for bed. My old one was dim, loud. The ticking... the ticking put me on edge. The darkness... oh, the darkness hurled me off it.Tick. tick. tick—But enough. The point is I haven't ordered anyt...

9 likes 3 comments 3
Read story

Lucky

Weekly Contest #121

We get to the bar every day 'round 1 o'clock. Me and Lucky do. That's my dog. Don't worry, he doesn't drink. I do drinking's good for's both. Lucky just sits by me. Sometimes he lies down. Every now and 'gain, I lie down with him. 'Round 5 o'clock, I do. That's how I get. Roll over, sometimes. Play dead.Don't worry, he does drink something. I set a glass of water out, or Lena does. That's the bartender. She works every day except Tuesdays when she takes Max to his appointments. That's her sister's son's name, Max. He comes to the bar on Thur...

6 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

154 Juniper Lane

Weekly Contest #121

"Thanks a lot," I say to the mailman.He hands me a bill. Trekked all the way to the last house on my dead-end street where I live. Trekked all that way to my house at the end of a dead-end street in a snowstorm, may I add. Just to hand me a bill. Can you imagine?I suppose it's his job, but sometimes, they skip my number. It happens a lot, actually. I don't blame them. Today, I wouldn't have complained. It's the last house on a dead-end street. Would you go all the way to the last house on a dead-end street during a blizzard? Just to hand me ...

8 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

James Smith

Weekly Contest #121

It hit him earlier that day, the loneliness. It does every now and then. Things get quiet, the house gets dark. He talks to walls, televisions, poor old mirrors. A sorry figure.Other times, he gets along just fine by himself. Takes up time, stays on the go. Sometimes, he even likes it better. But when he gets hit, he feels every inch of emptiness in space. 46.1 billion light-years of all alone. It's a particular type of sadness. And it will never end.Never end.Never end.Or that's what it says.Bottles. Bottles everywhere. No surprise there. H...

13 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

The Ironist

Weekly Contest #120

I see someone now I see every day, though he may not know it. I may not know it. That is to say, we are the same, though we may not know it. I see him in the mirror.And yet, I'm not looking into a mirror, but across a street. It's New York. Cars. Buildings. Noise.The man has bags, and bags in bags, all empty with his stuff. He pushes a rickety grocery cart. Step. Step. Step. A part of his ripped shirt swings from his hip and scrapes the sidewalk. Ground Zero behind him. Twin tragedies.A brown banana falls from his pocket. Maybe he was going ...

5 likes 4 comments 4
Read story

Can Things Change?

Weekly Contest #120

"Pain will be your final convincer."I've heard it so many times. They say the truth is unspoken. I thought it must not be true, then. They say that, too. That I don't want it to be true. Can you really hear some things and not others?I stare at the bottle. Now, it looks like poison. Now, I feel like dying. Like I'm dying.I want to go back. Back to when I felt like living. Like I was living. That same bottle used to make me feel... And now? Won. Numb. None. Can you really feel nothing at all?I sit up, and the world stands. But just as suddenl...

9 likes 4 comments 4
Read story

Each of Us a Candle

Weekly Contest #52

High winds run against the building, as if the sky were trying all it could to blow our lives off the earth, as if we were each of us a candle.   It reminds me I can't linger.   Linger.   Linger.   I need to make this quick. Before it gets too dark out.   Blow on it and she'll stop crying, I said. I'll make another cool compress.   Get me the talcum powder in the drawer, he said.   No, no talcum powder. Do we have cornstarch?   A bag of dried fruit, a can of tuna, and a can of soup. There isn't much ...

6 likes 2 comments 2
Read story