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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021
Submitted to Contest #163
Get Packing“It’s twenty-eight dollars a month, Pap!” Beulah reminded Silas. “We need that money!” She firmed her lips, and he could see the muscles twitch in her jaw. Times like this, there was no reasoning with her. He tried anyway.“Whur you goin’ to get a horse?”She jerked her thumb eastward.“Wyatts.”Silas frowned. “Wyatts? Eugene uses that horse ever’ day! He cain’t spare —” He stopped, racked by a wheezing cough.“Not that horse. Bess.”“Bess?”“That all you can do, Pap? Repeat me? Yes — Bess. I’ll offer him fifty cents a week.”“For a ...
Submitted to Contest #159
The Emperor’s Bad NewsNot so many years ago, there lived an Emperor who loved new plants. He spent all of his spare time walking his vast gardens, hands clasped behind his back, contemplating how to make improvements.“Basil!” he would exclaim, and up would pop Basil, the Imperial Gardener.“Sire?”“There’s a bald patch!” “Not to worry, Sire. I have… Tergum copia!” And Basil would whip out a plant from the Imperial Garden Cart.The Emperor never noticed that each Tergum copia was different from the next. He didn’t know Latin, and so didn’t ...
Stop, Drop, and Roll Gloria did a drive-by again. It’s the opposite of a smash-and-grab. What she does is more of a “stop, drop, and roll”. She stops long enough to do a drop-off, then — on she rolls. We even have a name for it; we call it “getting Gloria’d”. We never know what’s going to be in the stash when she strikes. Usually there’s food. She helps the food bank clear out the week’s surplus before the next allocation arrives. “Just take everything!” they tell her, happy to be rid of it. She distributes her haul accor...
Submitted to Contest #156
Out of PrintHe was an unobtrusive character, one you wouldn’t look at twice if you passed him in the street.Drab and mousy, outfitted in neutral tones, he was just a wisp of a fellow. You might describe him as shadowy, furtive, ephemeral. His tweed overcoat, an odd blend of tan and grey, lent him the illusion of bulk. Where its collar — turned up at the back of his neck against the wind — met the back of his moleskin cap, there was a suggestion of almost colorless hair.Though young, he had an appearance at once world-weary and otherworl...
Submitted to Contest #154
When I Am An Old Woman Doris and I are having a bit of a tiff. She’s very polite at first, asking me to come in for coffee. I help by carrying the cups, while she reaches for a swirly glass bowl filled with cookies. The style looks like it came from Murano. “Have a seat,” she invites, indicating a Louis XVI chair upholstered with smoky blue brocade. “Oof!” I exclaim involuntarily. The chair is uncomfortable. Its pretty oval back is a smidge too convex, preventing me from leaning back. The seat is hard, and too shallow. “Somethi...
Submitted to Contest #152
Daze of the Weak (Miner Crisis)"Well, fellas, let's get going! The sooner we finish this job, the sooner we can head back home. Great breakfast, as usual, Hap!”Ralph Hale pushed away from the table, the legs of his chair scraping with a painful “Eeeee!” against the worn linoleum.Ralph, head of the geological survey project at Grimm's Gulch, was hardworking and capable. Somewhat of a fatherly type, he cared about his team and was always trying to do something for them. Everyone liked him.Everyone except for Farley Moon, who didn't like m...
Submitted to Contest #151
(Beta) 404 •Round 5Adam came to awareness gradually, as from a deep sleep. Memory crept in like an advancing tide, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Slowly, slowly, he opened his eyes.Cementerio de Santa Catalina.He was in the cemetery again — he, the living, among the dead.The randomizer was glitching.The first time, in Round 3, it had been a bit tricky to identify this location. Now he knew where he was. He seemed to be stuck in a Möbius strip.An infinite loop. His heart pounding so hard he could feel it in every part of hi...
Submitted to Contest #150
Recipe for Disaster “Recipes are just algorithms — right?”“Uh… yeah, in a way.”“So, do it. I dare you!”You don’t dare me when it comes to food preparation. Usually. Because I’ll take the challenge!I’m a competent cook — not a five-star Michelin chef, by any means. Who would want to be? Imagine the stress… it would take all the fun out of cooking!Which brings the side point: is cooking still actually fun, in my daily job?I’m not even sure whether I qualify as a chef. What is a chef, exactly? Technically, chef de cuisine is a fa...
Submitted to Contest #149
CW: mention of deathHeartSong Marci’s pulse hammers in her throat — WHOOMPwhoomp! WHOOMPwhoomp! WHOOMPwhoomp! — so fervently that it’s painful. After one sharp intake, her breath catches in her throat so she can’t speak. Can’t swallow.Her knuckles are white, one hand gripping Aaron’s and the other clenched on her lap. Had they heard correctly?Distantly, through layers of cotton batting in her head, Aaron’s question filters.“She - she has… what?” His voice is hoarse, ragged.Dr. Greenberg repeats, gently, what they hoped they ha...
Submitted to Contest #147
Remembrance=DRAFT=NOTE: DELETE COMMENTARY BEFORE SENDING!!My dear family and friends, I have been tasked with asked to write an obituary and eulogy for Aunt Opaline.(None of you want to tackle trying to figure out how to say something nice about her, and you pretend that you chose me because I have “a way with words”. Speaking of words, the word “eulogy” comes from the Greek “eulogia”. It means “praise”.This is going to be difficult.)I will share with you what I’ve written, and you feel free to let me know if there are any inaccura...
Submitted to Contest #146
Ruthie Runs for President Sophomore (noun): soph·o·more | \ ˈsäf-ˌmȯr, also ˈsȯf-, or ˈsä-fə-, or ˈsȯ-fə- \ Definition: a student in the second year at college or a 4-year secondary school History and Etymology: perhaps from Greek sophos wise + mōros foolish 🕗 It started as a prank. In late fall, we had nominations for spring student government. One of the “wise fools” decided to nominate Ruthie for sophomore class president of the spring semester. Ruthie. Ruthie was not one of the popular pack who...
Submitted to Contest #144
Life in Black and White Behind the lens “Just scooch in a little closer — there you go! Thank you. Now, hold the pose… just a few seconds… look right here and smile!…” Click! Whrrr… “Beautiful!” Clint was satisfied. He had a feeling this one would turn out well — a photograph that told a story without words. A story of the love of a father for his children. It was Clint’s dream to open his own photography studio someday. Until then, it was a hobby. His fascination with photography had begun when he was young, maybe the age of the boy...
Submitted to Contest #143
Obvious Plants“I need a plant!” The meticulously dressed, fiftyish woman leaned over the counter and spoke in a low murmur.Lily smiled encouragingly. Sometimes the first visit was a little disconcerting.“Well, as you can see,” she indicated, waving her arm, “we’re all about plants here.” She waited.“I’ve been told this is the place — ” the woman’s voice dropped further, to an almost inaudible but urgent whisper, “to obtain a ‘plant’.” As she mouthed the last word, she brought her hands discreetly in front of herself and wiggled her...
Submitted to Contest #141
HOOK!Gotcha, didn’t I?They say you should always start with a good hook, so that’s what I did. And it worked. You’re still reading.(Who are “they”, those incognito authorities on every topic from aa to Zyzyxia lundelii?Or, in this case, from fishing to literature?Because both of those involve hooks.)Since we’re already using the fishing metaphor, let’s determine an appropriate setting. Setting is important. It helps the reader become immersed in the story.Fishing — literal fishing, not literary fishing — requires water. Ocean? Lake...
Submitted to Contest #139
Beauty for Ashes Dry lightning cracks the brooding sky, pointing sharp fingers at parched earth. A tiny spark, skipping to a clump of scrubby, desiccated vegetation, ignites the tip of a woody stem - transforming drab, grayish brown to deep, glowing orange. The pungent odor hanging in the air is sweet, with a tang of metallic sharpness.##########“It’s so peaceful up here,” Bonnie sighed. “Aren’t you glad we came?” She set two plain stoneware mugs carefully on the railing and moved in close to her husband, taking in the panoramic view. “...
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