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Samhitha S

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2026

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4 Stories

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Ash and Oxygen

Weekly Contest #367

The smell of burning pages is engulfing the small room. I watch as the embers spark, smolder, and overwhelm another corner of the thick book. Is that the book? Can I hear it now? It sounds like both a sigh of relief and a scream of agony, at the same time. Have I done the right thing? Is this the only way?  I can taste the bitter ash from the book, it's in my nose, my mouth, my throat too, although I shouldn't be able to taste it. Stop, it’s done now. It can't be undone. I just need this to stop. I try to shake myself out of the doubt. ...

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Simmering Chai

“Sumit, could you put the chai on please?” her voice carried across the room as she walked away from the kitchen. “Is this the right time? Should I really bring this up today? She has been in a great mood all day, is that really worth spoiling? Shit, what am I doing?” As Sumit’s inner monologue continued, he picked himself off the couch and put on his house slippers. A notification pinged on his phone and the knot in his stomach tightened. “Sumit? Sweetie, did you hear me?” she peeked from the bedroom, her face held a quizzical expression....

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The Room

“Soft and powdery,” she thought. Would scrunching her toes feel like beach sand, with its rough edges carefully hewn away? She could feel the dust heavy in the air, undisturbed. It adhered to every surface of her body, inviting itself onto, into, and over her very being. Her heart beat faster, every extremity seemed to be pulsing to the same drum beat, as though daring her to open her eyes and witness - witness what she could so clearly imagine already. She stood at the threshold, one hand reaching out in front of her. She could smell someth...

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The Memory Thief

Weekly Contest #353

Fudalik was hopeful. Perched on the corner of a tall structure, he had found the perfect vantage. His entire form shifted like wind on the surface of water. Gentle and rhythmic, most times. This particular perch was a new adventure. He had grown bored of the monotonous palette of the last few meals. The aristocrats' dinner parties, while extravagant, were incredibly trite and repetitive.The humans buzzed in swarms in the market below. He could smell the delicious variety he craved from below, forming a pastel painting of scents. He was invis...

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