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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2024
Submitted to Contest #292
Based On Real Events & The Latest Accounts Of The Hiroshima Bomb Survivors It’s August 6th, 1945. In Hiroshima, the morning unfolds with deceptive tranquility. I am Eriko, fifteen years old, weaving through this ordinary day with a mix of youthful resolve and an aching dread I work hard to suppress. My long black hair falls in two haphazard braids, a childhood habit I somehow cling to. I wear a faded pastel kimono, once adorned with vibrant cherry blossom patterns, now ghostly outlines of what they used to be. But such details are trivi...
Submitted to Contest #291
Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM) is a disease in which the heart muscle becomes thickened, also called hypertrophied. The thickened heart muscle can make it harder for the heart to pump blood. Many people with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy don't realize they have it. That's because they have few, if any, symptoms.In the dim and somber light of dawn, the weathered glass of our breakfast table catches the muted amber glow of the rising sun. Its feeble attempt to pierce the worn surface mirrors the weight of my thoughts like light straining...
Tom is a homebody who rarely steps outside. His profession as an AIprogrammer enables him to work from home, allowing him to evade socialinteractions—the scenario he fervently avoids. As a confidentintrovert, Tom finds comfort in his solitude. Tom considers himself to be the quintessential "Homebody" and wearsthat label with pride. Interestingly, in the Far East, an ITenthusiast, often referred to as a "nerd," might be called a"Trainman." Originating from a Japanese movie, this term is well-knownin countries such as Japan, Taiwan, and Hong K...
Submitted to Contest #289
Room available in a Kreuzberg flat that resonates with artistic spirit. Short-term or long-term. Creative souls will discover their inspiration here. Call Veronika Whitmore—curator curiosity takes hold as the ad leaps off the page, painted with phrases that stir the imagination. "I'm Sonia," I remind myself, entranced by an ad that feels less like a rental listing and more like an invitation to a story. The term "creative souls" is woven through the description, its allure magnetic, suggesting a space where inspiration breathes and ideas unf...
Submitted to Contest #286
In a quaint café, where the air was thick with the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet temptation of pastries beckoned from the display, William found himself seated across from Jane. His heart, a heavy vessel brimming with emotion, swelled as he took in the delicate contours of her beauty. The world around them buzzed with laughter and the soft clinking of cups, yet for him, time seemed to bend, rendering everything else a mere blur. Jane, a radiant embodiment of warmth and grace, had always captivated him; her long, c...
Submitted to Contest #285
In the shadowy alleys of 1950s Hong Kong, where the air hangs heavy with the scent of frying oil and unfulfilled dreams, David exists as a mere cog in the relentless machinery of a bustling Chinese eatery. A man in his late twenties, David possesses a sturdy frame and an unassuming demeanor, with tousled dark hair that often falls into his eyes. His work-worn hands tell the story of a life spent in labor, yet there is a sensitivity to him that sets him apart from his surroundings. His deep-set eyes, a rich brown, reflect both determination a...
Submitted to Contest #281
The Umbrella Brigade Picture this: Mei Mei and Leslie step out of their tent, and suddenly, the world bursts into a riot of color. Rain falls gently, hinting at the chaos that’s about to unfold. They raise their umbrellas high, determined guardians against the encroaching silence that surrounds them. That day, September 28, 2014—how vividly it remains in their minds! The movement erupted like a living, breathing thing, fueled by the dreams of countless souls. Students emerged, fierce and resolute, their faces aglow with urgency, ready to cha...
Submitted to Contest #280
“She Digs, He Digs” In the nightclub's oppressive embrace nestled in the heart of Paris, the air swells with a stifling weight, as discordant music pulsates with a mocking rhythm—Kanye West’s “Gold Digger,” featuring Jamie Foxx. The lyrics twist and turn like a desperate plea, their shadows capering erratically as if ensnared in an infinite maze, echoing through the dimly lit space. I, Hugo, meander through these serpentine streets of Montmartre, a fragile insect caught in a tempest, a forsaken soul clutching a nearly empty bottle, spinning ...
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