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Susan Moore

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

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4/25/19

Susan Moore

Submitted to Contest #36

I can understand why I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, but why can’t it just happen? After today can’t I have just a bit of rest? I suppose I don’t deserve it. Ah well at least I have a confidante, and I’m certain that soon things will seem a little less cringe worthy.Because paper does not judge (to my knowledge), here are the events of today. — I was late for a hair appointment, so I couldn’t have my regular lady.-Instead I got this fun new guy. He had a French accent and I guess that made me trust him immediately.-I decided I wanted to...

7 likes

Sound and Vision

Susan Moore

I am not as good as you, because I am mortal and you were divine . Were. Speaking of you in past tense makes me weep. In the hardest of times, I had you. You made sitting alone less bearable, you were my friend when no one was. But now...But never mind that. What matters is that in order to repay you, I will continue your legacy. I will be a singer, but not like me, like you. But this has proved difficult. You were beautiful, your body was like a Greek god. My body is dumpy and ungainly. You were unearthly in your presence, and when you call...

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Going by Virginia

Susan Moore

Submitted to Contest #26

I was christened Virginia Alice Anderson by my mother. I don't have particularly strong feelings about my name, it's good and sensible, but occasionally I wish she had given me something more personal. She could have named me "Tina" after her mother or "Lilly" after her favorite type of flower. But no, Virginia was what she wanted and as soon as she gave it to me, she died. I think I must have been a pretty picture her funeral; a wee little baby in a black dress and bonnet, nestled in the arms of my father. I like to imagine that, anyways,...

3 likes

The first real winter

Susan Moore

I’ve technically experienced winter before but never like this with snow and cold fingers and dragons breath and Oh! Beautiful dangerous icicles that hang from the rooftops. Like in a movie or a book or even a song I stand in the middle of it all, so transfixed I forget my own name. I see my house but is it my house? Surely it cannot be, or perhaps I just don’t recognize its winter clothes. I take a few steps towards the woods. When I moved here it was lush and green but now it is almost like a sketch. And to think I thought things strange t...

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