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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2024
TW: Allusion to abuse, some profanity “Today’s…the day…I change!” Just like that, inspiration cracks open the silence. “Repeat after me. Today’s the day I change! Good! Again!” The second time, the guru punctuates each sentence with a clap, stomping across the stage, leaning down into the frenetic arms of the screaming audience, his auburn hair and dazzling smile gleaming in the stage’s spotlight. “Today’s!” CLAP! “The day!” CLAP! “I change!” CLAP! The words are said to singsong rhythm. The audience begins to pick up ...
Weekly Contest #312
Birth of Man It was sunny the day the aliens arrived. Summers in Portland were always sunny. For three blessed months out of the year, the city would simmer in the light of the sun. Portland came alive then, a whole city full of waterlogged prairie dogs poking out of their burrows to eat, shop, and enjoy the mountains of the Pacific Northwest. The day the aliens arrived was a perfect summer day, breezy, dry, and a steady 104.5 degrees. A Tuesday, if memory serves. There were rumors that Portland used to get as low as the 70’s during summer, ...
Weekly Contest #272
TW: Car accident, death I want to tell myself that it isn’t real. The nausea grinding in my solar plexus? Just the byproduct of clinical anxiety. The constant headache? A result of chewing too much gum or an allergy to dust. I want to think that I am depressed, burnt out and exhausted. To think is to believe, my grandmother always warned me. I tell myself what I think is not real. I need to stop believing it. Why then, I wonder, hand in my pocket, inhaling the cold, am I here? Because, if I really didn’t believe it, I would be at home ...
Shortlisted for Contest #270 ⭐️
THE BARGAIN The old mahogany grandfather clock chimed exactly 4:30 pm on a slow creeping spring afternoon in the soul of the southland. “Well,” Betilda Swanson, known to her book club and church group as Tilly, said as she gazed into the eyes of the figure perched on the old pink Victorian sofa in her drawing room. “Will you do it?” The visitor looked back at her over the coffee table, his large form reclining awkwardly, as if the smooth fabric grated against his skin. On the yellow oak table, their cup of tea sat untouched on its saucer, th...
Weekly Contest #269
BOSOM COMPANIONS It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When Anatoly took the assignment from Gio Giordano, the godfather of the Giordano family, it was supposed to be an easy “in and out.” Get the archaeologist, drop him in the middle of jungle in an undisclosed location in Central America, find the breastplate, and then fly first class back to his house in the Philadelphia suburbs with pockets approximately five hundred thousand dollars heavier. Called “The Ax” by those in the business, Anatoly was true to his name. He broke into the a...
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