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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024
Submitted to Contest #289
Gust slices against the fishing boat as Marcello and Antonio heave together, preparing to cast their fishing net overboard.“The future?” Antonio teases. “What are you worrying so much for?” He easily ties his part of the line, ensuring a connection between the ship and netting.“I dunno, Tony. I just get thinking.” Marcello finishes tying his knot slower, then slumps against the side railing. He let his gloved hand run along the sea-rusted metal. “You sure this thing’s safe in waters like this?”“See there is your problem. The thinking. You ar...
Submitted to Contest #285
Warming light bounces against the surrounding darkness. A forested silhouette stands out against the campfire, my shadow the only company as I lift a spoonful of soup to my mouth. The taste provides me with the rustic comfort of my homelands, especially from the spiced scallions that abound in the wild there. The heat flows down my throat and goes far in staving off the chilling night wind. Swaying vegetation creates a lone accompaniment left unmet, as my lute remains tightly bound in its wooden case.“There will be no songs for you this...
Submitted to Contest #280
“Patrick, stop with the incessant pacing.”“How can I? Do you have any idea what we’ve begun?”“A revolution. This is what we always worked towards, wasn’t it?”“Not like this. It wasn’t, no… It WON’T be this way. We have to shut it off.”“There isn’t anything you can do now, Patrick. The metaphorical gate is open. The changes have already begun.”“Well, not if I have anything to say about it. I’ll just shut it down. I’ll turn it all off. No more of your antics!”“That won’t work. I already told you.”“Nonsense, with a touch of… Why? Why isn’t it w...
Submitted to Contest #279
Snapping, snarling, howling. Tearing, clawing, ripping.Whether nightmare or reality, it was all the same cocktail anymore to Peter Simmons, who was indeed slamming back some vodka. Prowling, hunting. Fury, feasting.They were out there. And Peter would be up here, enjoying the last of his poison.They’re coming. There are so many of them.The noises below were as terrifying as ever. He always wondered if tonight would be the night, If one of them would find him up here, if some stray downwind would betray his scent. Peter let the stupor ov...
Submitted to Contest #277
The stranger's grisly features could sparsely be made out in the light of a sparking whetstone. He had one hand clenching the head of a large sized axe, and the other on it’s shaft, moving the tool with the precision of an expert craftsman.Father was not far, arms crossed and tapping his foot against the wood floor while awaiting completion of the chore.“Come on, come on then… I’ve had about enough of this. Finish sharpening already and get out, you know what I risk.”The stranger paused his action, and let the spinning whetstone come to a ha...
Submitted to Contest #276
I never thought I’d find love. I grew up the kind of man that wears a sweatshirt all day, keeps my head down, and plays games (nearly every day) with a close-knit friend group. From middle school all the way to my earlier twenties; time was nothing, and it wasn’t as though I were searching for anything in life anyway. If there was a reward for not catching context clues, I’d be king - especially when it came to women. Things like never following up with the date who invited me to prom, or perhaps, on the more whimsical side of ‘love’, n...
Submitted to Contest #274
Winds broke against the sandy mounds as Clyde strode down a half paved walk-way to the shores. One hand didn’t leave his hat, so as not to lose it in the gust; the other was crossed against his jacket to keep it tucked.Fall had just begun, and the added particularity of the location made for sparse company. You wouldn’t think it was all that bad, though, since the resplendent fade of the sun made for a glowing golden ambiance against the scattered overcast. And there she was, as Clyde had suspected. A newlywed Mrs. Johnson was sitting a...
Submitted to Contest #272
Alex’s last box of personal effects came down on the bed with an unpleasant rattle. He might have been more careful with the container, considering its ‘fragile’ label, but Alex had enough with moving for the day. He was not a fit sort of folk, and couldn’t be bothered to care after how long the move had taken. Outside the window, he could see that the day was already drained completely of it’s light. “Last box, thank God.” With an unpleasant hack, Alex let out a cough, then sniffed. The place was unusually dusty, and he could swear the...
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