David Inkling

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024

Stories (4)

4 Stories

76 karma pts

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“Here They Come” by David Inkling

Submitted to Contest #275

Here They ComeOnce upon a time I was like everyone else. Innocent. Enraptured briefly by the sun rise as if something good would happen in the day’s new light. I’d look at a flower opening its petals to the sky and wait for the moment of beauty to arrive, that joyous sense of light and shape and purpose coming together, a very solid understanding of all that is meant by the simplest of words that slip off the tongue: ‘life.’ But then the bitter Crow cries, flies over you and laughs and it is hard to ignore reality when you know that the flow...

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“There They Go” by David Inkling

Submitted to Contest #274

Once a big black crow thought he was the king. His eye glistened with its own universe, dark as the night, as if the Dew Maker had not created the Sun at all but had set one tiny glistening star in the firmament of the Crow’s eye. The light in the eye was tiny, but it shone brightly – the tiniest light of hope ever. It was a shame the Crow could not see it.He flew high over the trees calling out to the wary world below. Caw-caw-caw. The words meant nothing to him but a jubilant declaration, as if he rejoiced in being Crow, as if he sang Me-M...

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“The Curtains Weren’t Right” by David Inkling

Submitted to Contest #273

Now, I will admit, it was the disarray in the curtains that had upset me most. I am writing this for you so you understand, since you have asked so many questions, some difficult questions persist, festering like truth, like a piece of meat caught between your teeth. I will speak about it no more. I cannot speak about it, as you know. I decided to see the walls as red. I imagine them in my mind. I cannot not see in this mask anyway. It is easier in the end to see what I want to see. And there is something calming and satisfying about a roo...

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“The Dead Don’t Talk” by David Inkling

Submitted to Contest #273

He sits still staring at the picture. It is flat on the floor in front of him. It is a picture of three young men dressed in dark and sombre suits, plain dark ties, with their hair neatly slicked back. Underneath someone has written: Robert, Henry and Joe. They wanted to look their best. Of course they did. He barely moves. He stares at the picture. Sometimes he holds it, but mostly it sits square and flat on the floor in front of him. Nothing moves. ‘I don’t understand why he is naked though, do you?’ ‘It’s a thing. Don’t read too much int...

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Author bio

I’m an English teacher from Battle in East Sussex, UK. I have written three collections of stories, and two unpublished novels. I have also written poetry for the last thirty years. I am currently writing a series of Young Adult Fantasy novels based on the idea that a person’s soul is a physical magical stone that you must find and treasure or lose and suffer the consequences in a dystopian world of religious tyranny. My favourite authors are Patrick Gale, Graham Swift, Ian McEwan, Anthony Doerr, Sebastian Barry, and Margaret Atwood.