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Rebecca Lewis

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2023

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60 Followers
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150 Stories

1511 karma pts

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Packing Boxes

The kitchen filled with the gentle hiss of butter melting in the pan. Sabeena tipped in a handful of sliced mushrooms, stirring them with a wooden spoon until they turned golden at the edges. The smell of garlic drifted through the apartment, drawing her brother Dave from the living room. "That smells unfairly good," he said, leaning against the doorway. "You can complain after you grate the cheese." He laughed, grabbed the box grater, and got to work while Sabeena poured in a splash of cream. The sauce thickened slowly, wrapping itsel...

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The Shape of Summer

The list had started as a joke.On the last day of school, Sherell had grabbed a marker and written "Things to Do Before Summer Ends" across a piece of cardboard she'd found in the garage. Underneath, she filled it with everything that seemed important in June.Watch a meteor shower.Swim after sunset.Learn to make blueberry pie.Read three novels.Ride a bike to the old lighthouse.By the middle of August, every item had a thick black line through it except one.Tell Peter the truth.She could have crossed it off with a lie. Nobody else cared about...

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The Summer Map

The town of Harbor Point only came alive in June. By September, the ice cream shop closed its blue shutters, the souvenir stores packed away seashell wind chimes, and the beach belonged to gulls and waves again. But for twelve weeks every summer, the boardwalk filled with music, laughter, and people pretending time moved more slowly by the ocean. Kelly had spent every summer there since she was six. At twenty-three, she worked mornings at the bookstore near the pier and spent afternoons reading behind the counter whenever business slow...

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The Measure of Doors

The clock above the bakery door had been stuck at 4:17 for three years. Nobody bothered fixing it anymore. It was right often enough to fool strangers and wrong often enough that everyone who lived on Alder Street learned to ignore it. Philomina glanced at it out of habit anyway as she locked her bicycle to the bent signpost outside. Rain threatened but never committed. The air smelled like warm bread and wet pavement. Inside, the usual rhythm carried on. Trays slid into ovens. Someone laughed in the kitchen. Mrs. Lockwood argued with ...

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After the Silence

Before the meeting, neither Debbie nor Don expected anything to change. Three years had passed since their painful breakup, and they had carefully built separate lives. The only reason they agreed to meet was to finalize the sale of the apartment they had once shared. At first, the conversation stayed polite and distant. They discussed paperwork, finances, and renovation costs without making eye contact. The silence between subjects felt heavier than the words themselves. Then Don quietly admitted that he had spent years believing Debbie...

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Yeah, Grandma, I Stayed.

The train pulled into the station ten minutes late, hissing as it settled against the platform. Susana stepped off with a single suitcase and a folded map she hadn't looked at in years. The town seemed smaller than she remembered. The bakery was still on the corner. The clock tower still leaned slightly to the left. Even the old bookstore still had the same faded sign in the window. As she crossed the square, a man sitting on a bench looked up from a newspaper. His eyes widened. “Have we met before?” Susana stopped. The question sh...

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The Year the Stories Broke

When the dragon arrived, nobody screamed.The farmers in the valley looked up from their fields, nodded politely, and went back to work.The dragon seemed disappointed.“I am Vargath the Terrible,” he announced from the hilltop.“Welcome,” said an old woman hanging laundry.“I have come to destroy your village.”“Of course you have.”The dragon blinked.That wasn't the usual response.“Do you understand?” he asked. “I breathe fire.”“That sounds useful in winter,” the woman replied.Vargath spent the next hour setting several empty sheds ablaze. Nobody...

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The Door Left Unlocked

The train station closed at midnight, but Tyler stayed on the bench anyway.The departure board had gone dark an hour ago. The coffee stand was shuttered. Even the cleaning crew had finished their rounds and disappeared. Outside, rain tapped softly against the glass roof.Still, he waited.A paper ticket rested in his hands. It was worn thin at the folds from being opened and checked and folded again. The date printed on it was six months old.Most people would have called it foolish by now.His sister had promised she would come back on that tra...

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Where Lost People Go

The last train arrived at Platform 7 at exactly 11:47 p.m.Jill almost missed it.She sprinted through the nearly empty station, her backpack bouncing against her shoulders. The train's doors were already chiming their warning when she slipped inside. The doors closed behind her with a hiss.The carriage was empty except for one passenger.An old man sat near the far end, dressed in a dark coat despite the summer heat. He looked up as Jill entered and gave her a small nod. She nodded back and sat several rows away.The train lurched forward.Outs...

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The Longest Journey Home

For seventeen years, everyone in Brindle had listened to the same answer."It's not coming back."They said it when they passed the old railway station with its boarded windows and rusted tracks. They said it when they saw Eric Romanucci sweeping leaves from the empty platform every Saturday morning. They said it when they noticed him carrying paint cans, replacing broken signs, or clearing weeds from rails that hadn't felt the weight of a train in decades.The train line was dead. Everyone knew it.Everyone except Eric.The railway had once conn...

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Aaron's Twenty-eight Versions

I knew Aaron Powell would fail the moment he raised his hand.The room smelled like machine oil and dust, and twenty-four of us sat packed into the workshop, waiting for Professor Watne to announce who would represent the academy at the National Engineering Trials. The competition had a reputation for crushing people. Teams from wealthy schools arrived with custom equipment and years of training. We barely had enough funding to keep the lights on.Then Aaron volunteered.Not because he was talented.Because he wasn't.At least, that was what I be...

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The Forgotten Partner

Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake.They said it with smiles at first.Teachers smiled when they handed back my exams. Employers smiled when they chose someone else. Investors smiled when they listened to my pitch and explained, very politely, why it would never work.I learned something about smiles. The kind that says good luck often means goodbye.For a while, I almost agreed with them.The warehouse I rented leaked when it rained. Half my equipment came from junkyards. The prototype failed so often that I started keeping a no...

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The Choice to Look

The ocean had already decided to keep him.At least, that's what everyone said afterward.The storm hit at 2:17 a.m.One moment, the fishing boat Maribel was riding the swells thirty miles off the coast. The next, a wall of black water rose out of the darkness and folded the vessel in half like a toy.Taylor remembered the sound more than anything. Not the thunder. Not the wind.The cracking.Wood snapping. Metal screaming. Men shouting names that vanished into the storm before anyone could answer.Then the sea swallowed everything. When Tayl...

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I Carry His Bags

The kingdom's songs never mention me. They sing about Sir Jumoke the Bright, Dragon-Slayer of the West, Savior of Three Villages, Bearer of the Sunblade. Children wave wooden swords and pretend to be him. Merchants sell paintings of him. Bards argue over which of his adventures makes the best verse. Meanwhile, I carry his bags. I don't mind. Someone has to remember where the bedrolls are packed. The first time I met Jumoke, he was trying to fight a troll with a loaf of bread. Not because he thought it was a good weapon. He'd s...

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Elyce and Professor Billany

The first time they met, neither of them spoke. Elyce sat on the roof of the old train station, legs dangling over the edge, sharpening a knife she never used. People in town thought she was dangerous because she dressed in black, walked alone, and rarely answered questions with more than a shrug. Three blocks away, Professor Nathan Billany was giving a lecture to an audience of exactly one person and a sleeping dog. "History," he announced to the empty square, "is mostly people making avoidable mistakes." The dog yawned. Elyce not...

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