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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021
Submitted to Contest #314
When I was eight years old I shined the shoes of a boy named Walenco. Walenco had 24 pairs of shoes, a number I find impressive even today. It was the 1950’s and we were growing up on a small island, in an agricultural town, two hours away from the main city. There were dirt paths for roads, wooden shacks for homes, and a population of 43 we proudly called a society. Yet, Walenco owned 24 pairs of shoes. He had a pair of black and white spectators. He wore them on Saturdays evenings when the men would gather around the only radio in town to...
Submitted to Contest #298
The Architect of Bloom, or A.B. for short, had 7 apprentices - all assigned to her by the Overseer of Botany. They were sent to her sporadically, at all times of the year, at odd points of her life. The apprentices were there to acquire from her the training needed to become junior Flower Makers; eventually the Overseer would remove them from her care and assign them to distant pastures. A.B. knew this, yet this understanding did not dull the fact that it was difficult for her to part with things, with people. Years in cultivation had not ye...
Submitted to Contest #240
It crept up her spine like a malevolent spirit, leaving a clear path of prickled skin up her back. She had not heard that song in over 30 years and though the air was indeed quite cool she knew it was not the wind that chilled her. Her eyes darted towards her husband’s whose thoughts were now with the political news clip he had scrolled to on his phone. Annoyed by his persistent absence she looked over at her daughter, Marina, whose stretched-out arms now swayed beside her as she embraced a tune that was otherwise crippling her mother. ...
Submitted to Contest #207
"Cut! That's it. That's the one we're using." "Wait. That's it?" "That's the one." Bernavides repeated, not taking his eyes off the pair. "But that was just the first take, you're sure you don't want to run it one more time?" "No. That's the one. Make sure nothing happens to that role." The director instructed, heading towards his trailer, leather notebook in hand. Ava stared as the director walked away knowing he had seen them. He had seen Reginald and Ava in places where Emolee Beck and Dr. Caster should have been. She felt...
Submitted to Contest #206
I am a TSA agent with Generalized Anxiety Disorder based out of Florida. I share this so that you might understand what caused me to shut down the Miami International Airport on January 28, 2023.It was a typical Saturday. My shift started at 3am so I was up by midnight. My usual routine included a lukewarm shower, marijuana with some meditation, tea and a granola bar. Smoking weed before clocking into a TSA job had its challenges but it became a necessity for me. As a kid, my father beat me mercilessly. Any slight infraction was my faul...
Submitted to Contest #199
The first page was blank. Orelio closed the notebook, turning it around in his hands looking for a name he might have missed the first time. There was no name.He looked around the bookstore. The magazine section where he stood was empty. It was one hour till closing on a rainy Monday night so the store in general was nearly empty. He turned to the second page where slanted waves of purple ink hung between lines like clothes drying in the breeze.Hi God.Do you know what I find interesting about you? The arbitrary nature of your goodness. He cl...
Submitted to Contest #176
On the eve of my fifteenth birthday my parents' struggling marriage reached a boiling point. Their constant threats to divorce began to actualize when my father threw a pair of freshly pressed button downs into his weathered black suitcase and grabbed his keys. My mother's insults rattled against picture frames that displayed photos of a family I no longer recognized and my dad's compulsory need to reply to each and every one of them prolonged his departure. In the morning, having allowed the guilt of their actions to settle, they shift...
Submitted to Contest #170
When I retell this story I’ll say it was her skin tone. Brown. Warm enough to be southern, deep enough to be local. Detroit-local were only the nape of her neck shown underneath a charcoal colored beanie and an oversized olive jacket that swallowed her figure in a way that let me know she preferred it this way. Highlighted against a wall of color she toyed with two variations of pink, sampling the hues against her skin, as if she meant to coat herself in them. Standing there just feet away from her I watched as she placed each rejected se...
Submitted to Contest #164
"Where I come from you're already divorced." Janus crouched in the corner of the bathroom floor. Her knees pressed so tightly against her body it was painful. The full length mirror she had convinced her husband to install in the shower revealed a standing version of herself, naked, talking, and entirely unbothered by the discrepancy of the scene. It's a demon. It's a demon. Her inner voice repeated over and over, as she tried to conjure up the prayers her mother would whisper the few times she had ever shown fear. Just moments ago h...
Submitted to Contest #161
Opalence Williamson leaned against the threshold of the door allowing time to lapse over her in waves of fading light. Her mother had recently passed and Opalence could not keep her mind from wondering into corners she had long ago stopped visiting. Every item in her mother's house had the power to bewitch her, to hold her in place while her mind raced before her to distant times. The faint smell of rosemary, the constant ticking of the living room clock, the wood-paneled walls all activated memories that sprung open before her like triggere...
Submitted to Contest #160
Adabollah felt it the moment she opened her eyes. It was a faint nagging feeling nestled in the center of her belly; not painful enough to assume sickness but present and pulsating like the onset of dread. Laying still in her cot she glanced towards the window of her lapa. The cool breeze toyed with the thin burgundy-colored drapes she had hung so many years ago. "It is the wind." She whispered, providing an explanation for a fear only she could sense. The light of the quarter moon was brighter than usual, illuminating the walls, castin...
Submitted to Contest #142
"Imaginative as your original idea may have been, it has sadly been lost in the under-cooked gumbo that is your story. As a writer, food-critic-turned-novelist, I often anchor my critiques in the analogy of cooking. It is a technique that works well in conveying complex thoughts to simple writers. Those inclined towards sappy, romantic stories that make readers wait. I suspect you're a woman. You should note that most men will not wait for you to develop such narratives. We would like for you to get to the point, if there is one, rather quic...
Submitted to Contest #139
This farmland is stationed in the middle ground between data and deduction, between thought and action, it lies at the summit of man's anatomy and the pit of his understanding. You are traveling into another dimension, not one located in a distant galaxy but rather nested at the base of every human experience. It is a region of analysis and interpretation. Journey not into the abyss of space and stars but into an imaginative exploration of our humanity.You are about to meet two farmers. Opolo and Cervell. They sow seeds, till the ground, and...
Submitted to Contest #138
The line of Attas marched through the field in the type of silence that seemed to hold much more than choked words. The bright May morning had brought about the perfect weather for the Minims Trials, even if such beauty with paradoxical in light of the ceremonies. Each Minim walked in front of the Mediae assigned to her in a perfect formation that curved its way towards the Testing Grounds stomp by stomp.Atta-Bella dared not look back at her Mediae though she desperately wanted to. Each time her head would so much as tilt to one side, she co...
Submitted to Contest #128
The white in the room was overwhelming. Marion Miller had lived through eight decades affording her time to get acquainted with a variety of styles. The last two years had found her experimenting with a new monochromatic trend that had resulted in a shapeless room with shadows so sharp they overpowered the lighting. Elizabeth hated entering that room. The rest of the house had also fallen victim to the trend but could at least boast of more vibrant hues. The parlor was pink, the kitchen yellow, and even Elizabeth had participated in inundati...
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