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Deidra Whitt Lovegren

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020

Stories (58)
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58 Stories

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The King of Carrion

Submitted to Contest #73

Although he loved her from afar, she sized him up fairly quickly, determined him to be reliable, then volunteered him to watch her cockatoo for the holiday break. “I’ll be back next week. Its food is in the plastic bag. If you could, give it some fruit once or twice a day,” she said breezily over her shoulder, as if parenting parrots came naturally. “What type of fruit—” he tried to ask her. As the door slammed on her way out, the parrot gave an ear-splitting chirp. He looked at the bird, waiting for it to stop. But the bird chirpe...

71 likes 40 comments 40
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The First Thing We Do

Submitted to Contest #72

T.S. Eliot was right, Harrison thought. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whimper. Although his English bachelors degree had been useful in law school, now Harrison James Pellingham, III needed it for a job. Yes, he knew that 100,000 new lawyers graduated every year from varying degrees of prestigious institutions, all vying for the same jobs. Yes, he knew that only 63% of law school graduates actually found work within the legal field, while others took far less distinguished work. Yes, he knew that taking out...

70 likes 36 comments 36
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Bulldozer & Pushover

Submitted to Contest #70

I just don’t understand what went wrong.This is his second apartment, not including his freshman college dorm. Remember when I told you how the college demanded he vacate the dorm’s premises in 24 hours? It was only his second month of college! You would think they would understand 19-year-old boys better. It’s ridiculous. Oh, the usual things. The alcohol wasn’t even his. And it was his roommate’s stash. How would my son even know where to buy drug paraphernalia?I know, right? He doesn’t even vape! Everyone vapes, but my son ...

77 likes 46 comments 46
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Uneven Hearts

Submitted to Contest #69

“You don’t hate me,” my older brother smiled slyly. “You admire me.”With that, he slapped down the queen of spades on top of the pile of cards, adding another 13 points to my score. It was the third hand in a row he’d gleefully beaten me.Roy was only half right. I admired him; it was true. But I hated him with a fury that only a marginalized younger brother can muster. “It’s your turn to shuffle,” my father said, handing me the deck, adding points with his sharp pencil to my already disappointing tally on his scoring sheet. He spoke in ...

88 likes 40 comments 40
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Innocence Lost

Submitted to Contest #68

5:00 a.m. — Lauds or Dawn Prayer“St. Benedict had too many rules for the clergy,” he said, rolling over in her big wide bed. “Awakening at this ungodly hour was probably the most demonic,” he sighed and burrowed back into the crisp, white sheets, cool in the morning air. The sheets had been sun-dried the day before and still smelled of early spring and youth and possibilities. He suddenly arose and threw open the blinds to let the insistent rays of dawn wash over him. “Please, it is cold—” she protested, raised an arm to cover her ...

92 likes 43 comments 43
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Your Poor Rick

Winner of Contest #67 🏆

Trigger warning: depression and suicidal ideation   “We saw your poor Rick,” they say in the grocery store aisle. I smile, unconvincingly, and compare jars of spaghetti sauce that I don’t even want.  “We heard about your poor Rick,” they say, half turned on the pew in front of me at church. I sit alone and nod at their thoughtful concern, which is, in truth, neither thoughtful nor concern. “How is your poor Rick,” they say to me on the sidewalk, where I’m gardening and minding my own business. It isn’t a question.  It's schade...

461 likes 406 comments 406
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The End, Less Possibilities

Submitted to Contest #66

Trigger warning: abuse   “Where do you think you're gonna go?” her husband sputters, blindsided by his wife’s packed bags at the bottom of the stairs. “It doesn’t matter,” she replies, dead-eyed and somber. She puts on her coat, the black one, the one for special occasions.  “The kids—” “The kids are thirty,” she says, turning away from him to gather her things. “They have their lives. Now you have yours.” Flummoxed, her husband racks his bourbon-soaked brain for anything—anything to stop this thing he cannot control. This is so un...

94 likes 47 comments 47
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Marshmallow Wrapped In Barbed Wire

Shortlisted for Contest #65 ⭐️

Twenty five years in, she found herself a ghost. She stood unseen in the living room, stupidly holding a large bowl of homemade caramel corn. The noise from the widescreen television washed over her, the whistles and calls, the screaming of the fans, the roar of the crowd. The men in the room, overgrown and overfed, booed and hooted, depending on their agreement with the referees. Empty bottles of beer and depleted bags of chips lay pillaged. She sat the bowl down. Quick meaty hands dug to the bottom, shoved gooey warm caramel corn into...

101 likes 54 comments 54
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U.S. Army Issue Brown T-Shirt

Submitted to Contest #64

“You can’t keep me here.”“Please, Mr. Van de Kamp. Take your seat,” ordered the imperturbable headmaster, black eyes narrowing over his hawkish nose. The boy stood in his office. Out of uniform. Insolent. “You can’t keep me here—” the boy repeated.“I assure you, we can,” the headmaster flatly stated. “Your father—”“My father can eat shit and die.”“Mr. Van de Kamp, such language will not be tolerated here. You are well aware of our Code of Conduct.”“You are well aware of my Code of Condick,” said the boy, lewdly grabbing his crotch.“Mr. ...

72 likes 61 comments 61
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Forth Majeure

Submitted to Contest #57

And here is the resting place of your great-grandfather, Salvador Earnest Forth. The renowned Sally Forth. Found dead in his cottage with an iPhone in his hand at the age of 96. Yes, I am aware you didn’t get to meet him while he was alive. He was an interesting man. Well, maybe less interesting and more mercurial. Well, maybe less mercurial and more of an arsehole.I met him only twice. Your grandparents regaled us with legendary Sally-stories, probably more useful as cautionary tales. Sally Forth! He would call out ...

79 likes 36 comments 36
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Pass the Potatoes on the Left-hand Side

Submitted to Contest #55

“There he is! Come in here, big guy!” My father throws me into a headlock hug, causing me to drop a duffle bag full of filthy laundry. It's too cold out to snow and we quickly retreat inside.“Hey Mom!” I call out. “Mom?” The smells emanating from the kitchen trigger every one of my salivary glands. “Mark—?” My mother walks out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a festive Thanksgiving dish towel. She gives me a hug that may have cracked a few ribs. “Oh Mark—you’ve lost weight. In just four months? What are they feeding you at that colle...

81 likes 47 comments 47
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Irrumator Praetor Matrem Suam

Shortlisted for Contest #52 ⭐️

In nómine Patris, et Fílii, et Spíritus Sancti. Amen.Things sound so much better in Latin, don’t they, Father Connolly? I guess that’s why my parents splurged on the whole two-hour deluxe wedding package. The TLM, baby! Total. Latin. Mass. I’m sure you would have been fabulous with the Gregorian chanting. Father, do you want a drink? I’m sure you have an extra glass or two in the rectory somewhere. I don’t need a glass. I’ll just drink out of the bottle. I can hide out here for a bit, right? Wait for things to calm down? ...

112 likes 66 comments 66
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A Breakup in Five Acts

Shortlisted for Contest #47 ⭐️

Act I is the easiest part to write as you don’t even like him at first, unusual considering how hard and how fast you fall. On your first date, he asks what type of restaurant you prefer. Idiot, you think. We aren’t going to get into any place decent this late on a Saturday night without reservations. He asks you again, enumerating your options: Thai, French, Greek, Italian. You throw him a curve ball: Mediterranean. He smiles his salesman’s grin at you and drives directly to the Iron Gate Inn in Adams Morgan. You are shocked when, indeed, h...

77 likes 26 comments 26
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