Chris Campbell

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021

Stories (126)

126 Stories

11414 karma pts

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“The Baby Shark Killer” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #201

Baby shark Doo doo doo doo doo doo Momma shark Doo doo doo doo doo doo Daddy shark Doo doo doo doo Let’s go play.” “Phil…” “I can’t get Doo doo doo doo doo doo This dumb song Doo doo doo doo doo doo Out of my Doo doo doo doo Stupid head.” “Aargh!!! Phil, please stop, please! You’re doin’ my head...

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“A Babel Fish of Lies” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #200

“Good evening,” greeted the tubular dark figure hovering at Emily Whitticombe’s front door. “I am Constable RMR-1132813, and my supervisor on this visit is Detective Inspector Dorothy Garland of the Droid Yard.” Emily Whitticombe studied the shadowy figures intensely, before switching her porch light on to illuminate them. “What do you want?” She demanded to know from the hovering android. “We would like you to help us with our enquiries, Ma’em,” the droid replied with phonetic difficulty. “Regarding what?” Th...

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“A Town For The Dying” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #199

Wynonna Belle struggled with the several volumes of books she carried across the main thoroughfare of the once bustling Arizonan town of Canyon Diablo. Since the closure of the town’s library, Wynonna had made several deals with store owners to house some of her books, where she could provide places for townsfolk to gather and read or take needed lessons in literacy. Precariously balancing the heavy books in her arms, Wynonna’s steadfast resolve held strong as she crossed the aptly named Hell Street – now void of its once...

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“Mr. Headmaster, Sir” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #198

Knock, then enter, close the door, and wait to be addressed. That was Mr. Harold Llewellyn-Smith’s protocol rule whenever a boy was called to the headmaster’s office. Whether he was already punishing me for my truancy by ignoring me or just relishing his position as the head of the school, it was lost on my fourteen-year-old brain. I knew what the upcoming punishment had in store for me, so I quietly and fidgetily tried desperately to come up with a reason for him not to go through with it. The minutes dragged on a...

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“A Predestined Predilection” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #197

“It’s in the cards.”“What cards?”“The Fatum cards.”“What’s a Fatum card?”“It’s Latin for Fate.”“You mean to tell me that your whole day is dictated by stupid nonsense cards?”“Not just my day. My week, my month, my year.”“Your whole bloody life is what you’re trying to say.”“Pretty much.”“Hmm, have you been tested for Tourette Syndrome?”“I don’t have Tourette’s.”“How do you know?”“I have no tics.”“Everyone has tics. I have one.”“Yeah,...

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“Transversal” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #196

The jungle fauna crept quietly and resolutely around Private Henry Willoughby’s feet. In this theatre of war, it was the only living thing to flourish, to grow, to last. Nothing else stood a chance under its stifling canopy. If Henry didn’t move, he’d be consumed by slow creeping vines, fire ants, foot rot, and all kinds of potential alien ailments. Should he choose to move, he risked exposing himself to the hellfire performance of a jungle war entertaining its combative audience. For Henry, the choice was simple. Killing biting ...

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“WOOMBAA!” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #195

“It’s Woombaa!” The male Indian translator insisted, with hands cupping his abdomen. “No, It’s Womb!” The female interpreter from Zimbabwe stipulated, tapping her solar plexus as she pronounced the word. “It’s Woombaa!” “No, Womb!” Chloe Petersen had just entered the unusually crowded interpreter’s staffroom at the United Nations building in New York City. It was her first day in a new career that she had been studying and working hard for. However, she had inadvertently fou...

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“Michelin Start-Up” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #195

“I can’t believe I fell for another of your stupid ideas.” “How was I to know they had guard dogs.” “You plan ahead, you muppet! You survey the location, jot down times of comings and goings, and discreetly make enquiries as to their security setup.” “I did all that! Even made friends wif one of the secretaries, Jan. I’d bring her sandwiches each lunchtime, and we’d sit on that wall just below us, talking.” “And…?” “You know. What she did on the weekends, what films she’d seen. Normal chitchat.” ...

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“Simon Says” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #194

“We’re just downloading the patient’s memories to a hard drive. I mean, it’s hardly brain surgery, now is it…?” The operating room comprising of two doctors, one nurse, and the anaesthetist, suddenly went disbelievingly silent, searching each other to see if there was a possible punch line to follow. “I’m sorry, Doctor Abel,” the chief nurse spoke up. “Was that a joke?” “Should it be?” Simon Abel answered with a question. “I know it’s just attached sensors and that you’re not cutting her open,” the nurse attem...

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“Early Release” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #193

“Sorry, mate. I thought I was doin’ you a favour.” “By sending me a photo of the outside of this prison?” “An innocent mistake.” “With the window to my cell circled in red and words saying, This is the one, it’s not that high up?” “Just wanted you to know where you were – in the scheme of things.” “In the scheme of each floor in the photo, labelled one, two, three.” “Yeah, well. It was a feature addition. Cost extra. I got it printed by a local photographer who turned it into a postcard ...

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“A Diamond in the Trough.” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #192

“Sink me!” The loud exclamation echoed through the air. “I reckon’ if you be serious about hiding your treasure, then this be the place where not many would dare to look.” Captain Horatio Cutlass and a handful of his crew peered into the deep cesspit of the island village’s main latrine. Following the procurement of a pillaged treasure map’s directions - sloppily left open on a tavern table by a drunk sailor, Cutlass quickly rallied his crew - leading them on a hunt for what was believed to be the lost treasure of The Ortega – a S...

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“Back From Outer Space” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #191

“Hey, Captain Caveman is back!” “…I’m sorry, what!?” “We thought you was lost forever. We even took bets as to if we’d ever see you alive again.” Jeremy Walpole stood in the doorway to his local pub. For the past two years, he had avoided all physical contact with the human race. The frightening Covid-19 pandemic resulted in an extreme reaction to cut himself off completely from society – relying solely on contactless home deliveries for survival. So, for him, a re-emergence into public life, was a monumental and bra...

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“An Artificial Admission of Sins” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #190

Joel Lieberman patiently sat in the AI confessional booth at his local Catholic church feeling like a foreign invader. Born a Dublin Jew, he had often envied his Irish Catholic friends for being able to wash their sins away during their weekly ritual of confessional cleansing. So, on this random Saturday - when he should have been at Temple, Joel decided on the spur of the moment, that he needed to rid himself of the great burden of guilt that had held him down for such a long time, changing his mood and damaging his mental health....

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“The Tale of The Two-Headed Whale” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #189

“I am Cap’n Cutlass of the ship Golden Plunderer, an’ I’m in the mood for mischief.” The ale house fell suddenly silent at the large, bearded pirate blocking the only exit from the building. “I have conquered the seven seas, outfought the English Navy, and outrun the fastest of Spanish galleons. Who here can challenge my prowess of the sea?” Drinking, eating, cavorting suddenly ground to a nervous halt. Cutlass was notoriously unpredictable. Rumoured to have once cut a man’s ear off for not listening to what he had ...

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“The Point of No Return” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #188

“I’d like to return this TV, please.” Herbert Whistlebottum - a middle-aged man with the appearance of a college professor, had waited patiently for his chance in the Returns line at one of London’s top electronics stores. The January sales were in full swing with shoppers looking for bargains, spending gift certificates received in their Christmas stockings, and some, like Herbert, were trying to return unwanted items. “Certainly sir,” the young casually dressed shop assistant replied. “Have you brought your receip...

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Author bio

** May 26, 2024 - I'm still taking a break from Reedsy, while I do some work on my novel (memoir of my youth as the first English-born child of an Irish family living in London, 1957-1975). Similar to my obsession with the weekly prompts, my focus is currently on writing my memoir. See you all soon, when I see a weekly prompt that I like. ** Comedy is hard to write but so rewarding when the laughs roll in. As I continue to submit stories on Reedsy, I realise that comedy may be my path to follow. If I get serious, please remind me to laugh at the absurdity and to slap myself with a fish. On the off chance that I miss more than three weeks in a row of writing short stories, I'm most likely working on my book. So, should any fellow writers feel the urge to contact me, my email address is novelistinresidence@gmail.com.

Winning 1 story 🏆

Contest #226

Forthright Thursday – read story

Shortlisted 5 stories ⭐️

Contest #174

Exact Change Only – read story

Contest #172

Truth And Consequence – read story

Contest #168

By The Withernsea – read story

Contest #165

A Case of the Obvious – read story

Contest #136

The Last Hussar – read story