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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023
Submitted to Contest #288
I’m an inveterate people watcher. Everyone has a story. Some tragic, some heroic—most just mind-numbingly mundane. The woman in the cubicle to my left shuffles papers at a blue-collar business—an auto parts company. Thin and mousy, she wears tight jeans and an oversized pink sweatshirt—twenty years out of style. She graduated from a rural high school that offered no AP classes. She’s the single mother of two boys—ages eight and ten. Both are brats. When they go to sleep, she watches slasher films—she’s seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre ...
Submitted to Contest #283
Four hours until midnight. Then it’ll all be over. Thank God. Death Watch officially begins seven days before the execution. That’s a long week. It’s been forever since I’ve seen my family. Once this is done, we’ll make up for lost time. The decision to schedule the first execution of the year at precisely 12:01 a.m.—midnight leaves a nagging doubt as to what day it actually is—puts quite the crimp on the holiday plans. Hard to enjoy eggnog around the tree with the fam when you know what’s about to go down. One minute aft...
Submitted to Contest #246
“It’s hide-and-seek, not hide-and-go-seek.” Gillian clenched her little fists into balls. Braylen was about to see the receiving end of those fists. The little brat. He enjoyed being difficult. “It’s hide-and-go-seek, dipwad. Once you hide, everybody goes and seeks you. You can’t seek if you don’t go.” Gillian put her hands on her hips. “You’re the dipwad, dipwad. Going is implied. You don’t need to include it in the name. It’s soccer, not go-and-play-soccer.” “Whatever, twattlebreath.” “Scumbucket.” “Barfbrain.” “Roachsucker.” The tra...
Submitted to Contest #199
If I had known it was a concert for Jesus freaks, I never would have come. But it was too late now. My sister had been trying to convert me for years. I thought she might have given up, accepted my indifference. I was wrong. I should have seen the signs. All the WWJD bumper stickers. The denim skirts. The nauseating niceness. At least we were in an iconic place—Texas Stadium, home of the Dallas Cowboys. It was drenched in history, more famous than the Alamo. I was never a football fan but our dad was. I remember Tom Landry an...
Submitted to Contest #198
The day was shaping up to be a miasma of mediocrity, a mind-numbing morass of sameness that threatened to put me in a coma. Be on time. Respect yourself and others. Put away your phones. It’s not that the teachers were ogres—they were just the opposite. They had their rules, yes, but mostly they were nice, supportive, there for you. We’re going to have a great year. You have so much potential. My door is always open. I would almost rather hear: Be on time or I’ll slam the door in your face and send your butt home. If I see a phon...
Submitted to Contest #192
In the city where I grew up, there were two downtowns: the current one and the older one. The older one used to comprise the main thoroughfares before being supplanted by the hipper, more upscale version. For some reason (and I’ve verified this with others who have shared similar observations about their towns) the older, faded downtown is always south of the newer, brighter one. Progress always move north, I suppose. Nothing is nice in this older downtown. The sidewalks are crumbling. The street signs are old. Even the grass and tre...
Submitted to Contest #191
It’s not easy getting fired. It’s not just the loss of income, the burden of looking for another job, the uncomfortable position you find yourself in when on your next job application you’re asked if you’ve ever been terminated: Do you tell the truth or stretch the truth or outright lie? But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is knowing you didn’t make the cut. You weren’t good enough. You weren’t one of us. Anyone can make a mistake. They could have overlooked it, found a way to work through it. But they jumped on it, li...
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