Christine Johnson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2019

Stories (24)

24 Stories

481 karma pts

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“Red” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #242

The curator prepares my crate for departure. It was not supposed to be this way. My long-term exhibition cut short by the damn kid in white. I think you would feel the same way if you knew my story. For years, I sat above the mantle in a stuffy newly decorated poorly done vintage-vibe den in a benefactor of a benefactor’s home. He had me outlined in mahogany to emphasize my red dress. I am not sure if my creator was trying to highlight my wearables, but this so-called art affinando chose my red dress as the element he car...

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“Crazy Aunt Kim’s Magical Whim” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #240

She looks at me frightened. Sitting on the couch in my living room, she peers out the window at the storm rolling in. Against the solid grey skies, the whites of her eyes nearly pop in front of her pupils. I don’t blame her for being scared. Her mother, my sister-in-law, dropped her off here. Here at “Crazy Aunt Kim’s” for the weekend so she and her boyfriend could escape the eastern seaboard’s winter wrath to the shores of the Bahamas. Her first boyfriend since my brother’s death. “You can take care of her for ...

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“Equal Nothings” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #236

I find great therapy tugging the thin film out of its plastic path. I don’t destroy the cassette tape like you might have seen in commercials or music videos where it looks like streamers being launched. I pull it out inch by inch, staring at its brown luster against the kitchen’s fluorescent lighting. It would be easier to fling the electromagnetic flux especially with three shoe boxes full piled next to me. But to destroy them with vigor would mean that they actually mean something to me and they don’t. I found them i...

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“Adult Lullaby” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #234

Cate had tried this combination at least a dozen times before. Warm bath, bottle three-quarters filled with formula, and the donkey and the cow book read twice, the first time with animal sounds and the second time only reading the words all with the hope to lull Jana, her eight-month-old daughter, into a sleepy trance. When Jana’s eyes would close and remain closed for more than a minute to ensure the slumber spell had taken full effect, Cate would lay Jana down in her crib and creep out on tip toes only to hear Jana’s screams befor...

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“A Corrugated Dismissal” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #109

I wonder if I should take the stapler or is it theirs? After near twenty years, I am not sure where the laws of personal property delineate between ownership through purchase and ownership through usage. And paperclips. Are they inventoried? Will they come after me if the wire basket is short a few? I have never been fired before so I am not exactly sure what is the proper protocol for packing up my desk. “Laid off due to downsizing” is what Alissa the messenger said as I flipped the fifteen pages of the severance ...

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“The Ageless Bliss of Defying Gravity” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #77

They both reluctantly opened the car door and stepped outside into the warm winter sun on the cold day. While the weather for February was not frigid, it was still cold enough that she could see his long exhales plume and evaporate and hear his boots crunch the new snow covering the parking lot. He grabbed her padded nylon-covered hand as they headed to the entrance. She smiled at his gesture believing she could feel his youthful enthusiasm rising as he grasped her fingers tighter. It was two weeks ago that they decided ...

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“Traction” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #74

I stare at the hardened molded plastic and metal glad I cannot see the wires inside that make the treadmill smarter than me. Its lights recognize me and encourage me to step onto the deck and take the belt for a spin. It can’t talk, but if it could it would want to know what the hell happened to my visits. “Thought the couch kidnapped you.” “You look thicker and sad.” The treadmill would be right on all accounts and more. I haven’t been to the gym since my daughter was born. She is three. I haven’t been to t...

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“Dangling the Dough” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #71

I stared at his flannel shirt. He looked much younger than his eighty-six years. His mind however far exceeded his age to the point most of his memories were locked deep in his brain as to open the way for rare moments of clarity. His moments of presence had lessened lately. Maybe that’s why my sister and my brothers visit him less. And maybe why I visit him more. The journey with my grandfather started years ago when my mom was still alive. As teens, we would visit his long-term care facility to see the young...

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“The Crier’s White Handkerchief” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #59

Crestwood sits one cracked blacktop road away from the state route that connects the town to the six-lane freeway. Labeled a “sleepy town” by those in the big city, Dewayne considers the town a napping community with enough action to keep the locals lively, but enough quiet to take a nap on a hammock in the yard. The tavern on North Street holds an all you can eat fish fry and dollar beer steins once a month. And every Sunday, Crestwood’s population nearly doubles for three hours when the mega church holds their ten o’clock se...

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“The Harmony of Shall and Will” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #53

I sit by the phone and wait for it to ring. I have never done this before. Who rings me anyway? My friends text or snap me. My parents know it is worthless to call me because I will not answer even if they call me five times in a row. If they text, I will respond immediately. Now I am at the mercy of my cell phone’s ring tone to find out whether or not I received a full scholarship to the University five days before I am due on campus. I had given up hope of going to the University. Even with financ...

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“Her Side of the Ring” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #50

I thought she would have proposed last week. Her family threw a seventy-fifth birthday party for her uncle. Over hundred in attendance. Everyone was there, including my parents. Loriann excels at working the crowd, not afraid of being the center of attention. I was positive she would propose on the lawn in front of the tent-covered dance floor as darkness rose. After I said yes, we would be welcomed with clap-like-you-mean-it applause and dance to a slow country twang under the twinkling lights strewn on the metal...

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“Feigning Tales” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #49

He arrives at the bench early, sitting about six inches to the left of the sun shade line. He measures his wait by how many times he has to scoot further to the left before his departure. He did not need to come out as early as he did. He knew it only increased the uneasy feeling that flowed through his belly, but the longer he remained close to the bathroom, the more he wanted to throw up. He had done his best to stay busy this morning. He made his bed and cleaned his side of the room. The distinction between his ...

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“Simple Odds” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #47

The sun blazes down on the blacktop outside your garage. You stand with your hand in a lowered salute to cover your eyes from the brightness of the rays. You turn your head to survey the cramped hatch of your SUV. A checklist of the contents secured under a clip board’s claw. You feel like Santa checking the list not only once but twice. No one wants to be without a key element when executing a marriage proposal. When you began planning to ask Anne to be your missus months ago, the plan was almost self-writte...

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“Bookmarks” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #42

His name is misspelled on his headstone. I notice this as I stand at his grave for the first time since the funeral. Over a year ago I stood near this same spot as my dad’s casket was lowered into the ground. I didn’t think I would ever be able to move from the spot. It was the closest I would ever be to my dad. My aunt had to lead me by the hand to the car so I could be one of the guests of honor at the memorial luncheon. I don’t remember walking or getting in the car or arriving at the restaurant, but the stac...

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“The Widow’s Web” by Christine Johnson

Submitted to Contest #37

Words are hard to say when you realize your beloved white porcelain cat figurine with green gem eyes has disappeared. I live by myself since my husband died four years past, I don’t know who could have taken it.Maybe it was one of my live furballs? Dizzy dangles her tail lower today, a sure sign of guilty suspicion. Mabel, the tabby, loves to cuddle, but she stays away at this hour. I watch the shrewd scavenger burrow herself into every cushion and pillow only to reappear the moment I start to suspect she has suffocated h...

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Author bio

Biz professional pursuing my dream of writing. Finished draft of 120k word book and now figuring out what to do next. Have two other book ideas, but need something with more immediate gratification so I am returning to writing short stories. All three of my book ideas started from writing prompts on Reedsy. I am excited to see where my new short stories may take me.

Shortlisted 2 stories ⭐️

Contest #27

Track Therapy – read story

Contest #22

Winter Gardening – read story