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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2023
Submitted to Contest #301
Being a single father, I have many parental shortcomings. Skinned knees get rinsed with a garden hose. Papa John’s Pizza is on speed dial. And diapers only get changed after the number-two train pulls into the station.Time at my day job also takes away from time at my dad job. Garrett, my oldest, played his Little League championship on Tax Day, a holy day for accountants like me. My middle child, Katarina, invited me to three tea parties last week, none of which I could attend. As for Baby John, he first said “Dada” on a FaceTime call, and ...
Submitted to Contest #263
Author's Note: This story mentions bullying and violence. Before I killed my therapist, Dr. Emily Wong suggested that I “journal my story.” I laughed at her then as she sat smugly in her high-back, leather chair. And I laughed months later when her blood was still wet on my hands. Yet here I am, putting pen to paper in a vain attempt to explain the unexplainable. I was deemed extraordinary at an early age. When most children were still defecating in their diapers, I was performing recitals in both piano and violin. By age nine, I had played ...
Submitted to Contest #230
10I climb over the railing, ten floors up. The wind caresses my cheeks as if to say, “You don’t have to do this, Marcy.” But I do. There’s no other way.I creep to the edge until my toes are wiggling in space.“I’ll count down from ten. Then jump, Marcy.”The voice I hear is my dad’s, though I’m not nineteen years old and teetering on the brink of my balcony. I’m three years old, standing at the side of Grandma’s pool.Dad held out his arms and started counting. He looked so far away. So, so far. But I trusted him. I knew he’d catch me.Dad shout...
Submitted to Contest #218
Showtunes played softly on a Steinway. A California cabernet lingering on my lips. The heady aroma of fresh basil and caramelized onions. My wife Brianna stunning in a blue chiffon dress. Everything about our fifth anniversary dinner has been perfect.The ping of my phone breaks the spell. It’s the email I’ve been waiting for. And dreading.Brianna aims her knife at my nose. “No phones. You promised.”“I know, I know. I’ll put it away.” I slide my cell off the table. But I can’t help myself. I thumb open Gmail and read.My stomach lurches up my ...
Submitted to Contest #209
Seven SecondsAfter six weeks on the run, a journey that spanned over three thousand miles, Josh parked his stolen Hummer at the entrance to Dead Man’s Rock. This was it. The last stop.Beside him, Fiona gazed out the window, her finger twirled around a stray curl. She looked more frightened now than when she played her piano for an audience of thousands, more frightened than the night she shot her stepdad. Screw the suicide pact. Josh had to save her.He threaded his fingers into her hand. “Helluva way to spend your eighteenth birthday. You su...
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