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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
Submitted to Contest #314
It was the hottest day of the year yesterday, but folks, we were wrong, today temperatures are expected to surpass that….Thiago turning to the television picks up the remote and raises the volume to hear the rest of the weather report for the day’s projections. “Dot! – Dottie!!” He exclaims. “You hearing this?” “What?!” Dottie squawks back from the kitchen, her hands holding a glass bowl, her shirt bathing in all the backsplash from doing the dishes. Their dog, Bagel, being exactly that, a blonde ball that resembles a plain bagel, resting at...
Submitted to Contest #313
“I can see it now….” Mick said, pushing his reading glasses up from the brink of his nose. His voice removed, an echo, like hearing voices from the surface when you’re submerged underwater.“What?” I said, returning from a stareoff with the ketchup speck living on the corner of my ceiling.“…your week ahead will be filled with introspection. Are you being honest with yourself?”“What do you mean?” My throat barely coughing up the sentence.“You tell me?” Mick said, raising his right eyebrow before breaking into a slight smirk. “It’s hocus. I mea...
Submitted to Contest #286
Stanford checked the time on his watch that cloaked the pisiform on his left hand. It was a quarter after ten, Stanford was finishing up his second cup of coffee watching emails swarm in. The office he worked in wasn’t quite dull, there was a break room filled with snacks and the walls weren’t bare. His desk was parallel to a man named Bernard Berenstein who arrived ten minutes late everyday and always brought in his own lunch. Across from him was Janice Jacobson, she worked in finance. Stanford can barely recall saying more than five words ...
Submitted to Contest #167
I once met this real oddball, can’t remember her name for the life of me, but man was she odd, really. She said her dreams come true, but these weren’t any ordinary dreams, like running into an old friend and then bam, the next day you’re walking down the street and there they are buying a cup of coffee at one of those breakfast food trucks. No nothing like that. She said the clouds spoke to her, not in any sort of language, but that they told her the future in the way they moved. She was such a weird one that one. I haven’t heard from...
Submitted to Contest #159
The afternoon swung steadily from noon to night like the way a hammock sways in a warm breeze. I was finishing a transaction with an older gentleman who stood not much taller than my register. I rang up his last item, a gallon of milk, and told him the total. As I was bagging his groceries he demanded the price of the tomatoes. Stating they were much less than what the screen displayed. I reiterated the price and he proceeded to inquire about the cost of each of his items. He was certain the whole wheat bread was on sale and flipped through ...
Submitted to Contest #141
“A-ha!” Pa said, pushing up his reading glasses that were hanging onto the bridge of his nose. He pulled the newspaper closer to his face, brushed through the intro and soon began reading out loud. “....to say this restaurant can use some work would be putting it lightly–speaking of lights does this place have any? I understand a dimly lit ambiance but whatever happened to a well-lighted place?” Pa was breezing through the review.“Blah blah blah” he said, skimming through the page. “...the cheese was decadent….the décor? dated….” My fat...
Submitted to Contest #127
Nanci never liked working 9-5, her father, a legendary con-artist in her eyes, picked apart the system so he wouldn’t see a hard’s day work in this lifetime. When Nanci was eighteen, her father passed away and had nothing to show for it. Not a dime to his name, or a property to prop her stuff in. Nanci was working at a convenience store at the time and her coworker, Lin, let her crash at their place until Nanci found a place of her own. One afternoon, when Nanci was lounging on Lin’s couch, a package arrived for her. Nanci realized i...
Submitted to Contest #77
“It’s been months and I’m still cleaning the last of your confetti—confession, I can’t recall every detail of us but I do remember how happy you were to celebrate.” I put my pen down and turned to the bedroom window towards the singing of the piping plover sitting on my sill. It was another humid day in August and I was melting off the side of my sheets sifting through memories of you. I thought of how you never got to meet the poet in me. And who's to say I'm not a writer despite the fact I've never been published? And who’s to say ...
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