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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019
Submitted to Contest #324
It was a Monday afternoon, and I was stuck behind the register because Garf was running late to work. Again. I told Mark, not to hire that lazy POS. It had been over an hour since the shift change was supposed to happen and I was beginning to feel antsy, unmoored, like I'd been left out to sea. We'd been biblically fucked today. Being short-staffed at the only deli in a tourist town during peak season already sucks. Now add to that the fact my shift relief, my rescue, was nowhere to be seen? There's a reason the ski patrollers fired him.To b...
Submitted to Contest #273
The door on the street didn't look like any of the others, but it also didn't have any traits that signified it was special. Actually, it looked shabby. A tall, wood planked portal, peeling. A shaft stuck out a few inches from the center, a round ball at the end. When I reached my hand out to grip it, I had the thought that it wouldn't be the kind that turned. Instantly, the voice in my earbud, more high tech than the door it had led me to, confirmed this thought.It doesn't open, She said. But they will know. Her voice...
Submitted to Contest #177
Liam paces up and down the grocery store aisles. His movement is rapid, frantic even, fingers drumming against his sides at different intervals like hatches not battened in a storm.His eyes scan up, down, across the shelves — searching, searching, searching. A desperate gaze probing waves of colors and shapes and heights clashing so heavily they homogenize. Where is it, he says, where could it be? It was here, I know it was here.He thinks he knows it was here, at least. If he doesn’t find it, he’s not sure what to do. “It” being a small...
Submitted to Contest #90
It was a sleepy afternoon under the Motherly Tree on Moss Street when a ferocious sound woke Ezra.Before Ezra could clearly see what was producing the snarling noise, a whiff of an unwonted and putrid smell wrinkled their nose.A clawing grind ripped through the still morning. Ezra looked towards its source, in time to see the growling edges of a gas-powered chainsaw, gripped by a large person, dig deeply into the fleshy wood of a nearby tree trunk.“Oh.”Saw dust filled the air, taking the space where Ezra wished their own cries could go. They...
Submitted to Contest #61
“Good morning everyone.” Mr. Johnstone walked into the room with a smile and the air of someone who held an exciting secret to spill. All around him, a flurry of tablets and smartphones darted beneath desks as thirty-odd teenage students silenced the buzz of media clips and sports highlights from playing out loud. Several of them slouched low into their seats, discreetly pushing wireless headphones into their ears as they did. From the back of the room, Trev thumbed listlessly through his phone, trying to scroll his way through whatever hist...
Submitted to Contest #38
John stared at the blinking cursor on his computer screen, willing it to make words appear without his help. He looked maliciously towards the clock, tick-tocking ever closer to a deadline he was nowhere close to meeting. From the desk in his home office, John could see his son Ben sitting on the couch. Ben was also nose-deep in a computer, although he seemed to be having more success than his dad. Something on the screen caused a broad smile to stretch across Ben’s face. His happiness drifted through the air, nearly reaching John, until—&nb...
Submitted to Contest #35
A couple of mornings ago, I woke up with an idea. It was they type of idea that only lasts for a second—the kind that you wave from your brain almost immediately, but not before it leaves spores on your thoughts, spreading its impression. The thought reappears on a walk, or making groceries. Sometimes its an hour later, maybe days; every time it shows up it stays around just a little longer. Eventually the idea I woke up with became that kind of thought which keeps showing up again—the kind of thought Mom used to call “peeking desires” Its t...
Submitted to Contest #32
Milan Boudreaux had never heard a sound as simple yet terrifying as the pop of the glass jar which had shattered into a thousand just pieces six-feet across his room. Sand fell upon his head. He braced for his mother’s reaction. This was the third time that she would walk into a room of sand which Milan couldn’t explain. She was stupefied as to why her son kept leaving heaps of sediment all over the floor of their shotgun house. Milan was too. Strange things had been happening to him for nearly two years. Turning glass into sand brough...
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