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Savannah Hoover

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2024

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39 Followers
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21 Stories

508 karma pts

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The Girl I Used To Be

Weekly Contest #367

A little girl is sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor with her hair pulled into two uneven ponytails, each one held together by a different-colored ribbon. Several strands have already escaped around her face, and there is a little crease between her eyebrows because she is concentrating very seriously on whatever she is doing. Her room is a disaster. Dolls are scattered across the carpet, clothes are hanging halfway out of drawers, and there is a collection of rocks on the windowsill that she has decided are magical. I know everything ...

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October 13, 1847

Weekly Contest #315

You will think me mad. You must. What sane man would commit to paper what I am about to confess? And yet I am not without reason, not bereft of those faculties which constitute the ordinary governance of the mind. On the contrary, I am — or was — a man of precise habits, inclined toward the rational, given to measured inquiry rather than frenzied speculation. My purpose in writing is not to indulge fevered imaginings, but to set down, with all possible exactitude, the events that took place upon the thirteenth day of October in the year of o...

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The Lives I Won't Live

Weekly Contest #315

Somewhere between who I was and who I’m supposed to become. Some days it feels like I’m standing in this endless hallway. It’s not haunted, not eerie, just long. Long and still and echoey, like the kind of place you don’t know whether to run through or whisper in. The walls are lined with doors, stretching out so far in either direction that the hallway fades into a blur, like a dream I can’t fully remember. There must be a thousand of them. Maybe more. Each one is different. Some are painted in colors I’ve loved since childhood, soft sea-g...

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Are You There

Journal Entry One: August 2, 2023 Are you there, God? It’s me… I don’t even know what to call myself anymore. I’m not sure if You exist. And honestly? If You do… I don’t think You care. Because if You cared, why would everything in my life be falling apart? I wasn’t always like this, you know. I used to hope for things. I used to laugh. I used to believe that pain had a purpose. But now? Now it just feels like I’m bleeding out from wounds I didn’t ask for. And You—you, this supposed loving, omniscient being—just watch. Or maybe You don’t. Ma...

1 like 1 comment 1
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Where Mercy Ends

Weekly Contest #311

“I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.” —Isaiah 14:14 I found him sitting in the ruins of a church that had long ago forgotten what it was built for. The rafters were splintered, the altar cracked. Dust hung thick in the slatted light. A cross, iron and rusting, leaned askew on a wall where ivy strangled the stone. You wouldn’t know the difference between this place and a tomb. Except he was there—waiting. Quiet. He looked like a man. Just a man. But not in any usual way. He looked like we sho...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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I Love You GG part 2

Weekly Contest #309

Please feel free to read part 1 "I Love You GG" which is earlier in my submissions. TW: This story does have mentions of loss, grief, and death. proceed with caution, and maybe a box of tissues. A Year Without You It’s been a year. Twelve full months without your voice. Without your hugs. Without your knowing eyes watching me from across the room, as if you could see right through the smile I was faking. I thought grief would get easier. That time would blur the edges of the pain. That eventually I’d wake up and it wouldn’t hit me like a pu...

11 likes 2 comments 2
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Where I'll Be

Weekly Contest #306

By the time you find this, I’ll be somewhere only my soul could carry me. If I don’t come back, don’t follow the roads. Don’t unfold a map like it knows the way. Instead, fold it the way you used to fold love letters—carefully, with trembling fingers, afraid the crease might split a name in half. The path to me isn’t paved in miles or marked with signs. It begins, simply, with remembering. Close your eyes. Start in our backyard, where the grass always grew a little too wild and the summer air buzzed with that soft, familiar hum. Fireflies b...

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I Am Going to Stay Another Day

Weekly Contest #304

I am going to stay another day. I say it like a promise. Like a dare. Like a lifeline I’ve wrapped around my fingers so tightly they’re turning blue. Because the truth is—I’ve thought about not being here. More than once. More than I want to admit. And today... today I almost let the thought win. But I didn’t. Because something in me whispered, not yet. Not yet, because I haven’t walked barefoot in the grass with a toddler version of me stumbling beside me, sticky with juice and laughing at nothing. Not yet, because I haven’t stood under an ...

11 likes 1 comment 1
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She Danced with Death

Weekly Contest #302

I met him the day my brother died. The nurses said the bleeding had stopped, but the monitors betrayed them—one slow, dragging beep followed by a flatline. My mother collapsed. My father screamed at a god he stopped believing in years ago. I stood perfectly still, like if I moved, the world would crack beneath my feet. And then I saw him. He stood in the corner of the hospital room—tall, thin, wrapped in something darker than black. Not a cloak, not a robe, but a presence. I should have screamed. I should have run. But his face wasn't a skul...

26 likes 6 comments 6
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Don't Let Me Forget

Weekly Contest #301

I wake up in a bed that isn't mine. The ceiling fan hums like an insect. Slow. Lazy. Watching me. The walls are yellow. Not the sunlit yellow of memory, but the kind of yellow that seeps into things and rots them from the inside. I don't know where I am. The bed sheets are stiff, tucked like a straitjacket around my legs. There’s a dresser with peeling white paint. A lamp with a frayed cord. A picture frame. A man in the frame. He looks familiar. The eyes. Something about the eyes. He has a tired smile, like he’s worn it too long. I blink at...

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Precision Like That

Weekly Contest #301

When I accepted the summer position at Fairview County Morgue, I told myself it was practical. A clinical environment. A line on my med school application. And yet, beneath that logic pulsed a darker thrill—something primal, something I didn’t yet have the language to name. The ad was blunt: Night Assistant Needed. No Experience Required. Must Be Comfortable Around Bodies. I was twenty-one, broke, and desperate to distinguish myself in a sea of pre-med overachievers. I thought proximity to death might lend me gravitas. That’s what I told mys...

7 likes 2 comments 2
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The Girl Made of Yellow

She is yellow. Not just in the color she wears, but in the way she exists—like the first golden streaks of dawn spilling over the horizon, kissing the world awake with gentle warmth. Her hair is a cascade of sunlight, rich and golden, tumbling in loose waves that gleam as though woven from honey and spun silk. Each strand catches the light, glistening like sun-drenched fields of wheat swaying in a late summer breeze. When she moves, her hair moves with her, shimmering, shifting, as if it holds the very essence of the sun itself. Her eyes, de...

4 likes 1 comment 1
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30 Seconds of Courage

Weekly Contest #290

His Point of View The neon lights of the café flickered against the damp pavement as I walked past, hands shoved deep into my coat pockets. I wasn’t thinking about much—just another cold February night, another lonely walk home—until I saw her. She was sitting alone in a corner booth, stirring a cup of coffee with slow, absentminded circles. The world outside the glass blurred around her, and for a moment, I swore she wasn’t real. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, dark and glossy, like ink poured over silk. The warm glow of...

7 likes 3 comments 3
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I Love You GG

Weekly Contest #288

The hardest goodbye is the goodbye you don’t get to say. The one that lingers with you forever. The funeral home was cloaked in a heavy stillness, broken only by the distant hum of an old organ. Soft whispers and muffled sobs floated through the dimly lit room, weaving into the scent of lilies, wax, and the aged wood of the pews. At the front of the room, Grandma lay in her casket, surrounded by bouquets and framed photographs that chronicled a life filled with love and quiet resilience. Her hands, now cold and still, clutched a rosary, the ...

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Imaginary

I had always been there for Emma. Always. From her first scraped knee on the playground to her sleepless nights drowning in tears she wouldn’t explain, I was the one constant in her life. Others came and went, but I stayed. I thought that meant something. I thought that meant everything. For months, I’d been urging her to see someone. A therapist, a counselor—anyone who could help her piece herself back together. She would stare at me with those tired eyes, the weight of her world etched into her slumped shoulders. “I’m fine,” she’d say. But...

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