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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2021
Submitted to Contest #101
“Come back!” I’m standing in the back garden smoking, the only light the cigarette and the faint traces of a glow from the streetlight on the corner at the end of the road. My head’s tingling softly with end of the day sensations but really I just want peace and quiet. “Oh, please come back!” I’m surprised that no one else on the street seems to be awake, despite the time, because for the last fiftee...
“Do you believe in God?” I ask. I shake my head no. “Why not?” I ask. “It’s hard to put into words,” I say. I look hard at myself and think about it. There isn’t an obvious answer. When I shake my head, I notice that I look sad. “Never mind,” I say. “I’m fine...
As I sit here, I wonder about the real meaning of monster. I know it’s not a new question. I know it’s nothing original. I know there is little chance I can bring anything new to the table. I never claimed to be a great thinker. But still, I ask myself questions. It seems important. It passes the time. It is a way to distract myself. Pick one. You...
There just aren’t the words. They’re nowhere. Which is a problem. I enjoy writing stories. I would say I always have, but that’s not strictly true. As a teenager and through university, I wrote regularly. It was fun. And then it stopped. I never intended to stop writing, but for a number of years I did. Almost completely. There’d be a few jottings here or there, but nothing that could be considered a piece, whether a story or an article or a poem or whatever. I simply stopped writing. ...
Submitted to Contest #100
My brother didn’t say anything about me being late as I slid into the seat opposite him. That was an unexpectedly positive start. “Evening,” I said. “Been here long?” Still nothing. He just smiled and slid a menu over to me. “Thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll order a drink first.” I raised my hand and ordered some wine, then opened the menu and we discusse...
By the time the smoke had cleared, literally and metaphorically, the dining table looked like a spillage in a matchstick factory. It was hard to tell where the cranberry sauce ended and the blood began. I was trying to sit up and look around the place, but I must have broken some ribs and every time I moved, pain ravaged my chest. Across the room, in the doorway, I could see something. Something I recognized. Someone. I wiped my face, blinked tears from my eyes. Mum was standing there, her arms folded, looking over the carnage. She shook h...
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” “Please,” the long haired man in the hoodie said, waving a hand over towards the empty seat the young woman stood by. “Help yourself.” “Thanks,” she said, putting her tray down and sliding smoothly into the seat without having to pull it out any. He looked at her. He wondered whether he should say something, or maybe it would be better if they both ate in silence. She was...
Content warning: animal abuse Sitting in the car, the engine humming quietly in front of us, vibrating around and beneath us, heightened by the fact the music’s turned off and nobody’s speaking. Reality is starting to set in. Within the cocoon of the car, ‘no’ still feels like a possibility, but once those doors are opened… “Well,” says Gary. “Are we going to do this thing or what?” You know; what the hell. How it came about was this...
Submitted to Contest #99
“I remember growing up, when holidays took us with the predictability of the sunrise to a cottage in Brittany where the landscape was so similar to home as to make the whole thing seem almost as if the populace of a small French town had been moved to our back yard. I know people dream of visiting this place, think of it in some dream of rustic romance or something, but I was born and raised in the heart of the countryside. The biggest differences I could make out there was that I didn’t speak the language, and none of my friends were there....
So I’m bleeding to death with what must be a broken leg, almost certainly no ribs left in one piece, and bits of tooth swimming around the various fluids I keep spitting and dribbling out of my mouth. That’s not even mentioning the unholy shitstorm of ruptures, splits and failings that must be going on inside. It hurts. And what am I thinking? What bright shining light of wisdom and redemption is illuminating my sprawling mess of a thought process? Why didn’t I just admit th...
* This story uses some lyrics from Road To Nowhere by Talking Heads Well, we know where we’re going We set off after lunch and we drove all day and we drove into the night and we kept on going because that was the plan. Occasionally we stopped to switch drivers. One time, Ryan and I even switched as we drove, stretching and shuffling and twisting our limbs as we crossed over each other while the girls screamed at us from the back seat to just, for the love of god, stop. We were going up t...
It was hard to sleep. The constant buzzing, occasionally drowned out by a helicopter overhead. The helicopters were still patrolling then, surely a positive sign? Saul sat against the wall, lit by light coming in from the open kitchen and hall doors where nobody had bothered to turn the lights off. Everyone else was at least keeping up the pretence of sleep. He watched over the top of his knees, pulled up until they touched his nose. More buzzing outside, every now and then a thud against the ...
“You know,” you say. “I have to be at work in, like, four hours.” I look at my wrist, as if I’m wearing a watch. “That’s four hours,” I say. “Nothing to worry about yet. Right?” You sigh. “If you say so. I’d like some sleep though,” and you do sound kind of tired. “Sleep’s for the weak,” I tell you. “Don’t be weak,” and I slap you lightly on the arm. “W...
Shortlisted for Contest #98 ⭐️
The clouds tell stories. The clouds tell the past. I can see it all now. Lying on my back, barely conscious as we move forwards, cutting through hidden tributaries. Some of these we made ourselves. They afford camouflage, which gives us surprise, which gives us advantage. Shadows pass across my face. Occasionally, the sun intrudes. Such is its way. I swat my arm and it leaves me be. Another gnat. I watch the sky pass above. The clouds tell the future. And why not? The old man says we’re river folk. That’s the phrase he uses. I don’t know...
Submitted to Contest #97
It’s somewhere between 3 and 4. I try not to keep track of the time, but I know this much. I’ve mopped about half the floor, working my way backwards from the door. Everything’s restocked, so I can pretty much take my time. Which is just as well. I’m starting to feel it tonight, and I don’t want to have any more coffee, or I won’t get to sleep again. Already my stomach feels somewhat like a lake in a storm, sloshing about with nowhere to go. Then it happens and I exhale deeply and cross my internal fingers. &nbs...
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