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Saffron Roxanne

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2025

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61 Followers
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11 Stories

428 karma pts

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The Message

Weekly Contest #349

TW: Mild body horror. Today is April 31st. I know April doesn’t have thirty-one days because my birthday is April 30th and my baby sister’s was May 1st. Memories that remain mine. Real ones. Ones that haven’t been tarnished with the burden of attempting to keeping humanity intact. These thoughts I’m ordered to collect—fragments, snippets of the past, what-ifs. Orders that insist Roberta’s World’s Best Macaroni Salad recipe she hacked out of her lungs last Wednesday is worthy of studying. Maybe a spark? A recollection of knowledge that’d remo...

11 likes 3 comments 3
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What Sustains Us

Weekly Contest #333

The inhale James took fed him before what lay atop the kitchen table. Pot roast tended for hours by Mama’s patient hand; its meat slowly giving way to heat, now soft and supple, the tension pulled from the muscle like a peaceful dream does in fitful sleep. Savory steam exhaled from the iron pot at the center of the table, filling the quiet space between the Bolton family with comfort. Shoulders grazed politely, hands palmed lower backs as they moved past one another in the small kitchen. Silverware clanked softly against plates as Baby Girl ...

30 likes 6 comments 6
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Of Feather and Craft

Weekly Contest #330

Mrs. Maribel watched the loamy soil cushion and consume her husband’s wooden casket as they lowered him; the earth becoming the final blanket of love he’d ever be wrapped in. Her cheeks were wet, but she wasn’t sad. She dipped her chin to the man she’d given her best and hardest years to, a smile tugging at her lips along with her heart. “I’ll see you again,” she murmured, letting the wind carry her words to the place he’d know peace for eternity. She looked to the gray sky—cloudless, washed pale—then the color of ink wobbled across it. A ra...

19 likes 8 comments 8
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Plastic, Cutlery, Freezers, and Flame: A Night of Support

Weekly Contest #329

TW: Offensive language, and parody of support groups and addiction/trauma. BEEP—fabric softener.BEEP—deodorant.I smiled at the curly-haired mother of three, her kids clinging to her and the cart. “Did you find everything okay?”BEEP—dish soap.“Yes. Thank you,” she said, smile soft.I nodded once, ending my polite performance, and continued scanning.BEEP—diapers.BEEP—formula.BEEP—a doll… A twitch hit my eyelid. The small, plastic woman’s pink lips were stretched tight, like she was in pain. Her yellow dress like caution tape. And her eyes—those...

20 likes 19 comments 19
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Beans & Rice: A Complete Protein

Weekly Contest #328

“Five pounds a day. Five,” Empire barked.A twig snapped beneath Xavier’s paw, the shock halted him in place—his still body and brindle stripes like camouflage against the wooden backdrop. “Five pounds of ungodly meat is what you used to ingest?”Empire, the majestic Great Dane, nodded. The others muttered their disbelief.Xavier continued his strut, catching up with the tail-wagging group.“What have you replaced that trash with?” Andre asked, the rust-colored circles above his eyes knitting together.“Beans and rice, of course,” Empire barked. ...

14 likes 10 comments 10
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A Mother’s Sentence

Weekly Contest #315

TW: Murder (brief description of a child murdered), violence, body horror, child loss, postpartum depression/disorder, execution imagery, mentions of suicide. Inmate #5589962 Kip James MagdonLocation: Westlake State Correctional Facility Sentence: Death Row Kip’s POV When she cried for her mom, I didn’t respond.When the blade nicked my wrist—the adrenaline had skewed my vision—I didn’t respond.But when her confused and fading voice had asked for water, I gave it.A half-drunk bottle of water lay in the bed of my truck. I left her only for a m...

11 likes 8 comments 8
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Happy Birthday, Mattie Rockwell

Weekly Contest #315

Ah, Mondays… The most disliked day of the week. Some rebuke it outright. Others deny its existence entirely, carrying on with their poorly planned weekends that cause them to miss their alarms and shout obscenities at the morning light. But not Mattie Rockwell. The Sunday Scaries hadn’t spooked him, and he did not shout any colorful curse words this morning, because today wasn’t any ol’ Monday. It was THE Monday. Not only was it Mattie’s birthday, but it was the Monday that would make him a rich man—better yet, a free man. Today was the day ...

12 likes 8 comments 8
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Vanilla Heartbeat

Weekly Contest #314

TW: Mentions of murder, and themes of death. White. Champagne. Clear. Painfully translucent. Sickly gold! And—burnt. My lips rub together in a hard line. I glance at him. His expression is almost the same… though a tad more warm… and perhaps a bit more pissed. “Great,” he mutters, then abandons the wooden spoon onto the messy counter. He turns off the full-flame with a snap—not like it was doing him any favors anyway. We sigh in sync. I was really hoping he’d get it right this time. But the distractions from his phone got the better of him—P...

4 likes 0 comments 0
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The Red

Weekly Contest #313

TW: Violence, gore, and a brief gay joke. “Are you there, God? It’s me… Vic, and I’m here to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty.” Hushed laughter flowed around the dinner table, and Vic cracked a smile before Ma’s hand could smack her across the back of the head. “Victoria!” Ma snapped. “Say grace properly.” Ma was dressed up nicely tonight—gold bracelets jingled with each motion, her lipstick fiercely bright against her skin, her hair smooth down her back, and a dress so new it was like something out of a dream. I wondered where...

18 likes 9 comments 9
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Burning Vacation

Weekly Contest #313

Screaming upon screaming—shrill, chaotic, desperate.Frantic steps drummed across creaking floorboards, unsure of which way to turn.Maybe left? Maybe right?Both were wrong.Glass burst from one end of the room, sprinkling shards over the dining table like a sad symphony, while wood splintered and snapped from the unforgiving pressure at the door on the opposite side.Then all hell broke loose.Shuffling. Moaning. Growling. And snarling. All tangled and twisted with their screams.Squelching, wet flesh sickly accentuated the snapping of bone. The ...

14 likes 7 comments 7
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Friendship—No I Don’t Need a Definition

Weekly Contest #312

“Louder.”“Ahhh!”“Louder!”“My volume tops out at one hundred.”“And what volume are you at?”“Sixty-three.”“Sixt— Louder.” “Miranda, we are in a public space. There are citizens present. I may startle them.”“You can call us city folk… street rats—dumbasses. It’s okay.”“Pardon?”“Pardon yourself. And I said scream, goddamn it! Show me what one hundred sounds like!”“AHHHHHH!!!”“AHHHHHH!!!”“AHHHHHH!!!”“Wooo-hooo!! Ahahaha!”“I don’t understand. Why do you want to give off a long and loud piercing cry? You are not upset or in pain. Nor do you require...

13 likes 6 comments 6
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