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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2024
Weekly Contest #267
Spring was coming and it was ugly. The sun had given up the fight against the smoky clouds. The precipitation- not quite snow, not quite rain- reddened faces and wet cheeks. What remained of the final snowfall had mixed with the mud, creating slush blockages on the sidewalks and streets and hiding the growing grass. He was plowing through the muck when his name interrupted his escape. "Chase." It wasn't a shout; It was no louder than if the speaker was right beside him. It wasn't a cry or a plea; It was said, like the answe...
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