Craig Westmore

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021

Stories (12)

12 Stories

727 karma pts

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“Shadow Muse” by Craig Westmore

The only car they saw this far up the mountain skidded around the curve, drove directly at them, and lurched back into its lane. Its left headlight flickered like the twitchy eye of a madman. Adam held his foot over the brake in case it swerved again. As it gunned past them, little Lucy waved from the backseat of the van. The car’s taillights blinked back at her and disappeared around the bend. Adam cursed the dri...

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“Ohi’a Lehua” by Craig Westmore

According to Hawaiian legend, the Volcano goddess, Pele, fell in love with a young man named Ohi’a. She tried to flirt with the handsome man but he rejected her. He was already in love with a young woman named Lehua. No one ever refused Pele and in a fit of jealousy, she turned Ohi’a into a tree. Lehua was devastated by the transformation and remained inconsolable. The other gods took pity on Lehua. They turned her into a flower and placed her on the tree of her lover. Hawaiians believe when someone plucks a flower from the Ohi’a Lehua tr...

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“The Information Revolution” by Craig Westmore

Once a month on a random day, Hazel woke at the crack of dawn with a cup of blood that she had bought at the local butcher shop which she dumped on the steps of the mega bookstore chain—just beyond the reach of the security cameras. Some days she jogged; some days she rode her bike. But she would always stop in the parking lot to catch her breath, and with no one around, she would casually pour out the cup at a height th...

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“The Number One Fear” by Craig Westmore

Does the thought of speaking in front of a large group make you nauseous? Do you stay awake the night before a speech? Do your hands shake? Does your mind go blank? To achieve success in the world today, people need to present their ideas with force and impact. Don’t let life pass you by! Speaking worries are a treatable problem. In this class you will learn to overcome your discomfort. With the help ...

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“Summer's End” by Craig Westmore

Jack looked forward to Labor Day weekend: three days off with nothing to do but relax. On Saturday, he slept in. In fact, the morning was so enjoyable that by the time he had fully woken up, read the paper and showered, it was lunchtime. He watched Stanford football in the afternoon and a couple of movies with Ellen that night. The next morning, he headed over to his favorite bookstore and came home with three spy novel...

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“Mosquito Men of the Mata Atlântica” by Craig Westmore

Okay, so there wasn’t actually an astronomy salesman at the store peddling telescopes and promising me a wonderful evening on my balcony watching celestial objects like the moons of Jupiter. I dished out two thousand reais–roughly three hundred and sixty dollars–for a StarBlast refractor telescope because the picture on the box showed a father hovering over his son who looked through the telescope with his lips pursed i...

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“Something Noble Said” by Craig Westmore

The Valley Oak shopping plaza had been designed to attract people throughout the day. Customers started at Bugles Bagels, got coffee at The Last Drop, ate their breakfast on the patio then browsed the bookstore and clothing boutiques until the start of an afternoon matinee at the independent movie theatre. Gourmet restaurants and night clubs lured cinephiles to round out the day and stay for the night. Down the ...

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“A Walk in the Park” by Craig Westmore

The morning gloom had lifted and the day turned a shade of blue that made me want to run and play. The breeze smelled of hay from the stables, lilacs from the botanical gardens and the sweet grass that lay before me. Blankets stretched out on the lawn with picnic baskets and coolers and more food than anyone could possibly eat. Two guys tossed around a frisbee but one of them should really throw it out so the other coul...

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“The Voice in the Dark” by Craig Westmore

CW: verbal abuse, cult influence, hints of domestic violence A cool breeze drifted in from the bay and pushed the night clouds further east. The waxing gibbous moon appeared through the haze and exposed the darkest corners of the campus. Rita waited behind a maple tree for the last of the adult education students to leave. Every Monday evening when the parking lot had emptied, the senior members of the Self-Act C...

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“A Philosophy of Thieves” by Craig Westmore

Dona Oliveira pulled out her husband’s favorite calabash gourd, the one that had never touched honey or sugar, and stuffed it with the dry leaves of the erva-maté. Her husband liked to think of himself as a Gaucho, a South American cowboy of the Pampas but he was just an old thief from Rio Grande do Sul who drank his tea in the tradition of southern Brazilians–bitter. The late morning sun peeked through the Arau...

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“What Child Is This” by Craig Westmore

For the last song of the Christmas Eve service, twenty beaming six-year-old girls dressed as elves stood on the steps of the altar and, smack dab in the middle of them, a single boy with arms folded tight and a face scrunched up even tighter. He wore a Santa coat and hat that stood out like a spotlight against the girls’ velvet green dresses. Beth had planned on placing the stubborn, young man in the back to min...

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“The Kiosk” by Craig Westmore

No one got passed them. The seasonal kiosk had been placed in the middle of the Pleasanton shopping mall along the only thoroughfare between the two major department stores. The company that rented it had employed an army of eight product presenters. They were carefully chosen for their social skills and well-trained for sales. They stood in formation, two to a side, prepped for the next wave of shoppers. An at...

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Author bio

I was born and raised in northern California and worked in Silicon Valley. Years ago, on a trip to Spain, I fell in love with a Brazilian doctor and we had a long-distance relationship. We now live in the southern interior of Brazil with our eleven-year-old son. I teach English and translate medical research when I’m not writing fiction. The weekly prompts have been a great way to come up with ideas. I would love to trade feedback on our stories.