Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020

Stories (53)

53 Stories

1024 karma pts

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“Declaration of Independence” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #66

“I told you not to buy one!” “Sweetie, this is a good thing. We never have to work again.” “But I want to work! I don’t want to end up like her, you know that.” “This is insane. You’re the only person to ever complain about winning the lottery. Like, ever.” I virtually never argued with my husband. This was a very special case. For sure, he always acted like...

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“Fifty/Fifty” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #66

"It doesn't count if you're already planning your defeat." Head Judge Foley spoke the words as Inmate A sat on the stool with his guitar, hopeless. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact like a young Perseus afraid of facing Medusa. "If you want to live another day, I suggest you give this performance your all." The poetry of his song impressed me. Both inmates undeniably had talent,...

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“On Death and Dating” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #65

I was taken by surprise when Heidi asked me out. “Taken by surprise” here means “positively and absolutely shattered into pieces by the sheer ludicrousness of it” of course. It’s not every day the head cheerleader randomly asks out the captain of the Mathletes. Besides, I was under the impression she was still dating Neil, even though he had left for a semester abroad out of the blue. For a second, I wo...

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“Last Train to Limbo” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #65

Writer’s Note – Trigger Warning: Story contains elements of suicidal thoughts. The nine o’clock train came and went. So did the quarter past nine train. They kept zooming down the tracks, one right after the other at dizzying speeds. Trains passed by all evening in the filthy subway station, and kids coming back from trick-or-treating rushed for the doors in their costumes every time with the inn...

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“Coven v. Coven” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #65

“Please tell me we’re getting closer. The witching hour is upon us, we shouldn’t waste this precious time wandering aimlessly.” “We’re almost there. Just trust me.” Margareta headed the group of women as they ventured down the thick forested path leading to the clearing in the heart of the woods, lanterns in hands. Branches poked the procession left and right, testing many a practitioner’s...

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“Haunters' Hunt” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #64

Lachlan and Nye knew very well a haunting’s success lied in the delicate relationship between the haunted and the haunters, just like the food chain relied on the eternal dance between the prey and the predator. A falcon dies without a mouse to feed on, and so do the disincarnate. The two spirits had haunted Quaver House for decades, and they had learned to successfully prey on the manor’s buyers, feeding on their fears ...

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“Paint Me Hell” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #64

According to the dusty archived book Otto had found in an obscure corner of the National Library while in Prague, Houska Castle had been built in the late 13th century under the instructions of a Bohemian king. No wonder the paintings in the chapel needed restoration work, he thought. After standing in disrepair for decades, the whole estate must have been in dire need of modernization. Truth be told, it might...

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“Dancing Flames” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #63

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. It was a gorgeous, searing, multicolored dance of flames tiptoeing along the branches; the blaze instantly made me forget about the windowless grey walls I had been staring at for the past four years. The trees must have combusted from the rays of gold filtering through the cotton candy clouds in the midday sky, I thought. Distant glimmers from a river of honey caug...

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“Code Name: Okto Mocha” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #63

Perhaps it was because the mild-weathered day had been particularly uneventful; perhaps it was because my mind had been adrift as I peered into the painted Caffeine Addict window; maybe it was simply due to how foreign and intangible the object felt; but as the cold metal of the gun barrel came into contact with my back, I struggled to process the situation I found myself in, even as shivers of fright crept up m...

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“Winning Ticket Blues” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #62

One in forty-seven million. Those were the odds of winning. The thought never even crossed Sarah’s mind while buying the ticket. It was nothing but a piece of paper, good to be shoved in her pocket in the name of a vague daydream and discarded after the wrong numbers had been drawn. Yet, there she was, paralyzed in the middle of the living room, one of the winning combinations in her hand. It was as thoug...

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“No Show Tunes in Delphi” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #62

I’m a theater kid. My parents were too, that’s how they met. I wish I could tell you it was during a rousing production of Phantom on the Broadway stage, or even on the Woodford Regional Community Center stage (there is NO small stage, ask any theater kid). In my version of the story, they were struck by the arrows of love while playing Christine and Raoul under the glittering crystal chandelier of the Paris Ope...

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“Bowties, Lipsticks & Guilt” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #62

Tick. Tock. With every cigarette puff he drew, Victor was reminded of the passing of time by the mechanical ticking of his watch as his wrist got sufficiently close to his ear for the sound to be audible. He could have gone without these steady reminders; it was about time he invested in a smart watch instead. Analog was being phased out for a reason. Ten seconds had passed since the cigarette ha...

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“Pick One” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #61

This wasn’t the first time Julie saw bickering parents fighting over the custody of their child, although it might have been the first time she saw such dedication to a counselling session that was going nowhere. By now, most couples would have given up and hired lawyers. Yet, both Harry and Carrie were still sitting there in front of her, their arms crossed, young Steven sandwiched between the two of them. ...

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“Her Own Mystery” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #61

“It’s in all the papers,” muttered Madge under her breath. “Her memory wiped out, just like that, out of the blue? This can’t be happening.”She was nervously pacing up and down the opulent Abney Hall corridor as Dr. Doyle clumsily attempted to reassure her. Each of her steps on the thick carpet sent a barely noticeable layer of dust flying into the air. This is exactly what was needed, she thought: for the dust to settle. Indeed, the events of the past few days had lifted a considerable amount of dust into public conscio...

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“You May Never Kiss the Bride” by Christopher Cayen-Cyr

Submitted to Contest #60

Time was running out; Fake Elvis did not seem to understand the urgency of the situation. In fact, he was so oblivious to it that Stella was dangerously close to grabbing his cheap guitar and smashing it violently on top of his slick black hair. “…for you can’t help falling in love with each other,” the impersonator slowly spoke, his overbearing enunciation betraying a certain level of drunkenness.

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Author bio

Aspiring author and screenwriter from Montreal. Sci-fi is my favorite 🔭⚗️📡 🎞I like to see my writing brought to life too, so sometimes I do it myself (wannabe director too). Check out my latest short film and leave a comment if you dare ;) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJxv1oAR7Ho 👾Twitter (for stray thoughts and observation + me doing the #100DaysOfCode challenge): https://twitter.com/CayenCyr 🎻Instagram (for me doing the #100DaysofPractice violin challenge, I'm a newbie): https://www.instagram.com/ccayencyr/?hl=en