David Ader

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020

Stories (46)

46 Stories

1093 karma pts

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“Here Kitty Kitty” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #169

He wished he’d thought more about that black cat when he first saw it earlier that morning. Black cats are bad omens, right? Maybe the omen was the cat itself, a ‘here kitty kitty’ gone very wrong. Now, though, as that morning led into the afternoon, he saw that cat again in front of him, staring and swishing its tail not five yards ahead. He knelt and held out his fingers, feigning the act of teasing a treat like he would do for a dog; he was not a cat person. ...

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“The Trade of a Lifetime” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #166

A memo went around the trading floor. Finally, after threatening, after complaining, after squeezing in few added weeks to his already long vacation allowance, after working remotely two days a week, and after years of discussing his rich bucket list, Allan Buckley put in his retirement notice. Three months from now, he would be gone. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need advice,” he’d told the colleagues that crowded him on the cramped trading desk. “But it would be a sign of weakness!” It was a long time in coming. At 64...

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“We Have to Move” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #164

Phillip turned the car into the gravel driveway comforted by the grassy hump down its middle, the part that car tires hadn’t trampled down. The hump had grown since he was a child. He’d always thought it looked like something you’d find at an English country home. Maybe in the Cotswolds, though he hadn’t ever been there. The old man sat on the porch staring out at him, a curious look that might have been mistake...

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“Man’s Best Friend” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #160

Willis stumbled again. He hadn’t seen the slick root of the spruce. Anyway, he had given up trying to avoid them. He grabbed at a wet pine branch, smearing his already raw hand with its glue-like sap but managed to keep standing this time. Maybe the sap would help heal his cuts. He’d read about that somewhere. A wilderness survival book maybe. He swore out loud and then shouted, although there was no one to hear him. Catching his breath, he wiped his hands on his wool-sheathe...

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“Encounter in the Park” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #159

The senior partner raised his glass for one final toast to the departing 3L, a third-year law student who’d come in for the Christmas Party. He’d just been offered a position to start at the end of the following summer with a salary of $150,000 and a signing bonus of $40,000. It would pay for the kid’s final year at Harvard and give him more than enough funds to travel in style after graduation for a trip he had talked about incessantly, and it would leave him with enough for a “kick-ass” apartment with all the accouterments, one fitting for...

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“The Old Clock Stopped” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #154

The old clock stopped. Facing it was its chronological counterpart; a mirror suffering age spots that distorted the clock’s image stuck at 6:32. It was like the final date on a gravestone. Its brass pendulum dangled dormant below the face. It was new on their wedding day. The groom’s father called it a “Regulator,” an accurate wall clock that would ring out the hours 24 times a day. &nbsp...

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“A Virtual Life” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #151

We all have regrets. Coulda, woulda, shoulda…fill in the blank. It drives some people into insanity. Or into therapy. Or worse. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Shoulda is the worst of the trio. I should have done this, but I did that, and look where it got me. Where is not the preferred place or you wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. The ideal was a life well-lived, no regrets, and a long look in the mirror each morning, smug smile appearing, and a silent nod to the ...

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“Wilce's Dream” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #143

At the persistence of his father, Cliff Skinner, his mother attempted a breathing technique to slow her labor enough to push her soon-to-be-born baby out at midnight. Clifford had heard that the first child of the new year would get all sorts of prizes. Wilce was born on December 31st at 11:56 PM. Cliff also fantasized that the local Chevrolet dealer, the largest in this part of Vermont, would give the family a new pickup, something he wanted more than a newborn when he couldn...

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“A Virtual Life” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #140

We all have regrets. Coulda, woulda, shoulda…fill in the blank. It drives some people into insanity. Or into therapy. Or worse. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Shoulda is the worst of the trio. I should have done this, but I did that and look where it got me. Where is not the preferred place or you wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. The ideal was a life well-lived, no regrets, and a long look in the m...

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“The Trout Went One Way” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #138

The trout went one way. Foster went another. He leapt out of the water, arching over its surface, then dove into the depths of the cold pool. For a trout, such a move is a graceful display of instinctive acrobatics whether to catch a fly that’s risen off the surface or to argue with the bite of a hook in its mouth. For Foster, the move was his attempt to get out of the water he’d fallen into when the fish, a lar...

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“Staying Home” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #137

“We’re done here, Mr. Goodrich!” It was the guy in charge of the movers, Joey V, standing in the driveway. Goodrich knew this was coming: a yell or a voice from downstairs, saying it was all over. He took slow steps over to the bedroom window and struggled to lift it. The weather had been damp and these old wooden windows stuck. He banged the upper rail with the palm of his hand and it stubbornly moved. He banged some more, allowing for an opening...

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“Oskar” by David Ader

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #135

OskarThe smiles of the small crowd on the street disappeared faster than the people who hurried away from the boys in the brown outfits. Yelling profanities despite the presence of children who’d been enjoying the man’s show, they kicked his table over before they set to kicking the man to the ground and then kicking him more. The tools of his trade, the rings, the cups, the case, weren’t so badly hurt as the man seeming to claw his way through the sidewalk to safety. He crawled to the gutter – thank goodness the rained had flushed the rubbi...

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“We Have to Move” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #120

Phillip turned the car into the gravel driveway comforted by the grassy hump down its middle, the part that car tires hadn’t trampled down. The hump had grown since he was a child. He’d always thought it looked like something you’d find at an English country home. Maybe in the Cotswolds, though he hadn’t ever been there. The old man sat on the porch staring out at him, a curious look that might have been mistake...

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“The Hobby Shop” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #120

“I won’t be too long,” said his wife. “I’ll meet you back in…say…45 minutes. Tops. Don’t be late again. Not in this weather.” “Sure, sure,” he replied, edging back towards the car with three bundles of groceries in his arms. “What did I say?” she asked. He leaned over to put the bags on the hood, hugging them to keep them from toppling over. Had she just said something? He was sure he’d heard her voice behind him. With arms still manhandling the groceries, he twisted around, feeling the twinge of a pulled muscle, to look over h...

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“Ed's Ego” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #109

Ed Jesperson combed back his steel grey hair, turning this way and that in the mirror, patting down rogue strays that refused to behave, and smiled. In the closet, he looked over his vast collection of ties, rubbing their silk fabric to recall the distant days. He could tell by their width where he had worked and when he had last worn them, like counting the rings on a tree. There were the yellow ones—“power ties” in their day—he’d wear with garish suspenders of Rubenesque wom...

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Author bio

I love early American historical fiction and rediscovering writers like Kenneth Roberts. I've just reread "The Old American" by Ernest Hebert, an under-appreciated novel about a New England man captured in an Indian raid. Sensitive to all cultures involved. Also just finished "Act of Oblivion" by Robert Harris about two men in early New England on the run for their participation in the execution of Charles I. Fascinating and tremendous insight to a unique period in history. Me? Retired from a long career in the financial marketzzzzzz...I was, basically, an interest-rate strategist of some note. Now, following interests ranging from archaeology, fishing, mushrooms, staying healthy, and trying to write. PLEASE give me feedback. I'm thick-skinned and trying to improve!

Shortlisted 2 stories ⭐️

Contest #198

A Brush With History – read story

Contest #135

Oskar – read story