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Alex Marmalade

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (163)

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86 Followers

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163 Stories

2068 karma pts

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The Truth in Tea Leaves

Submitted to Contest #287

Frank Delacroix sat at his usual corner table in Madame Rosa's Tea House, his fingers tracing the rim of a cooling cup of Earl Grey. The café existed in defiance of time itself – a stubborn holdout against the Starbucks revolution, wedged between a vegan deli and a boutique that probably sold crystals to tech bros. Real wooden floors creaked beneath decades of footsteps, each board a diary of stories told over proper china cups. The morning crowd's mundane symphony washed over him: the antique espresso machine's asthmatic wheeze, the gentle ...

4 likes

Ceremony of Unbroken Leaves

Submitted to Contest #287

Steam curled above the kettle in Lucy Danforth’s cramped kitchen, drifting across faded cupboards and an overflow of unopened bills. She stared at the water, waiting for that moment right before it broke into a boil. It was her favourite part of making tea: the hush before chaos. She was alone; her three-year-old son Toby was at nursery. Usually, Lucy cherished these few hours of relative calm, but her nerves were frayed. A vague threat—an email from Toby’s paternal grandparents—had buzzed in her thoughts for days. They wrote cryptically abo...

3 likes

Roses on the Rails

Submitted to Contest #286

He stepped onto the morning train, adjusting the strap of a worn leather bag. Compartments murmured with half-awake conversation; overhead lights buzzed softly. A single rose on his lapel suggested a solemn occasion, though he stood as one well acquainted with life’s burdens.Tall yet stooped, he leaned on a wooden cane carved into a swallow. His hair—wispy silver, parted carefully—caught the fluorescent glare. Outside, London’s streets receded; he was heading north to meet his new great-granddaughter, born two days ago. It was a thought both...

5 likes

Hard Reset

Submitted to Contest #286

Ash drifted in slow spirals through the air, settling on the hood of the rental car like fine, grey snowfall. The windshield wipers scraped uselessly against it, smearing the dust in streaks across the glass. The air smelled like burnt plastic, like old memories turned to cinders.Lena rolled down the window, but the smoke was thicker outside. The Hollywood Hills, glowing orange in the distance, looked less like a landmark and more like the end of something.She wasn’t supposed to be here.She was supposed to be at an influencer retreat in Cost...

4 likes

Time and Tide

Submitted to Contest #286

The pocket watch didn't mean to kill anyone. Not the first time, at least. James McCready's fingers were slick with April sweat as they fumbled the timepiece into the wrong coat pocket. The bobby's whistle cut through Southampton's morning fog, sending him scrambling through the docks like a startled rat. Any port in a storm, his mother used to say. The irony of that particular choice would haunt him until his dying day. The coat belonged to Thomas Andrews, who noticed the unfamiliar weight against his breast just as the Titanic's propellers...

3 likes

The Old Guard's Last Score

Submitted to Contest #286

The security cameras at Singapore's Changi Prison clicked west. Eight seconds. Walter Chen had memorized their rotation pattern during his weekly visits to Michelle. The cameras swung east. Another eight seconds before they'd pan back. Time enough to pick any lock in the world. Not that he needed to – he was here legally, watching his comatose daughter through reinforced glass while a guard hovered nearby. Still, old habits died hard, especially for a man who'd stolen the crown jewels of three different countries. "Mr. Chen?" Dr. Lim approac...

4 likes

The Book of Small Things

Submitted to Contest #286

Yuri stared at the contents of his suitcase spread across the metal table, each item a carefully chosen piece of his world. The Ukrainian customs officer picked through them with latex-gloved hands, his movements precise and unhurried. Behind the one-way glass, Yuri knew others were watching, analyzing his stillness, his silence, the way his fingers traced the edge of *Knyha Malykh Rechei* – The Book of Small Things. The book that had been his constant companion since the night Sasha first pressed it into his hands, her eyes bright with urge...

5 likes

Throw Out the Milk

Submitted to Contest #285

Dr Aurora Iriarte often told junior colleagues that neurology wards fell quiet after midnight. But tonight, she heard ragged breathing near the vending machine, well past two in the morning. As she rounded the corner, she found Dr Adam Walters — a fast-rising Infectious Diseases consultant, usually calm under pressure — crouched on the floor, clutching a 50ml syringe of fentanyl and vecuronium.Aurora’s pulse kicked up. “Adam,” she murmured, stepping closer. “Trouble with the machine?” He pressed the plastic barrel to his forehead, tears slip...

4 likes

Twenty-Three Minutes

Submitted to Contest #285

John MacIntyre slumps at a battered landline in the NYPD’s Twenty-Sixth Precinct on December 31st, 1999, 10:37 p.m. While revelers pack Times Square awaiting the new millennium, he’s tethered to a squealing phone. The overhead clock ticks too slowly. Most nights, he’d roll with the usual calls—drunk fights, noise complaints—but tonight, the Y2K hysteria means an onslaught of doomsday questions. He’d rather be anywhere else, but a shoulder injury keeps him on desk duty.He answers a call from a man fretting that at midnight, computers might tr...

7 likes

The Gathering

Submitted to Contest #284

The house was a crumbling fortress of whispers. Mariam sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, her fingers brushing the coarse edge of the rug beneath her. She stared at the wooden door, its flimsy latch her only barrier against the world outside. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as she pressed her hand to her stomach.The kerosene lamp flickered, casting shadows that stretched and twisted across the cracked plaster walls. The dim light accentuated the fraying threads of her worn dupatta draped over her head. Outside, the village mu...

5 likes

The Long Way Home

Submitted to Contest #283

The cardboard was damp. Not soaked—Tom had enough experience to know the difference—but it wouldn’t hold up through another frost. He ran his fingers over the uneven edges, the jagged tears where he’d ripped it from a larger box the week before. The letters, scrawled with a fading black marker, had bled slightly in the misty air: Homeless Veteran. God Bless.Tom sighed, tilting the sign toward the streetlights to check if it was still legible. Probably not. Not that anyone cared. People didn’t really read the signs. They looked at the person ...

1 like

The Weight of Glass

Submitted to Contest #282

Sam shoved the door open with his shoulder, the hinges squealing in protest. The communal recycling bins loomed in the corner of the car park, squat and unyielding, as if daring him to approach. A bitter December wind whipped around him, cutting through his thin hoodie and biting at his ears.The bag in his hand sagged ominously. A renegade wine bottle had already poked a hole in the side, and every step sent another tin can rattling closer to freedom. Sam sighed. “Hold it together, mate,” he muttered, not sure if he was talking to the bag or...

3 likes

The Heart of the Matter

Submitted to Contest #281

Ruth stared at the chocolate fingerprints she'd left on the invitation. Five years of keeping it pristine in her desk drawer, and now, on the actual day, she'd smudged it with half-melted chocolate from a stress-eaten candy bar. The heavy cream paper still smelled faintly of her father's signature cologne—sandalwood and something medicinal she could never identify. "The reading of Robert Sterling's last will and testament," the gold lettering proclaimed, "to be held at Sterling Manor, five years from the date of donation." Not death. Donatio...

7 likes

Warp speed, Mr Chekov

Submitted to Contest #280

Welcome to Horizon Utilities. For quality assurance, this call may be recorded. Please tell me how I can help you today. I want to speak to a Representative. I understand you’d like to speak to a representative. To better direct your call, please briefly describe the reason for your inquiry. Representative. I’m not describing anything. Just get me to a person. I’m here to help you save time. Are you calling about your bill, a service outage, or something else? I just said I want to…Billing. Thank you. I’ll connect you to our automated billin...

7 likes

Extraction Point

Submitted to Contest #279

The emergency klaxon pierced the silence like a blade, its distant wail resonating through Kai's consciousness. It was the first sound she could remember from her childhood. Not her mother’s lullabies or her father’s calming voice, but the harsh, unrelenting alarm of another evacuation. Another disaster. Another reminder of Earth's slow death. Seattle had drowned when she was six. The Pacific Northwest had once been home to towering forests, bustling tech hubs, and the promise of a future. But that promise had drowned beneath rising seas and...

1 like

Author bio

Hi, I'm Alex Marmalade. I'm a working author building something in public—turning my journey into story structure insights that help readers become storytellers.
After decades of burying my writer identity under "you're supposed to be a doctor first," I'm finally becoming the writer I always hoped I could be. One story every weekday, sharing what I learn along the way.
My breakthrough came reading Robert McKee's "Story" in one sitting—16 hours that changed how I see narrative forever. Now I write stories that explore authentic human moments while teaching the structural foundations that make them work.
Want to see behind the scenes? I share beat sheets and creative insights at: https://alexmarmalade.substack.com
Mon-Fri story breakdowns, weekend Extended versions on Amazon KDP. Learning structure together, one story at a time.
The garden gate is always unlocked. ✨

1 winning story 🏆

Contest #294

Unspoken Orders – read story