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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022
Submitted to Contest #227
The doorbell chimes, jolting me out of my slumber, my head resting on the dining table. I glance at the clock on the cluttered mantlepiece: two minutes after midday, it says. “So what?” I respond. “It’s Christmas Day, and I have nowhere to go, no-one to see, nothing to do.” In response, the clock loudly, derisively and deliberately clicks forward another minute. It’s the most opinionated clock I’ve ever known, reprimanding me with its constant click click click as it shifts from one minute, marked with a fading red stripe on the greyi...
Submitted to Contest #205
All Hail the Saint of Coffee Brewers / David West Picture if you can his workspace. There is an L-shaped desk in a corner of the room. Starting from left there is a two-drawer filing cabinet, on top of which sits a stack of three wire-mesh filing trays, all overloaded. Beside them is a binocular case. The binoculars themselves are on top of a cabinet in the living room, near the front door, where he has a view of the harbour. On the left side of the desk there is a stack of four notebooks, different sizes for different purposes. Next to the...
I’ve been tossing and turning all night, but my two brothers seem to be sleeping soundly. I’m Tim, I’m eight-and-a-half years old. Jimmy is ten, Rocky is seven. It’s Christmas Morning, early. I don’t know exactly what time it is, because we don’t have a clock in the room. I’m excited because I think this year Father Christmas is going to bring me what I really, really want: a two-wheel bike. It will be second-hand, I know that, because there are five kids in our family and Dad doesn’t earn very much. He works in a warehouse, stacking shelves...
It’s a strange feeling, sitting on a park bench with my father. Coming here was his idea: he wants to be outside, in the fresh air, in the sun, with happy children playing on the swings, people walking their dogs, and others just enjoying the fresh air, sitting in small groups on the manicured lawns. He says it will be a good place to sit or stroll and catch up with each other. I like the park. I often feel confined in my little downtown apartment on the fourth floor of a building with no lift. Windows looking across a narrow ba...
Submitted to Contest #171
The Three Photographs / David West My father is telling me a story. I’m helping him sort his belongings before he moves into the rest home he’s chosen, with a little bit of help from me and my brother. I’ve found an envelope with three old photos in it, and asked him about them. He likes to tell his stories as though they’re happening as he speaks, which is a bit odd. It’s like he’s still living in the past, and can’t let go. But it does make them more real, somehow. There’s an envelope tucked under the door to my room when I get back t...
Submitted to Contest #170
“Hey, you guys, how about we go for a hike up in the Tararua Range”, Jimmy says while he and his younger brother Trevor and their friend DeeMac are cleaning up after an afternoon exploring the local hills, a mixture of plantation pine trees and some regenerating native forest. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” says DeeMac. “But it’s tough country up there, my dad says. He won’t take me up there on his hunting trips. He says I need to be older and stronger, and I should go on properly organised club trips first.” “I think I’d agree with that,...
Submitted to Contest #169
The Devil's in the DetailThe black cats in our town are becoming a bit of a nuisance. We first noticed them shortly after our little writing group – there are two of us, in a town of about 30 households – decided to enter this week’s short story competition. It’s coming up to Hallowe’en, and the theme is “I’ve got goosebumps”: The prompt says: Whether you celebrate Hallowe’en or not, late October is an interesting time, full of contradictions. On the one hand, you’ve got chunky sweaters, auburn leaves, tea, grinning pumpkins, the f...
Boys will be boys Sarah hears raised voices in the open-plan office and looks up from her desk. “Are you two squabbling again,” she calls through the open door of her office. “No,” says one voice. “Just a robust debate,” says another. “About work I hope,” she says. “Yes. It’s about work,” says Darren. “No, it’s not,” says Mitchell. “Darren’s still blaming me for the edits that were made to his article in the Trust’s magazine last year. It doesn’t seem to matter how often I tell him I didn’t edit that article. I passed it on to so...
Submitted to Contest #152
“I can see it now,” says the police psychologist. “His entire confession is written in the third person. It’s like he’s talking about someone else.” “Yes,” says the detective inspector. “That’s why we called you. He seems to be completely unconcerned about his own actions. But he knows the game, and it might be an attempt to claim diminished responsibility. We need you to examine him.” Howard’s confession starts when he and Chloe are neighbours in a new housing development favoured by middle-level, ambitious executives. They are in the same ...
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