Carlos L. Delgado

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020

Stories (7)

7 Stories

108 karma pts

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“An Epic Run” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #80

Sentinels scoured the sky. The Empire was strong. The Atalanta dominated the crash-site like a space-faring whale washed ashore. A swarm of salvage drones buzzed around the Imperial wreckage, picking and scraping at the mechanical corpse. Overhead, a lone sentinel thrummed, its single red eye scanning the scorched earth, smoldering like a furious ember.  “Here we go,” Komara said, hidden amongst the debris. Then she flipped the switch on her belt. After weeks of pouring over blueprints and calculations, she’d successfully...

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“Watch for the Talon” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #79

Lord Manuel Manchuela III, Prince of Girona, gripped the playbill tight in his gloved hand, struggling to suppress his restless aura. Lady Isabella’s invitation hadn’t come as a surprise. Catalonia, as a whole, was on the verge of a great awakening; mills, factories, machines, forges—modernity approached, and she, like the rest of the court, simply sought her place in the era to come. But how? he wondered. Poison, perhaps? Why can’t it just be a duel to the death?“My lord,” one of his newest guards called through the box seat curtains. “Lady...

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“Gene Vs. The World” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #77

Smoke hissed from Mondress Kika Teluwon’s wrists as she struggled against the humming particle chains. She bit her lip through the pain. The laboratory’s cold sterility reminded her of her father’s experiment chamber back at the palace. Though the sweaty little human standing before her could never hope to reach his achievements. Her father developed the omniglotter she wore around her neck, allowing her to communicate with any form of sentient life—for all the good it was doing her now. “I will be free of these bindings,” she groaned. “An...

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“The Unspoken Truths” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #76

THE ANALYST ran her pale fingers over the intricate grooves covering the crystalline surface of the recovered airship lacrima, rousing the souls stored within. Shareholders—wearing fine silk robes, cascades of jewelry, and colorful Sashes of station—whispered into their sleeves while others made a show of pointing out the soul-shards placed before each seated attendant. Opposite the Analyst, far at the head of the bustling boardroom table, a sash-less greybeard glowered at her, unwavering. Above him, the stuffed and mounted head of an ursoka...

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“Pinot and Paints” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #75

BRUNO squirmed in the driver’s seat of his bulletproof BMW as he squeezed the wrinkled tubes in his basket of supplies, warming the paints before class, as he did every Tuesday night. He was known as an artist with violence, a savant with assassinations, but he considered himself an absolute oaf with oils. However, Pinot and Paints didn’t promise to train world-class killers. Instead, Mona promised her students a “colorful and boozy respite from the spiritual assault of the day-to-day—whether you’re in HR or the mob.”  Bruno’s pager w...

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“Under the Red Moon” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #74

A bloody, full moon hung low in the night sky, drawing wicked shadows across Peros, the city of love. Tryst lay dead under a balcony in the flower garden behind the mayor’s villa, a bouquet of black roses gripped tight in his left hand and an empty vial in the other. Thorns pierced his palm, though his blood stopped flowing hours ago.Then he gasped to life.Pain.Tryst thrashed about, screaming. Why was he alive? Why was he away from her? Darkness. All he saw was darkness. And the whispers—they spoke horrible, inescapable truths directly into ...

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“The Sunbird Cage” by Carlos L. Delgado

Submitted to Contest #73

Charo Hendrix awoke with a groan. She slammed down on her blaring alarm clock—a whining, syncopated melody. Neon light poured through polyester curtains, painting the cramped bedroom in fluorescent shadows. Charo sighed. Time to rise from the ashes. “Beepo,” she said, still tangled in her sheets. “Start coffee, please, and thanks.” “Of course, ma’am,” said the apartment AI in a posh tenor—a new setting she downloaded from the manufacturer. From bed, Charo could hear the coffee machine grind to life in the kitchen—which made sense becau...

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