Christopher G

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2019

Stories (13)

13 Stories

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“Withering Dreams On An Autumn's Evening” by Christopher G

“By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire,” thought Kurt Lawson as he strummed his harp in an uncomfortable chair beside his grandmother Iris who lay on the cheaply built hospital bed. Not a modicum of sentience coursed through her rapidly dying body. Her own name roused irony as her irises were tinted a milky and discolored gray from their usual beam of intoxicatingly icy blue. Iris had taught Kurt to play the instrument, and he, like any perfectionist, sharpened his skills so that it would be virtually impossible to discer...

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“Zaphkiel” by Christopher G

The walls are decrepit and painted over with a shade of baby blue that reminded me of an infant’s room, oddly enough. The room itself was nothing more than a crib with four walls with a hard surface beneath us that had no place being in a crib. But neither do soft things either, apparently. It was difficult to think with the stifled crying and outright sobbing that permeated the horrible room. At least the local church was kind enough to lend us their most horrible room at our convenience every Wednesday night. Ev...

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“Prideful Beginnings” by Christopher G

Amends are meant to be made. But some are never carried through, no matter how badly one may want it because sometimes Lady Luck lives in the jaded, dirty floor of gas stop restrooms, with urine and feces and needles lain all upon her fragile self. But not for Jerry. For Jerry was a proud man. Not the sense of pride of actual individual merit of accomplishment, but because he’d just won the lottery not three weeks ago. He’d been paying “the poor man’s tax” since the Clintons held office. The hope he held onto for ...

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“Love, Eternal” by Christopher G

The walls are painted white. Too white that it makes me uncomfortable. It reminds me of being alone with no one to catch you when you are falling. But if it was blue or some other color, I probably would just find other fears to attach to the simple color of the wall. I can deal with the floor because it seems more tangible. I can feel it beneath my feet, when I walked into the room, signed in, and sat on the cold, hard chairs. I can at least still feel the floor, to let me know that I won’t fall into a botto...

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“Budding Embers” by Christopher G

Johnny is a tough guy. But he’s also an aspiring writer of sorts. I’ve heard the two don’t usually mix—toughness and writers. But somehow, he makes it work. He’ll jot down poems whenever a bolt of inspiration strikes his shaved head. A tragic event is almost always the catalyst to his art, always has been. And in our lives, tragedy was a tenant that didn’t pay rent. Johnny has always been my compass for right and wrong, since Papa worked two jobs and was drunk most of the time he wasn’t working. Mom...

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“The Suicide King” by Christopher G

The middle-aged man sat in the black 1972 Chevy Nova and tore the plastic from the overpriced deck of cards he purchased from the closest operating store located in butt-fuck nowhere. He assumed the cards ran for at least half the price in the city but was glad the store carried playing cards rather than having to worry about the lower price of them in a town farther away. He pulled the cards from the cheap cardboard package and shuffled twice before meticulously selecting one from the deck. Traditionally, most people pick ...

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“They Come Back” by Christopher G

There are moments you never forget. The first time you tasted alcohol. The first time you vomited from alcohol. Losing your virginity. The day you get married. And the day your child is born into the world. A clichĂ© in itself, albeit true, does suffice to say there isn’t anything more important at that very moment. Looking into his almond black eyes and mostly bald head reminded me of the brevity of life. I held my wife’s hand as she gazed upon the two of us as we all finally made our acquaintances ...

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“Love & The Oxford Comma” by Christopher G

To the most infuriating man in the world,I don’t blame you. Never once have I. Until now. Choosing to abandon me because you are unable to fathom hurting me again is not you---the man I had no choice in loving. I believed you to be one of the most courageous men I’ve ever come across. Yet you betray those beliefs with your actions. Abandoning me will not solve your problems. It only leaves you with more. But you will survive, only survive and nothing more. I don't say this from a stance of narcissism but of the peace we ...

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“A Clown & His Horse” by Christopher G

Well, another job is complete. It was time to take off the makeup and wig and put on my other mask—the one that isn’t real but is only composed of smiles and cheery anecdotes. I’m a child entertainer by day, singing and dancing in a clown suit, and a custodian by night, sweeping and mopping in a one-piece jumper. After a while, it all kind of blends together. Like a cocktail of minimum wage and sweat-stained uniforms. And forget about sleep. I am constantly snuffing out yawns as I barrel through the workday a...

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“And If You Pardon Me” by Christopher G

“
And if you pardon me
da-da-da-da
forever in blue jeans...” I sang in the voice of a seasoned smoker, out of tune with Mr. Diamond’s static-soaked voice on the radio that lay dangerously close to my aged CB. I sighed with a stoic acceptance that it wasn’t in the cards for me to become the next Neil Diamond, not even with liquid courage in the shabbiest of karaoke dive bars. As a matter of fact, my voice could probably make a deaf person blind. No, there is no logic behind that hyperbole, but these are the type of philosoph...

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“Green is the Color of Friendship” by Christopher G

The only time I’ve dealt with death was with my hamster, Chubs. He died a quiet death for unknown reasons. An autopsy wasn’t performed, why would anyone? But for the body that lies in front of me, an autopsy was surely to be performed by a coroner. Why wouldn’t it? Luther was in my dorm hall drinking, but he passed out in the hallway. People stepped over him, thinking he was another drunken college student. But he wasn’t drunk. He was dead. And he wasn’t a student. ...

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“The Starlit Vixen and The Fox” by Christopher G

The only peaceful spot to rest your head at Moonlight Vixen’s Gentlemen’s Club was outside on a dead patch of grass. If business is slow, which it has been as of late, I’d step outside and lay my head down, looking at the sky full of stars and the moon. It was full and bright tonight, a stark contrast inside of the Moonlight Vixen’s Gentlemen’s Club.  It isn’t the most glamorous place to work. Especially if you’re a stripper—excuse me—dancer. I’ve been interim manager since my dad has been in the hospi...

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“Rainey” by Christopher G

Rainey I know people say that becoming a mother changes you, but I really haven’t changed all that much. All the bridges I’ve built upon the years have been charred to a crisp. My recent ex-boyfriend finally had enough of my antics, as he referred to them. I call them the enigma of human emotions. So, what that I lit his clothes on fire and broke his guitar because I found him talking to another woman who isn’t me. But I had to suppress any emotions I had about our squabbl...

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Author bio

Freelance writer. Psychology. Fitness. Sapience. Positive vibes. Pretty lazy writer, didn't even use whole sentences in the bio, am I right? In the eclectic words of Charles Bukowski, "An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way." đŸ€˜đŸ„ƒđŸ