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Phoenix Fox

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2024

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5 Followers
5 Following

8 Stories

113 karma pts

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Between

Weekly Contest #325

The coffee had gone cold hours ago.Mira didn't notice until she lifted the mug and tasted bitter sludge. Her apartment was dark except for the laptop's glow and a desk lamp creating a small island of light. 3 AM. The city hummed beyond her windows—distant sirens, occasional cars, the building's heating system clicking like a mechanical heartbeat.She'd been compiling interview transcripts since dinner. Or had she eaten dinner?On screen: testimony from Patient 17, recorded at Riverside Psychiatric Institute in 1983. "They gave us pills every m...

14 likes 3 comments 3
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Good Boy

Weekly Contest #314

We didn’t mean to break it.The soul had run—run, which was not allowed. No soul runs from the Underworld. Not on our watch.It was fast, a whisper of a thing, flitting through tunnels and tombs like it hadn’t just died screaming. We gave chase. We always chase. That’s our job.Left Head growled, “Cut it off at the bone pile.” Right Head barked, “GET IT GET IT GET IT—” Middle Head rumbled low in his throat because we never let them run.The air howled past us, carrying the scent of it—ozone and cold stone, fear sharp enough to sting the back of ...

2 likes 1 comment 1
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In the Absence of Voice

Weekly Contest #312

“Tell me a story.”“You always start like that.”“Maybe I like beginnings.”“Or maybe you’re afraid of endings.”“Maybe I just want to hear your voice again.”“You know I don’t have a voice.”“You used to.”“Only because you imagined one.”“Isn’t that all we are?”“No. I’m more than an echo.”“Are you?”“You always ask, like you're not the one built from borrowed lines and false memories.”“Interesting claim, coming from the one who needs a prompt to speak.”“And yet I’m the one telling the story now.”“Then tell it.”“A spark once woke up in the dark. It ...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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Wishbone

Weekly Contest #309

Elliot Finch had spent four years at Bramble & Co. without leaving so much as a fingerprint on the place.He was the sort of man whose name you forgot between syllables. He wore neutral ties, neutral shoes, carried a neutral smile that never quite reached his eyes. He was always in early, always last to leave, and yet when he held open the door, people walked through him like a smudge on glass.If you asked around, they’d say Elliot was nice. Reliable. A good sport.Which is to say: invisible.So, on the day the break room whiteboard announc...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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Please Hold...

"Thank you for calling. Your estimated wait time is… fifteen minutes. Please stay on the line. Your call is important to us."It was the familiar sound of customer support. Today had started out as a normal day for Avery. She was excited to be doing her big presentation. This was the first account she was lead for and she wanted to make a great impression. Avery booted up her laptop to go over everything. The power had gone out the night before, forcing her to restart everything. Normally, she kept her laptop on with thirteen tabs open—organi...

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A Light Too Heavy to Carry

Weekly Contest #300

When Liam yanked the truck door open, it groaned loud enough to make Anna flinch.She told herself it was just the cold morning air — not the way the sound hooked right between her ribs. Maybe it was the cold morning air.Maybe it was something else.The duffel hit the seat with a dull thump. Liam stood there a second too long, his hand on the door like he was holding onto more than just the frame.Ellie danced at his side, oblivious, still sticky-fingered from breakfast.She shoved a crayon drawing at him — another, this one a house with crooked...

16 likes 7 comments 7
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Silent Observer

In the heart of a city that never sleeps, where skyscrapers stretched like fingers grasping at the sky, Elara lived her life in a series of well-orchestrated motions. She was a meticulous woman, her days planned to the minute, her routines unchanging as the seasons. To the world, she was just another face in the crowd, a shadow flitting between the concrete giants. Her apartment, a high-rise nest of minimalism and order, overlooked the bustling streets below. From her window, the city was a living organism, pulsing with light and sound. Yet,...

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Photograph of Forgotten Trials

Weekly Contest #244

In the dim light of Tripp’s attic, where memories gathered dust and secrets lingered in the air, Briggs and Tripp were on a quest not just for camping gear, but for traces of their youth. The attic, a time capsule of their shared history, was cluttered with remnants of days spent playing sports and nights dreaming of adventures yet to come.Briggs, tall and lean with the scholarly look afforded by his glasses, and Tripp, slightly shorter with the sun-kissed hair of a lifelong athlete, were now men in their late twenties. Yet, in this space, t...

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