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Rebecca Lewis

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2023

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60 Followers
59 Following

150 Stories

1511 karma pts

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What the Rain Remembered

Michelle had trusted Patrick for so long that she no longer remembered what life was like before him.They had grown up in the same small coastal town. As children, they spent summers searching for shells along the beach and winters huddled together in the library after school. When Michelle's father died, Patrick was the one who sat beside her through the funeral. When Patrick's family lost their home in a storm, Michelle's mother gave them a place to stay.By the time they were adults, trust between them felt as natural as breathing.So when ...

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Message Not Delivered

March 3 MOM- Don't forget Grandma's birthday dinner at 6.SHIRAH- I know, Mom.MOM- And wear something nice.SHIRAH- Define "nice."MOM- No hoodies. 5:14 PM GRANDMA- Running late. Bus broke down.SHIRAH- Want me to pick you up?GRANDMA- No need. Walking the last few blocks.SHIRAH- It's raining.GRANDMA- I've survived worse. 7:42 PM GRANDMA- Thank you for coming tonight.SHIRAH- Of course ❤️GRANDMA- Did I ever tell you about the blue house on Maple Street?SHIRAH- No?GRANDMA- Remind me sometime. March 8 SHIRAH- Tell me about the blue house...

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Nothing Ever Vanishes

Maddie almost missed it.The snow had come early that year, swallowing the town in silence before Thanksgiving had even passed. By December, the roads were narrow tunnels carved through white banks taller than mailboxes. Most people stayed inside unless they had to leave.But Maddie liked walking after storms.At sixteen, she’d learned there were some things you couldn’t think through sitting in your bedroom. Her mother called it “wandering.” Her father called it “catching pneumonia.” Maddie called it breathing.So that Saturday morning, bundled...

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Not Every Part of Him

The church smelled like lilies and wet wool.Rain had followed everyone inside, dripping from coat sleeves onto the old hardwood floors. Near the altar, beneath a spray of white carnations, sat the closed casket of Bradley Hall. A framed photograph leaned against it. Bradley at fifty, smiling too broadly beside a fishing boat nobody remembered him actually using.Rows of mourners filled the pews in uneven patches. Family near the front. Former coworkers in the middle. People from town scattered everywhere else, shifting quietly, avoiding eye c...

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The Fragile Peace

The soup arrived before anyone was ready for it.A young waiter in a stiff white shirt set down six shallow bowls around the table with the careful seriousness of someone handling explosives. Steam curled upward. No one spoke until he left.Then the grandfather lifted his spoon and said, “Well. We made it.”Nobody answered that either.The dining room of the Bellmere Hotel was all low light and polished silver. Outside the tall windows, rain smeared the city into streaks of gold and gray. A piano played somewhere near the bar, soft enough to ign...

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The Forgotten Town

“I remember…” Kevin said, staring at the old gas station sign swaying in the wind.Dahlia looked up from the map spread across the hood of their car. “Remember what?”He hesitated. The highway around them was empty except for weeds pushing through cracked pavement. The town they were trying to find wasn’t on any modern map, but Kevin insisted it existed.“My father brought me here once,” he said quietly. “At least, I think he did.”The sun was dropping fast behind the hills. The rusted sign buzzed once, then went dark again.Dahlia folded the map...

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Nothing Happened

Aisha kept every voicemail.Not just the important ones. Not just the last message from her mother before the stroke slurred her words into soft static. She kept reminders from dentists, accidental butt dials, two seconds of wind from unknown numbers. Hundreds of recordings sat on old phones stacked in labeled shoeboxes beneath her bed.She told herself it was because voices disappeared faster than photographs.The truth was simpler.If she kept something, maybe it hadn’t ended.At thirty-eight, Aisha lived alone above a locksmith’s shop in a tow...

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What Remained

Weekly Contest #354

By the time the grocery store closed, Sarah could tell what kind of day it had been by the carts left in the parking lot.On Fridays, families abandoned carts full of juice boxes and cereal near the minivan spaces. On Tuesdays, old men left them carefully stacked beside the corral, like they still believed in rules. Tonight there were only three carts scattered under the yellow glow of the lamps, drifting slightly whenever the wind picked up.Quiet night.Sarah pulled her jacket tighter and pushed the carts together. The metal rattled sharply i...

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Fear of the Sky

The first thing Kim saw when she stepped out of the bunker was the sky.Not gray. Not orange with ash. Blue.A clean, endless blue stretched over the ruins of the city like the world had forgotten what happened here. For a moment she just stood there squinting into the sunlight, one hand shielding her eyes, the other gripping the rusted hatch behind her.Twenty years underground, and nobody had prepared her for blue.“Is it safe?” Khasha called from below.Kim didn’t answer right away. Safe was a strange word now. The streets were cracked open wi...

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The Place That Kept Shaping Her

When Angie left the town, the river was frozen solid.She remembered that clearly because her father had driven her to the bus station in silence, both of them watching the white sheet of ice beside the road like it might crack open and say something neither of them could. She was nineteen then. Angry in the way only nineteen-year-olds can be. Certain that if she stayed another year in Bellweather, she would disappear into it completely.So she left.Not dramatically. No slammed doors. No final speeches. Just two duffel bags, a scholarship to a...

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The Boy Who Apologized to a Dragon

I remember the first ship that mistook me for an island.It came at dawn, dragging its wooden ribs through gray water, sails hanging limp in the fog. The men aboard were starving. I could smell it on them. Sour sweat, empty stomachs, hope turning sharp around the edges.One of them spotted my back breaking the surface and shouted land.The others cried with relief.I stayed still.That is the hardest thing for a dragon to do.They lowered boats. Tiny things. Splinters with oars. The men rowed toward me laughing, already dreaming of fresh water and...

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The Returned of Bell Cross

Weekly Contest #353

The first time the river gave back a body, the town blamed the rain.Spring storms had been hammering the valley for weeks, turning roads to soup and pulling fence posts from the ground. The river swelled fat and brown, carrying branches, dead livestock, and once, the roof of a chicken coop. So when Pete Badawy surfaced along the bend near the mill, tangled in roots with his eyes full of mud, people said the current must have dragged him from the cemetery upstream.That explanation lasted three days.Then the grave was opened.Still occupied.Aft...

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Cataloged Under Nothing

The first time Henry noticed it, he blamed exhaustion.He’d been cataloging artifacts in the basement archive of the university museum for weeks, breathing in dust and handling objects no one had touched in decades. Most of it was routine. Clay shards, dull coins, fragments labeled with guesses more than facts.Then there was the mask.It was carved from dark wood, smooth in some places, splintered in others, as if it had been both carefully shaped and violently broken at the same time. The tag tied to it read simply- Origin unknown.That wasn’t...

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Leaving Doesn’t Mean Abandoning

The sky was still undecided.At the edge of the lake, the world hovered between night and morning, the water holding the last scraps of darkness while the horizon quietly caught fire. Tara stood on the old wooden dock with her shoes in one hand and her father’s watch in the other, the metal cool against her palm.She had not wound it in three years.Behind her, the town still slept. No cars. No voices. Just the occasional rustle of reeds and the soft complaint of the dock beneath her bare feet. She used to come here as a child, dragged out of b...

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The Blue Lantern on Maple Street

Every evening at exactly seven, a blue lantern appeared at the end of Maple Street.No one knew who lit it.It hung from the crooked branch of the old willow tree beside the abandoned house, glowing softly like a piece of the evening sky had drifted down and decided to stay. People noticed it, of course. They slowed their walks, pointed from car windows, whispered about it at the bakery.But no one went close.Except Barbara.Barbara was twelve, curious, and had the kind of mind that could not leave a mystery alone. She passed the willow tree eve...

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