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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2023
Submitted to Contest #314
Sizzle. Pop, pop, pop. Splashhh.With a deep inhale the scent travels through my nose, up my snout, then past my eyes and ears. It ventures straight into my stomach which makes it gurgle.Grease. Mmmmmm. Meat dripping from a frying pan with the oh-so-wonderful smell of fat. It’s hot candy on a stick—or plate—as the case may be. It awakens the expectation of food that causes my nostrils to flare and my mouth to salivate.That scent—the wake-up call of deliciousness that greets me on mornings when Mom doesn’t go into work early. She’s an angel in...
Submitted to Contest #311
Damen sat hunched on the cold metal bench with his elbows on his knees and hands folded in front of him. Around each wrist was a metal cuff linked together by a rod no more that six inches long. A white light flashed on the connection rod, holding his attention. Ever twenty-four seconds it flashed—not every twenty-five—every twenty-four. It was a maddening distinction that the people on this planet did not use the standard of fives and tens but instead used the twos and fours for everything. Even his capture had been ruled by the rule of fou...
Submitted to Contest #310
It started out small and innocent—I started out small and innocent and without a lot of hope. I had a simple dream: I wanted to write, to be published and known. But isn’t that what we all want—to be known by someone else? Unfortunately, I wasn’t very skilled at writing—or so I was told by agents, editors, and a smattering beta readers that gave me a shrug and a wink as they passed my manuscript back with a “better luck next time” smirk.It was disheartening but I still tried. I tried until I lost the desire to write. I didn’t even want to lo...
Submitted to Contest #309
The clink of the metal spoon within the tall glass was a reminder that Devin stood in the kitchen and had yet to rejoin the party. He could still hear the chatter from the living room. It echoed down the hall in waves, the tone light and soothing before a raucous laugh would erupt.He twirled the spoon between his fingers then began stirring the contents in the opposite direction. The drink was already mixed, the tasteless powder dissolved. It would be unnoticeable and seamless in its final execution.Devin tried not to shutter. Even though he...
Submitted to Contest #279
"That can't be." Kan stared at the man who had been his... what? Friend? Caretaker? Keeper? Jailer would be a more accurate term today, although none of those terms seemed to really fit the six foot four tower of muscle that stood before him. O--which what how he was known--stood with his thick arms folded across his chest. His stance was rigid, his gaze piercing in a way that told Kan he was not joking--not that O ever cracked a joke. Kan was not sure the man even knew how to. But that was the thing about the Partwo--human words, traits, a...
Submitted to Contest #278
CW: Themes of violence, murder, and emotional distressA deep wheeze shook the man's frame like the gales of a hurricane. His voice trembled as he tried to speak, the volume rising then falling beneath a coughing fit."Save your strength, father." Trevor leaned over the grey-haired man with a cup of water but it was waved away."I must speak to you... and your brother."Trevor returned the cup to the nightstand then glanced at the door. Conner had gone to "take care of business," which could be code for just about anything. There was no wa...
Submitted to Contest #277
I was just eating. That's all. I mean, I was smelling what I was eating too. And I was thinking about how nice the evening was. It was cool but not too cold to be out. Frost was on the wind, but not on the ground. Gourds and pumpkins littered the household garden along with turnips, cabbages, and parsnips. The squash smelled so sweet and inviting, their vines still green though their leaves were starting to brown. I just couldn't stand it anymore. I had to sample the produce. So, I sneaked out there with my friend, Squeaks. I go by Squeals, ...
Submitted to Contest #275
"Hindsight..." You know the way that old saying goes, well, it's so much more potent when you're dead. Seriously, you will never know how true it is until after it's too late--and I mean that on every possible scale imaginable. And, yes, I know you humans can imagine a lot. I know I could when I was still--alive. But that was... well, time doesn't matter the same now as it did while I still drew breath. It won't matter the same for you either. You see, while there's a certain appeal in the idea of an afterlife to those still alive, not many ...
Submitted to Contest #274
Her heart fluttered and her cheeks flushed. A wave of dizziness swept across her forehead making her blink. It couldn't be him. There is no way it's him. The palm of her right hand settled on her chest as her left reached for the wall. She narrowed her gaze, taking in the familiar slope of his shoulders and color of his hair. Across the room was an apparition or vision--an impossible sight in the form of a man she had thought gone forever. He did not move, but stood straight and tall, silent as the cornerstone of the building they were in. H...
Submitted to Contest #273
Dear Diary, I know that it's been a few days since I've opened your pages and tried to put something down on paper. Things have been a little crazy. There's a lot that gets built up over time and trying to pack up a life lived in one place for so long is a challenge. It is absolutely amazing how much one can accumulate in just a few years—let alone a decade. You just don't realize how much you have until you're forced to sort through all of it and assign it a value—keep or don't keep. And that's why I'm taking refuge in your pages right now...
Submitted to Contest #272
The slant of her chin and cheeks were familiar. The way they caved in the center but were full beneath her eyes sent a spark of recognition through him. He knew what her skin felt like beneath his hands and lips--or rather--he had known... at one time. Despite the familiarity he saw in her eyes, he did not have the same reaction as she did upon seeing him. There was a shine of hope in her dark orbs that he did not share. Clouded with disbelief, her gaze held a knowledge of them together that she struggled to contain. He knew it existed but ...
Submitted to Contest #271
Gena sat in the metallic chair with her back pressed to its dismal cushion. Her hips and lower back ached from the lack of padding and she could not help recrossing her legs yet again. She sighed as she drew her backpack closer to her side and switched the hand holding her open book. She was trying to read, but the uncomfortable seat was connected to two more on either side of her and none of the chairs had an arm rest or a barrier between the seats. It meant there was nothing between her and the mother with her young son on her left or the ...
Submitted to Contest #270
Pico peer around the corner into the dark kitchen. The room smelled like cut lemons and the remains of dinner. Light from the streetlamp shone in through the window above the sink and made the laminate floor shine like fresh ice on a lake. Beneath the counter hummed the dishwasher. Its rhythmic swish and thump like a thunderous rain storm. His long nose twitched with his whiskers. Beyond the disinfectant chemicals the humans of this house used to clean every surface, he could smell traces of beef, potatoes, carrots, corn, and green beans. He...
Submitted to Contest #269
She can't be serious. Carla was not sure what her face looked like at the moment, but doubt and disbelief had to be present. She blinked at the other woman—at least, she figured she was a she. It was hard to tell sometimes, especially this late at night—on a back street that was lit by a single flashing bulb. Maybe she's nuts or just looking for a way to entertain herself. Carla narrowed her eyes at the woman's lanky frame. The heavy overcoat she wore was several sizes too big, her wrist small enough that Carla was sure the ...
Submitted to Contest #268
The sun-bleached envelope was no longer crisp but textured with a layer of age. John slid his gnarled fingers along the dried-out seal so he could wheedle out its contents. A folded piece of paper dropped to his lap followed by a second. His name was written on the top of each: one with the notation "age 20" written beneath and one tagged "age 25." The familiar handwriting on them was the same script as on the front of the envelope. It was his handwriting. He lowered the envelope to his lap with trembling hands and opened the page labeled "a...
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