Andrew Robinson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

60 karma pts

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“Promethean” by Andrew Robinson

Submitted to Contest #60

By the time people realized that it was critical, it was too late. The virus had slipped through our usually zealous defences of overreaction and sensationalism by appearing much less than it was. That, and the world was crisis-weary. Another plague. Another fire. Another hurricane. It was as though the planet were mustering its own manner of counter-offences to answer the unabating insults of human development. The bacterium mobilized voraciously, and to devastating effect. * * * I looked out over the North Shore. The electric glow ...

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“The Uncomfortable Death of Dory H. Scott” by Andrew Robinson

Submitted to Contest #58

There is a scene, in a film of recent fame, during which our antagonist shines a teasing light on the origin of his malaise (incidentally, an incumbent desire to rule the known world). The madman opens his bruised heart to reveal that his father used to go about making “outrageous claims - like he invented the question mark”; he offers a biography that suggests a man not easily impressed, and perhaps not adept at discerning, even, between impressive and ridiculous. It is left to the viewer to determine how softly one might weigh this revelat...

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“The Lunch Box” by Andrew Robinson

Submitted to Contest #56

My father likes to tell the story of my first day at school. (It is determined, by the unpredictable and sometimes cruel twisting of our fates, that good things - even the very good things - do not always last. And so it has been with the love that once defined us, as father and son. To wit, as a young boy, I would take up a position at the big front window and occupy myself with the sensation of expectancy and surety of a schedule always kept. My father was a reliable man; champion of neither deviation, nor surprise, he left the house at pr...

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“Houston...” by Andrew Robinson

Submitted to Contest #54

I’d left things in rather a mess. A generous handful of Fs and Incompletes defined a transcript that spoke of utter indifference; I couldn’t remember taking half of the classes that were indicated, and of the few that I could recollect, my memories were of minimal participation and reluctant labour. My best work had been in the invention of excuses for deadlines not met. In this regard, I had demonstrated diligence and guile - if Practicality had decided that an English degree made more sense than four years cavorting across the stage of th...

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