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Alex Parise

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2025

Stories (4)

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1 Followers

3 Following

4 Stories

39 karma pts

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Legacy of a cloud

Alex Parise

LEGACY OF A CLOUD Ben finally had it installed. The shiny workmen were putting on the final touches. Aggrav V was essential to his wellbeing. Knowing this, his company agreed to pay the price of installation, if Ben would keep up the monthly maintenance charges. Of course, he had purchased the deluxe model, with units at home, car and office. An aluminum clad installer motioned for Ben to come into the kitchen. On the porcelain counter lay BIC, the core of the Series 6000. Unlike its classic fictional counterpart, HAL, BIC could not speak, b...

1 like

The Dreamer

Alex Parise

Submitted to Contest #306

EPISODE 1: "THE DREAMER"Written by MEEBased on the short story by Alex Parise TEASER FADE IN: EXT. SUBWAY TRAIN - DAY A grimy subway car rattles through New York City, steel wheels SCREECHING against the tracks. INT. SUBWAY TRAIN - CONTINUOUS CLOSE ON a YOUNG MAN (17) with dark features and hollow eyes. This is ALEX.His head bobs with the motion of the train, fighting to stay awake. ALEX (V.O.)The head was almost obscured by the big black bee-stung hands; but if one looked closely, one could still make out the panic-ridden face of a soon-to-...

6 likes

The Dreamer

Alex Parise

THE DREAMER The head was almost obscured by the big black bee-stung hands; but if one looked closely, one could still make out the panic-ridden face of a soon-to-be deceased...chicken. The sound that started to echo from its beak was not a shrill scream, but a dream-ending screech, that started low and continued to build, until at its crescendo, it startled me awake on a sudden turn at the 77th street subway station. Where poultry became real. I blinked once, twice, rubbed my eyes, and then muffled a sickness yawn. Across from my now semi-fo...

3 likes

The Dreamer

Alex Parise

Submitted to Contest #291

THE DREAMER The head was almost obscured by the big black bee-stung hands; but if one looked closely, one could still make out the panic-ridden face of a soon-to-be deceased...chicken. The sound that started to echo from its beak was not a shrill scream, but a dream-ending screech, that started low and continued to build, until at its crescendo, it startled me awake on a sudden turn at the 77th street subway station. Where poultry became real. I blinked once, twice, rubbed my eyes, and then muffled a sickness yawn. Across from my now semi-fo...

10 likes