Bec Newton

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2024

Stories (11)

11 Stories

179 karma pts

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“A Discordant Carol” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #281

“Who's ridiculous idea was this?” the woman asked bitterly as she pulled her furs higher under her chin. She seemed not to notice her flaking makeup dusting her collar in a sad mimicry of the snow falling outside. “Come now, Marcia,” her companion droned in a nasal monotone. “You know full well that Randell likes to play his silly games. The more uncomfortable we are, the more he delights.” Marcia’s nose crinkled as her lip curled. “Couldn't he play them somewhere warmer? It's the coldest night in ten years and he decides to host his party i...

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“Into The Fold” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #272

“Did you hear it, Andrei?” Andrei ignored Phillipe’s excitable demeanour. He was in a meloncholy mood. It was an anniversary of sorts but one that always made him feel so alone, one that was always deeply personal and there was not a soul here that shared this day. Each year he liked to spend the day in the wingback before the large fireplace, staring into the flames, wishing they could burn his sorrows away and yet, he was unable to gain any comfort from their warmth. “Did you hear it?” He wished he couldn’t hear his companion and, as Phill...

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“Uncertainty” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #266

Bright light burned through my eyelids, the spidery veins pulsing in time with my throbbing head. There had been too much cheer, too much merriment, and now there was a price to be paid.  It seemed like it would be worth it at the time. We were, after all, celebrating a great victory and such things should be celebrated to the fullest extent. But oddly, I couldn't seem to remember what that great feat was or who else was in my company. Losing the night after in a fog of ale was to be expected but to forget what we were celebrating… A so...

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“A Mother's Disappointment ” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #253

Michael hung the carcass on the meat hook with a grunt, the sound echoing in the windowless concrete room. He eyed his prize with a distinct sense of accomplishment. His catch was an absolute beast and, at Michael's best guess, would weigh in at roughly 250 pounds. It was a worthy prize. Made more so by the effort he had to put in to wrangle him. He had stalked this prey for far longer than ever before, ever mindful to remain unseen. Spooking his target would have ruined everything. It would have ruined the days he spent on the hunt, th...

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“Tainted Treasure” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #247

Year of our Lord 1632 15th March Today we set sail on the early morning tide. The sun was barely bleaching the horizon when I had heard Captain Horatio of the Annalise calling me a fool. He was not the only one on the docks to feel this way but I am not one to listen to naysayers. It may as yet turn out that his slander is accurate but until I attempt the journey who is to say it will fail? Perhaps I should outline the reason for this voyage.  An unfortunate man washed up onto the shore nearly a week gone now. The man was crazed and wea...

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“Tested Boundaries ” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #246

Billy knew he was done for the moment he stepped into the alley. Mickey and Tony had split off from him just minutes before, each of them carrying a full bag of ill-gotten gains. Sirens screamed out in the distance to echo between the tall buildings and they were drawing closer. It wasn't Billy that had made the mistake, it wasn't any of them. Both he and his little band of thieves were meticulous in their planning. They were patient and methodical, not a hothead amongst them, and never before had there been a slip up. But tonight… tonight w...

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“An Acceptable Offering” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #245

Peeka slipped through the dense underbrush, the broad leaves of tropical plants sliding over his sweat slicked skin as buzzing, biting bugs hounded his trail. He tried to ignore their droning, knowing that they would not bite him through the sap of the maytu plant he had smeared on his naked body.The rains had finally ceased and the waterways were dropping to their usual levels but it had left a denseness to the air, thick and heavy in the lungs. But the oppressive moisture was not the only thing that arrived with the passing of the rains.A ...

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“Sentient Masterpiece” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #242

There was an appeal in a museum that I could never quite explain. The expanse of the stone structure, the quiet reverence a building such as this commanded. Everything about it was comforting and felt so permanent and reassuring. The atmosphere held a strange, cool mustiness despite its impeccable cleanliness, like an ancient tomb opened to the world for people to discover its treasures, and I was here to discover them all. My museum was the best. It combined both the treasures of the past with art. The best of both worlds in this ...

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“Bitter Twisted” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #241

Everything felt off and I couldn’t place my finger on it.The air had an unseasonal bite to it tonight, prickling my skin and setting my nose running. Usually this time of year the weather would be calm and cool but lately the winds had taken to screaming through the streets, turning every bit of rain into shards of ice, biting and cruel. Squalls of it pounded me now as I crouched in a rancid alleyway waiting for the remainder of my team.Whilst the weather was a discomfort, it was not the reason for my disquiet. Things had not been going well...

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“The Gods' Will ” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #238

“How can you ask this of me?”“It is expected, my liege.”“I can’t. It's just…” Callan broke down into sobs. He sank back onto the throne. His throne. It was not meant to be his. He had been so far removed from the line of succession that sitting here had never been entertained in his wildest dreams or, as it was turning out, his nightmares.Osgar looked at him in that dead eyed manner that chilled Callan to the bone. Everything about Osgar made his skin crawl. He was like a spirit, popping up out of the slimmest of shadows to frighten him. Cal...

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“The Wrong Bar” by Bec Newton

Submitted to Contest #233

The Dead Man’s Rest was a grubby little tavern but here at the docklands it fitted right in. The weathered and half rotted facade made no effort whatsoever to disguise itself from any that considered partaking of what it had to offer. It seemed as though no one had thought to do any maintenance to the old building since it had been built in the Georgian era if the date above the door was anything to go by. It was also doubtful that the glass had been cleaned either, the smoke staining so thick it was impossible to see anything more than silh...

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Author bio

Less awkward on paper than I am in person.