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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021
Submitted to Contest #333
The hunger was never quiet. It lived behind my sternum—a low, feral ache that pulsed when I was tired, when I was bored, when I was pretending. It wasn’t the hunger of an empty stomach. It was worse. This hunger crawled under my skin and whispered at my nerves, demanding movement, demanding evolution, demanding rupture. I wanted change. Not polite change. Not incremental change. I wanted radical change—the kind that fractures foundations and makes returning impossible. I was starving for freedom. Freedom to choose my days instead of survivin...
Submitted to Contest #300
There was a house in Raleigh, North Carolina, that looked like any other. Two floors, a patch of peeling paint, dry grass stained with atrophy and bronze. It wore normalcy like a mask too tight for its frame—choking at the edges. Behind the windows, the cracks were splitting at the seams.Inside, the air never moved right. In fact, I’m sure I’ve begged for air. The clutter grew wild—towers of clothes, mountains of broken trinkets, closets that vomited old garments and unopened boxes. The house wasn’t lived in so much as hoarded, like a wound....
Submitted to Contest #235
The Peacock That Lost Its Feathers Spencer GordonChris unknowingly resembled a lanky peacock with beautiful feathers; however, the scrawny man subconsciously objected to this identity navigating his cacophonous world screeching like a hawk. His vocals in unison, to the garments worn striking a vi...
Submitted to Contest #232
The world of Aethel was a canvas painted not in vibrant hues, but in varying shades of twilight. Sol, the once-proud sun, had shrunk to a pale ember, its life force ebbing away with each passing cycle. As a result, light was a coveted treasure, hoarded by the wealthy in glimmering crystal orbs and doled out to the less fortunate in rationed spoonfuls. Elara, a young woman with eyes like pools of moonlight, belonged to the latter. Living in the forgotten corners of Lumen City, she knew darkness as intimately as her own breath. Her days were...
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