Ben Rounds

“Passing the Torch” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #126

“You shouldn’t even be talking to me… Liam.” “I know, so keep your voice down, you damn miserable little squirt.”  “People see us talkin’ you’re gonna get in trouble.” “Well, you know, I used to think the same way when I was your age so I can’t really blame you for it.  But that’s not the way it all works, not really.  I kinda figured that out on the way, and… what did you say your name was again?” “I didn’t, ‘cus it’s none your business.  Why you askin’ about things like that anyway, my name and what I like?  Ar...

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“The Fallen” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #125

“We could make our millions,” sighed Luigi Vampa, and not for the first time, as he adjusted the pendulum of the Bulova C3383 so that it hung perfectly straight. It was a service which, before the great happening, the wizened man had never been called upon to perform and he was taking an obscure pleasure in the meticulousness of it. If tiny detail and exact precision had not delighted Luigi he would have been a miserable and probably very inexpert clocksmith, perhaps no clocksmith at all, perhaps he would have donned some other gui...

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“"God Bless Us, Every One"” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #123

Marty dashed through the dusty room, his machine jogging on his back. He had gotten in through a window. The space was quite cramped, even for a storage area, with paint cans and tools piled everywhere, but to get where he wanted without being accosted it had seemed the best way. Even actors, begrimed with sweat and half-way through a performance, would instantly recognize a man not of the troop. From directly overhead Marty could make out Old Marley’s chains dragging over the stage, bewailing his lot as he admonished his...

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“Office Blues” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #122

Jennifer had hung the last streamer. It had taken a long time because the H’s kept flipping assy-verys and hooking the O’s.“If that was a party game I’d have never gotten it to work,” she sighed, her eyes moving over the empty store with a weary sort of peace. It was done, and when her co-workers came in the next day they would appreciate that someone, at least, had made an effort.“It’s beginning to look a lot…” she whispered, nuzzling her itchy nose into the rather horrible sweater she had disinterred for the season. It was s...

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“Itheadair Peacaidh” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #121

Reuben rubbed at his left eye as he eased opened the door with the burning bush and stepped through into the small foyer. He did not have to.Knew that, acknowledged that.The men in black suits were not guards after all.Knew that, acknowledged that.But.Slunk and held a hand up anyway. Couldn’t help it.He traced his long, pale fingers over the thick book by the second door. The words, pressed in by heavy hands, were marked down through the pages in layers of grief six fold deep, seven… or eight. He could not interpret them,...

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“Folding Shirts” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #120

“Hey, you; what’s your name?” demanded the young man.  There were only so many ways to survive and over the years Liam had seen them all.  Tilting his head in an ambiguous fashion he shifted a stack of newly folded shirts aside so the fellow could sit if he wished. He was careful, but still one slid from the pile and swished to the ground. Retrieving it, Liam recast the thing carefully on the lines he had established before. It was not too difficult. Once you had creased a thing properly, folding it pr...

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“The General” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #119

Mariano moved his hand around the inside of the bowl.  Chary of the freshwater in his runoff barrel he was washing up in the same briney stuff which moved all around the little beach hut; the sound of surf swishing through the two rooms in time to his movement.  Inverting the bowl he leaned it against the wall next to the mug, balanced on a mat of rough wearing linen.  White tide lines rimmed both, as ragged as the un-hemmed cuffs of his khaki beachcombers.  Invisible on the bowl, still glistening from the tub, Mariano kn...

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“The Scattering” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #118

It was the sort of day that the native Vermonters of her youth would have described as crisp, and left it at that. However, Susan’s less taciturn spirit delineated, noting that it was chill to the verge of being cold, that the sky was as blue as a new robin’s egg and the air thin. It felt rarefied in her lungs and the deep breaths she took for the pleasure of nuance, inhaling the crushed leaves, unmown hay and deer musk which, taken together, almost constituted a potpourris, were a necessity as much as an indulgence. It was as...

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“The Winding” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #117

“Everything was ready for the ritual… everything was… ready… for the ritual… for the ritual everything was ready for… the ritual, the titual, the snitchual, the ritualeablez… the rit… u… al… for the….”Alex signed and pinched the bridge of his nose, unconscious of the slight hum resonating from the corner of the room as the airfryer whispered itself up to 350 degrees. Sliding his hands down till they reached his mouth he compressed his lips, pushing in till the pain ceased to feel good. The daily curse of men rasped against his fing...

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“Wodehouse Revisited ” by Ben Rounds

“Oh, hells’ nah,” breathed Mary, who, having weaved her way near enough to her faded Buick to see the windshield, could spy a telltale slip of pink paper tucked- she could not help but feel maliciously- beneath the meek wiper blade. Leaning across the fender, and, as a matter of course, the faded yellow hydrant in front of which it was parked- it was more than her life was worth to attempt to do so from the street side- she niggled it free.  It was a parking ticket. Of course it was a parking ticket; Mary could have told ...

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“Moving Forward” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #114

“Yeah, well that’s fine then, but Myrtle's gone through the change, ain’t she?” said Gary, swiveling his ponderous abdominal sections around with his prolegs in a series of surprisingly graceful little steps, until he could continue his feeding holes.  They were new and he was inordinately proud of them. “I miss old Myrtle,” grumbled Geoffrey, bobbing his tentacles in a way that Gary knew meant he was displeased. “S’not like she had a choice,” Gary managed, around a thick wad of partially masticated milkweed.  “It’s the only way,...

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“The Dream Node” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #113

In electrical engineering, a node is a path on a circuit between two circuit elements. It was time and Janet eased herself around on the sofa, finding the floor with her flat feet.  It was right where she had left it and she chuckled.  For a miracle it felt firmer than it had lately, less apt to fly away from her.  It had not yet jumped up and struck her- well, not hard anyway- had not, ‘tapped her on the forehead,’ as some author or other had once said, but sometimes it did feel very squirmy down there. Ponderously, trimm...

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“The Rain” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #112

“Well, you good to keep going?”Carlo looked around.“Fer’ real,” he said, as the rain kept falling.Soloman shrugged, tipping a divot into the brim of his booney so the water had somewhere to go.“Okay,” he said. “Let's just do it for now.”The rain was the type which is heavy but not driven, non directional and semi-warm, the sort of rain which would only be allowed on a Monday… or maybe a bad Tuesday.  His gloves were dirty and wet, the fingertips worn through. Gloves were free, but getting them was just a thing and so he h...

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“My Dear Watson” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #111

“Next! And who are you supposed to be?”“Um, Holmes, of course…”“Yes, yes, yes, but which one? I’ve got straight canon characters over there, Robert Downey Jr.’s in that line by the Powerades and your standard, Without A Clue, riffers next to them; all done up like Michael Caine and looking angry that anyone else thought of it... so, which are you?”“Right, sorry; I’m Rathbone.”“Basil Rathbone? You, are Basil Rathbone?”“Yep, check out my deerstalker.”“They all have deerstalkers, sweetie, and plastic Meerschaums, and little cland...

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“The Prompt” by Ben Rounds

Submitted to Contest #109

Brian’s hands shook slightly as he read the prompt. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” he breathed. “What is it honey?” said Penny, padding into the kitchen on bare feet. Brain frowned and shook his head.  He did not like to be disturbed when he was working, but, “It’s this week's Reedsy prompt,” he sighed. “What's wrong with it, honey?” she said. Breathing in deeply, Brian lied. “It’s just that it’s so stupid,” he said.  “‘Working Hard, Hardly Working.’  Honestly, what sort of-” The espresso machine flared to life, grinding out a sin...

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