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[Author's Note: The mentions of Reedsy's Short Story Contest #343 serve for artistic purposes only and does not reflect any of my opinions. I completed this prompt for my own creative/learning purposes. This entry was deliberately withheld to allow Women On Writing to properly evaluate female contestant entries.] Okay here's the first draft for this Reedsy Contest you're talking about....It's a complete rat race but you made a good point about it getting me out there. “Today’s the day…”Kent Daily woke up to the tune of royalty free rock musi...
Weekly Contest #342
She folded the black parasol and sheathed it in the luggage to look at the horizon’s peach colors while the darkness cascaded over the desert. Her index finger and thumb plucked up her black halter dress at the knee, letting her feet meet the warm ground. As a token of thanks, she took off her black Spanish hat and placed it upon the burro and gave it the bucket of cool water. Her long wavy brown hair was shaken up to glide in the wind and out of her bronze face. The flames flickered and glittered in her olive eyes, along with the lunar refl...
Weekly Contest #341
I ran into a ghost on the river. I set out fishing like my old man taught me. The trees swayed, some mosquitos buzzed near the water, and I saw a small boy like he was straight out of the 60s in the reflection of the water as it rippled. He couldn’t have been older than ten, but he also couldn't be seen with my own eyes plainly. I could tell he never wanted to be here anyway, and frankly neither did I. The only reason I was here was to clear my head.My grandma had the only clue I was ever going to get about why they are the way they are. Not...
Weekly Contest #339
Flames licked the bottom of a cast iron kettle, rising from a collection of branches and two pine logs. Resin cooked off the wood, shooing some savory funk up the flue. The small, round kettle boiled down snow and ice. The mantle held clay pots with earthenware lids, marked in strange chalk glyphs. Flames illuminated the wet, musty, purple rug covering the gypsum hearth. A fearsome black mold that crept out from it to a set of oak chairs, where the host and guest sat.A doe slowly straightened her long neck in a wooden chair breathing rhythmi...
Weekly Contest #338
CW: Mental health, Physical violence, gore or abuse My dear nephew, This letter carries my innumerable errors but confesses to one. I ask you to absolve me of my arrogance by burning this, the book, and my body. Take custody of the package, never open it, and ensure it never leaves your possession. My travels concluded this must come to pass. I curse and credit the elusive Jared Porter simultaneously, for his ilk would never have alerted me to what the cosmos had in store for us all. He was a learned vagabond, granted modest scholarships fro...
Weekly Contest #336
[Disclaimer: Contains themes that may be considered violent, disturbing, and/or dark in nature.] “Eric. … … Eric … … Eric! … What the hell are you doing?”“I am planting seeds for civilization.”“Fuck’s sake… What?!”“I said: I’m planting the seeds for civilization.”“You’re going to have to wait.”“That’s a praise of death.”“You’re getting radiation poisoning and wasting oxygen. That’s looking to die.”“I'm looking to reforge life.”“Your pretentious nonsense is driving everyone nuts. We don’t have time and you’re wasting oxygen. Get the back in h...
Weekly Contest #335
Dream ending on 6:25 AM, Monday, November 3rd, 1997I was in a pool with my mother and we went exploring in a deep changing room that ended up being more pools or green water. The water felt warm to the touch, like a tepid bath. Mom kept asking to leave and we just kept getting lost trying to find a way out. There were slides, pool toys, and things scattered around. Most of the toys looked like little cuttlefish or things with tentacles that didn’t exist in real life. The room was not lit well, but there was a source of light somewhere at the...
Weekly Contest #334
Once upon a time, not too distant in the past, in a land far, far away, yet not unfamiliar to our own, an overworked compliance analyst bore witness to the heavy, sidewinding snow decorating the pitch-black sky to encase eight cars scattered across The FourPoint Investments office park, trapping her in an loop of unhappily ever afters for an hour too long... Chandel was situated in a black blazer, matching colored midi skirt, thick leggings, and ruffled white shirt. A long coat fell to the crimson tufted rug at her side. She falsely earned a...
Weekly Contest #333
“An’ don’t g’back heeuh til yuh goddit all. Take yuh sistuh w’chyuh.” Nadine slammed the door and went to doll up more. The autumn air complimented the freedom Valentino earned. Antonia was at his side with her arms crossed, looking slightly down at him. He held the map to his memories closely.“She didn’t lemme change,” small splats of pomodoro base danced on the front of her long sleeve shirt and jeans.“Quit whining,” he focused the cursive stating: butter, parmesan, mozzarella, heavy cream, milk, bay leaf, parsley, sage, olive oil, lasagna...
Weekly Contest #332
[Disclaimer: Contains themes that may be considered violent, disturbing, and/or dark in nature.] “Fine, I’ll say this one. You should know. Got my coffee now, too.“Was at that clam shack at Scarborough with family. Was ten years old. Were outside at a spool table. Just like the photo on the way up here that you hung up.“Grampa was across me, petting the twins’ brown hair. Happy crows feet. Arms had cancer scabs.“Twins, Mark and Jen, were five years old. Wearing GAP outfits, like they did on that boat. “Pop and Mum were at the right and left ...
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