Craig Westmore

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021

Stories (16)

16 Stories

600 karma pts

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“Singularity” by Craig Westmore

The doctors and technicians at the cryogenic labs tell you not to panic if you wake up and don’t know where you are. I am sitting alone on a bench in an urban park with high rise buildings in the background. The mission must be over, but someone should be with me during recovery.Not a single car passes by the road just beyond the park gates. No rumble of traffic. No one jogging or picnicking in the park. No ducks in the pond or birds in the trees. Only an empty whistling wind.Don’t panic, I remind myself.I’m still wea...

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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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“Red Shirt” by Craig Westmore

Content Warning: SwearingOkay, so here’s the thing. Tonight, I’m going to stand up to that Billy Dirkins kid because he’s been bullying me all week. I’ve had enough and it is time to fight back. Dad’s been bugging me to take Tae Kwon Do lessons and now I wish I had. I’m going to wear my red sweatshirt in case it doesn’t go well. You know, because of all the blood, mom won’t have to worry about washing the stains out.Billy Dirkins is a total jerk. In seventh grade my friend Doug got in a fight with Billy at the beg...

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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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“Cutthroat Mountain” by Craig Westmore

Lightning flickered and flashed in the clouds on the western horizon like an X-ray exposing an outline of bones and a skull with hallow eyes and an empty smile. An electric arm reached out to the east with spindly fingers that curled above a cabin where four men carried a stuffed hockey bag like palm bearers at a funeral. A man with a gold tooth dropped his end of the bag and stared at the top of the mountain. “...

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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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“Snow Blind” by Craig Westmore

A travel advisory from the National Weather Service warned a blizzard was coming, stay indoors, do not venture out. Mark threw their bags in the trunk and put a few emergency items in the backseat: water, snacks, blankets, a first aid kit. Vanessa left the key on the kitchen counter for the owners and hurried their son into the Jeep Cherokee they had rented. The only advice Mark and Vanessa trusted was each othe...

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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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Author bio

Born and raised in northern California, I grew up with Silicon Valley - watching cherry tree orchards turn into Apple buildings. I worked as a software engineer, living my second best life, and dreamed of finding a cheap place to live somewhere in the U.S. so I could be a full-time writer. A few years ago, while vacationing in Spain, a Brazilian woman sat next to me on a tourist bus from Madrid to Seville. I didn't speak Portuguese and she spoke little English, and yet, on that eight-hour ride, we fell in love. We dated long-distance for two years and then I took a chance - I quit my job, moved to Brazil, and worked as an English teacher. We got married a year later and have a ten-year-old son. I've been working on a novel for several years, but last October I received feedback from a developmental editor that my story may not be marketable. After two weeks of mourning and dealing with the anxiety of all that time wasted, I decided to move on. I plan to spend 2022 writing one short story a week in Reedsy's Writing Prompt Contest. I hope to hone my skills creating characters, building tension and raising stakes. I've been a bit isolated working alone for so long. I'd like to get to know other writers and build a community. I would appreciate comments on my work and look forward to reading your stories!