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Aiden Solomon

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (7)
Comments
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13 Followers
19 Following

7 Stories

133 karma pts

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buster, come here boy

Submitted to Contest #99

The early morning harbored the same color that I’m feeling today – blue. I closed the car door. Buster wagged his tail patiently waiting for me on the passenger seat. Me and Buster walked down the beach. Perched on my shoulder is a tote bag with a blanket to lay down on. There was no sun yet, I arrived at the perfect time. His calloused hand caressed my shoulders. The breeze balanced the pricking heat of the sun. My fingers traced a heart on the grains of the sand. “Look.” I spoke. A giggle burst through his mouth. I felt the vibra...

7 likes 0 comments 0
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The Gatekeeper

Submitted to Contest #91

I didn’t mean to open it. Jesus Christ, it was a book in the library. Of course, I was going to grab it, sit myself down, and read it. The dusty leather bound coarse and heavy in my hands. There’s no stopping it now. In the long mahogany table, Catherine the librarian was perusing through the shelves. She was rearranging the books. The girl with thick glasses sat a few tables ahead of me, I don’t know her name. I’m here all the time and I go to the history section to pick this god-forsaken book out of curiosity. My warm breath passed throu...

11 likes 0 comments 0
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If the circumstances of the day get any more dismal

Submitted to Contest #87

If the circumstances of the day get any more dismal, Bob will go to the rooftop of his apartment building and scream at the top of his lungs “I HATE APRIL FOOLS!”. He tapped his foot, patiently waiting for the elevator to arrive. Fridays are always great, but not this time. No, this wretched day just has to keep happening every year. The elevator dinged. No one was there. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Look he’s covered in whipped cream!” someone said. He checked his hands. Lo and behold, white frothy substance stuck in-between ...

21 likes 4 comments 4
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A Year Without Motion

The wind made the chandelier danced. Chills raced down my spine; the window was open; an invitation for the wind to enter the dining hall. Madame Beaumont placed the roasted hen and the mashed potatoes in the middle of the dining table. “George put that book down we’re about to eat. And someone close that window.” Father commanded. “But father I just started and this is…” “We’re about to eat supper.” Uncle Frederick stumbled across the red velvet floor. A clack reverberated around the big room as the bottle of whisky hit the table. H...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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Salt in the Wind

Submitted to Contest #83

Rodrigo Prieto raised the mast. People stared at the man in grave concern. He dropped down to the beach and began to push the boat into the sea. More people came down to the shore. “Rodrigo, stop this madness!” Mama Estrella yelled as she made her way through the crowd. The sail submitted to the strong winds. Rodrigo jumped on the boat, scraping his knees in the process. People from all corners of the island watched the second man who was insane enough to leave the island. Two thousand staring faces did not bother him. ‘We Prietos are...

5 likes 0 comments 0
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Tomatoes and Basils

Submitted to Contest #81

Adam placed the plates on the dining table, hastily setting the two spoons and forks beside it. He glanced at the clock, 6:53, in seven minutes Troy is going to knock on his apartment door and they’re going to celebrate their third anniversary. It was an interesting thought that they’ve been together for three years. Adam remembered when they first met, on that coffee shop down the block with the bright white neon sign. The candleholder that he bought from the department store fitted well with the aesthetic that he planned out. A romantic ...

9 likes 1 comment 1
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Aksalohtil

Submitted to Contest #78

“Here’s Remy, my pet axolotl,” said Andrew, gesturing towards the man to walk up to me. He blinked twice at Andrew in confusion. “Aksa- what?” Maybe he’s got a hearing problem. “Ak-sa-loh-til.” Andrew replied slowly, sure to enunciate each syllable. The stranger shrugged and leaned over in my direction. His face was foreign to me: his skin was pale, and his brown hair matched the color in his eyes. He looked nothing like Andrew. He bent down, taking a moment to examine me before the corners of his mouth pulled upward. A small indenta...

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