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Tracey Carvill

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020

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37 Followers
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11 Stories

274 karma pts

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The Event

Weekly Contest #80

One day, all over the world, a strange phenomenon was reported by the press. Children were all drawing the same strange, unsettling image, over and over again - a smiling face, done all in black scribbles that suggested a gleaming smile and bright eyes in a face made of shadow. The pictures were unsettling, not just because of what they portrayed, but because all over the world, in every country and culture, children who were old enough to hold a crayon up to pre-teens were all drawing, stroke for stroke, exactly the same thing. Then, as nig...

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Mother

Weekly Contest #79

I was nine years old when I lost my mother. It was the 70s, and we lived in a big industrial town. Jobs were hard to come by, and my father had been out of the picture since before I was born. Mum worked odd jobs where she could to make ends meet. Sometimes she had to leave me on my own at the weekends once I was old enough to look after myself. I didn’t mind too much – I became quite self-sufficient early on, out of necessity more than anything – but I loved Mum fiercely, and always looked forward to her coming home again. Our evenings to...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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The Commissioner’s House

Weekly Contest #70

He looked down at the steaming mug in his hands and frowned. He didn’t recognise the mug, but it was unmistakeably coffee. He didn’t drink coffee often, but he was grateful for it now. He felt disconnected, somehow … unreal. He couldn’t remember why he’d come into the room. The woman crouched down before him watched him take a sip of the coffee and smiled. “Feeling any better?” He forced a smile in return. “Yes, thank you,” he replied. He was lying. Looking around the room, it was starting to come back to him. The shock must have caused ...

8 likes 3 comments 3
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Class of 2022

Weekly Contest #68

CW: This is based on current events and might be a bit 'too soon' for some. It was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives – one of them, anyway: watching your child graduate from university. And in surroundings like these, it should have been; hundreds of smiling, black-robed young people, milling around in the square in front of Westminster Cathedral, with the modern, shining buildings of London surrounding them and the old, ornate church rising up ahead, its huge double doors open to welcome in the class of 2022. The paving stone...

16 likes 3 comments 3
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Tiberius is a Problem

Weekly Contest #67

Tiberius is a problem, Zaryndra thought to herself as she pondered her cup of ale, in more ways than one. A problem she would need to resolve if she were to keep her professional reputation intact.It wasn’t a problem she was used to encountering. Normally, in her line of work, when you killed someone, they stayed dead. Two years ago, when she’d accepted the contract on the Pirate King, Morzan Pelagius, she’d had no concerns about him coming back. She’d had concerns about how to assassinate a pirate king when he rarely came off of his boat; s...

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A Crack in the Window

Weekly Contest #67

The scream was deafening, and the few employees left in the office all shot to their feet to see who was making the noise. A moment later and it came again – high pitched, wavering but strong – definitely female. Josie found herself moving before she could think, running toward the sound, instinctively ready to help, her adrenaline pumping. A few others, spurred on by her movement, trailed after her; the others lagged behind, heads raised, watching. The screamer was huddled at the top of the stairs that led up to the editor’s office, which...

13 likes 4 comments 4
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A Place of Honour

Weekly Contest #65

Sally looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She had spent a long time on this costume, and it had – in her humble opinion – all paid off. She turned to and fro to admire the movement of her dress. Multiple layers of delicate white fabric almost floated in the air, ragged yet still elegant. Her blond hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders, and her pale skin was powdered to be even paler. The only bit of colour to her was in her blue eyes, which were sparkling with excitement. This was her favourite time of year. She loved th...

17 likes 6 comments 6
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Shattered Glass

Weekly Contest #64

Julie shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her. It was a warm summer night, but it wasn't warm in here. She wondered again why she had ever let Grant talk her into coming here. A ghost hunt in an abandoned asylum? Great. Grant elbowed her, knocking her out of her reverie. "Cheer up," he said, his voice bright but with a familiar dark undertone. "Isn't this cool?" Julie looked up and forced a smile onto her face. "Yeah, pretty cool," she agreed, and looked around again. They had ventured in through a broken window, and now stood...

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Suffer the Children

Weekly Contest #58

The graveyard was empty except for the woman in the veil. She let the tears run down her cheeks behind it, not bothering to wipe them away. What did it matter? No one else was here to see. Clasping her rosary in tight fingers, she read the freshly carved words on the headstone once more. Such a short epitaph for her darling boy. 'Albert Caldwell, born 1879, died 1885, drowned in Rotterdam Harbour'. It said nothing about the joy she and her husband had felt after he'd survived beyond his infancy. Nothing about the pride they'd felt as he'd ...

14 likes 7 comments 7
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Deep Blue

Weekly Contest #52

Tink browsed the shelves in front of her, squinting through the shadows at the faded labels on the tins. It was important to pick the right ones. You wanted ring-pull cans ideally, otherwise opening the damn things would be another thing to deal with. Then you had to choose the right ones. You don’t want to sit down on a cold night with your fire blazing and your pot full of water only to discover you’ve got a tin of canned peaches or something. She was relatively sure she wasn’t in the aisle where the dessert cans were kept. But you also di...

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The Nineteenth Day in May

Weekly Contest #50

She stood behind the heavy wooden door, trembling. Even through the thickness of the wood she could hear the crowd outside, shouting, chanting, calling her name. Hundreds of people, it sounded like. All there to see her on the stage. She ran her shaking hands over her skirts again. She had chosen her dress carefully; it had to be just right. Bright crimson underskirts beneath a gently gleaming silver brocade, with soft fur trim to the wide neck and the long, draping sleeves. She had to look just right. She had to look like a queen. The l...

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