Chris Miller

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023

Stories (35)

35 Stories

1660 karma pts

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“Oil and Water” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #225

The scrutiny of the gallery guard weighed on Spencer like a wet dressing gown. He’d felt watched since he pushed through the heavy doors into the guard’s peacefully unvisited room. Spencer was tired from his unplanned journey and thought that the gallery of the unfamiliar town might offer sanctuary. A place where he could clear his head sufficiently to be able to plan his next move. 

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“Major M.K. Grayson V.C.” by Chris Miller

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #224

“Wake up, Sarge. It’s half-past-four.” Catherine walked away from me across the village green. It was a Sunday in May and we had nothing to do. Swallows cut the clean spring air into cloudless curves. She was carrying her shoes. She looked back at me and opened her mouth to say something.  

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“The Shift” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #223

Barnaby gazed out of his office window and imagined himself smoking moodily on the steel footbridge three floors below. He missed smoking and in his daydreams about it he was often overcoated and windswept in some gritty urban setting, giving off a sort of vaguely eastern European vibe. The footbridge over Chancellor’s Drive wasn’t exactly the Berlin Wall, but the mean little bridge which staple...

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“What's Your Favourite Type of Pie?” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #222

“How long have you been doing this?”“Twenty-five years, sir.”“Remember your first, do you?”He did.*The air was so cold that the thick skin of clean white gloss that covered the roo...

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“The Waiting Room” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #221

A pot noodle is not an acceptable breakfast for a homeowner, but the cat’s got conjunctivitis and there might be a nuclear war. The diesel shudder of the crowded bus made a cocktail shaker of my nervous gut and my vibrating seat was mixing up the dirtiest of martinis. It took a super-human effort not to add a bellyful of rehydrated beefy noodles to the oily hair that spilled over the back of the ...

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“The Tall Stone” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #220

The gravestone was unusually tall. It stood at the head of an unmade bed of earth. Tom had missed the funeral, but not by much. Filled but not finished, the grave still smelled of the turned earth. A pink worm flexed and headed into the heap. Tom thought of the grave he’d dug for Bruce. No headstone for him, just a spot under the tree where he’d played in the autumn leaves as a puppy.

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“The Chain” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #219

“Good evening, Team! Are you ready to save the world?” Ford’s level 6 astronaut themed avatar glowed on the screen above his credit score, which was rocketing thanks to the enthusiastic start he’d made to the briefing. “The Citvore nightshift security chain is entering its 567th night of unbroken vigilance, you should all be so proud!” Clapping emojis floated up and hearts exploded in a tumbling column down the right side of the screen. “Remember, nightshift is a sacred duty entrusted to only one in ten...

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“Senseless Violence” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #218

An imperfect joint in nearby tracks causes a slowly passing tram to pump a metal heartbeat through the hotel room. Now a voice, amplified by the late hour, and Guinness, calls something unintelligible to an unseen audience. Music strikes up in response. It rises from a basement deep in the roots of repurposed homes of Georgian stone to pick up the tram’s ectopic beats and thud out the message th...

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“St. Michael's Day” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #217

“What are you waiting for?” The idea occurred to Kala that the weight of a gun changes depending on what, or who, you are pointing it at. On the ranges as a cadet pistols, rifles, shotguns had all felt light. Tools of the trade, things to be cleaned and maintained, serviced like the photocopier in the office. They did e...

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“The Aquarium” by Chris Miller

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #216

Oh God, it was her. The copper curls. Unmistakeable. Oh God. From the pavement the people inside had been nothing more than unthreatening blurs. It had reminded Eric of the time when the council had fitted one way glass in the large front window of a social services office he had worked in. In an act of miraculous incompetence t...

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“A Trip to South America” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #215

The plane was coming back, it was definitely watching him. A small crucifix, dark against the blue sky, drawing and redrawing the same ellipse over the house. Honeypie watched it slip out of sight behind his tree. He loved his garden, and he loved his tree most of all. He loved it now for hiding the plane that was beginning to freak him out. He suspected it was trying to make him leave the garden...

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“Whose Dwelling is the Light of Setting Suns” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #214

I was warned as a child that looking directly at the sun would result in the retinas being burned out of my skull. That they would be fried like onions, sizzling unfunnily in vitreous humour. Nobody ever identified the point at which it was not only safe, but positively medicinal to look directly at the sun. Rays robbed of retina sauteing power by virtue of travelling on an angled path through the atmosphere now painted me in the same milky peach as the few thin, gilt-edged clouds that teased over the horizon. She...

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“Is It Cake?” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #213

“So now, for fifteen thousand dollars, what’s it going to be?”Jamie stooped and squinted at the five objects.“They’re all so real…”“They’re as real as wrestlin’, Jamie,” said the host to a ripple of spontaneous amusement from the audience, “but which one is cake?”

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“Post E” by Chris Miller

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #212

“I need to send this.” The young man took a package from inside his heavy suncoat and put it on the counter. It was wrapped in yellowed newspaper tied with chord made from discarded plastic packaging, gathered and spun back into utility by enterprising street vendors.  “Ok, if you want me to address it for you that’ll be an extr...

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“Stiffback Mountain” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #211

Wyatt was stirred from his doze by the pop of a burning log. The fire was low but still hot and healthy. Odours of pine and smoke mingled in his whiskers. He adjusted his blanket and stretched his good leg, causing his old chair to rock softly. Brutus rolled over on the rug, thumped the ground once with a single heavy wag of his tail and fell back asleep. The other rocking chair was empty. He looked to the pegs by the do...

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Author bio

“Write a short story every week. It's not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row.” ― Ray Bradbury Challenge accepted, Ray!

Winning 1 story 🏆

Contest #201
The Bequest – read story

Shortlisted 5 stories ⭐️

Contest #224
Major M.K. Grayson V.C. – read story
Contest #216
The Aquarium – read story
Contest #212
Post E – read story
Contest #194
Efcharistó – read story
Contest #193
The Totem Pole – read story