Dhruv Srivastava

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2020

Stories (53)

53 Stories

1252 karma pts

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“Bar Talk” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #108

Why were bar tops always made of some deep, dark wood with so much polish on it that one could see their sad face in crystal clear high definition as they ordered another drink? And why was the wood always so slippery? Just for barkeeps to fling drinks around like they’re in some sort of low-brow curling match? And the music… songs just played again and again. In the three hours that Ted had been at McCarson’s Corner, he had heard the same crappy pop song play at least seven times. As the high snares started up to signal the beginning of the...

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“Grandpa's Clarity” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #107

Sunlight streamed through the orange and red forest canopy, dappling the ground with warm light while a brisk wind rustled through the forest. Waves and drifts of leaves moved around like an ocean - the graveyard of autumn’s past. Henry Wallman walked through these woods in a good fitting pair of dark blue jeans, a faded orange shirt, and a black bomber jacket. On his wrist he wore a watch worth more than the phone in his pocket, and around his neck he wore a necklace with a ring on it. Fall was always a bittersweet time for him - on one han...

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“The Arrival” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #104

Trigger warning: domestic violence There was a delicate clink as Marty Strathmore placed his wine glass back on the sleek wooden table, pursing his lips and turning the page of his novel. A soft white light shone behind him, casting strict, long shadows on the modern architecture of his living room. A vinyl player was broadcasting some soft jazz around the room which touched lightly on his ears, never too bold yet still confident enough for a little crescendo or piano riff to catch his intrigue. Yes, he was indeed aware of his own cliche. He...

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“The Castle in the Woods” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #103

Wet soil crunched beneath his feet as he made his way through the woody underbrush of the forest. Small sticks and moss covered rocks slipped and cracked under his heavy brown boots, and his walking stick left little imprints in the soft ground before he was about to step, warning the unseen critters in front of him where his heavy feet would land next. The steely gray day was damp, and had the warmth of a late spring morning in the north, just clinging to winter’s last breath. It had rained the night before, and that meant the conifers abov...

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“A Cold Party” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #100

“Ah, Donna… welcome… please, come in.” The older woman’s voice was warm, but her face was sharp and curt, and her blue eyes held more chill than the piles of snow outside her massive home. She stepped away from her mahogany double doors and allowed Donna, a large woman with a hostile face, to walk in. “How was your drive?”  “Fine,” said Donna shortly, taking off her shoes and speeding past the old woman. She walked down a spacious hallway filled with pictures, recognizing her own smiling face in a few of them. Her feet carried her mech...

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“Hiraeth Fodern” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #98

The only waitress at Marvin & Friend’s diner was accustomed to spending the late hours of her shift smoking a cigarette and listening to Hall & Oates on the old, crackly speakers. She didn’t know who Marvin was, or why he’d opened the diner, nor did she care. There was no cook behind the small window into the kitchen - on the rare occasion that a trucker or drug addict came into the diner late at night, the food was packaged and ready to be heated up. She just went back into the kitchen, threw it in the microwave, and played with her...

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“What Matters” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #97

A gentle rain splattered against the cool glass window of his room. The sky was an inky black, with the clouds so thick the full moon behind them was hidden in their velvety folds. Somewhere in his heart, he knew it was midnight, even before the little beeping on his watch chimed at the hour. Outside, a street light stood amongst its kin as sentinels against the obtrusive darkness, though even it was blurred when the rain decided to spit hard at the Earth. Its light highlighted Danny’s face in stark, pale relief, with the crossed metal bars ...

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“The Host's Confession” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #96

A lone cabin in the woods, that’s what he’d been reduced to. The angled and desiccated logs barely holding his home together seemed more like a prison than anything else, and leaked the heat of his pitiful fire out into the snowy forest around him. The only food in the house was an old loaf of bread and some cheese he’d managed to steal from town a few weeks ago. Otherwise the horizontal surfaces of the main room in his cabin were littered with empty bottles of Everclear. He’d dilute it with water from the lake, though it was still strong en...

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“The King of the North” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #92

The sun beat down on his face as he felt the wind whipping through his long, black hair. The rhythmic beating of his horse’s hoofs on the hard ground matched with the pace of his heart as he sped through the countryside, his mind uncharacteristically on distant matters. Tears which pooled in his eyes were quickly dried by the gale, and his scarred hands gripped his steed’s reins with their full strength, turning his knuckles white. He knew the quest he had just undertaken had but one result, and he knew too that there was no other choice for...

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“Many Seasons, Many Lives” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #90

The wind sighed as the great Oak stood sentinel in the park, watching over the children as they ran around, as he had done for over a century. Of course, he did not know his age, nor did he know where his acorns went, but he knew his power, and he knew the beings which played around him were his own progeny, be they the squirrels which hopped around his branches, or the birds which nested in his crevices and cracks. Or even the humans which climbed him so boldly and scratched his bark. Sometimes, they would rip out chunks of him or cleave of...

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“What Was, and What May Never Be” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #86

The two walked in the meadow behind the Lovac’s pasture as they had done on countless occasions for the last twelve years, yet now their feet dragged in the tall grass and the boy looked anxiously at the girl, who herself was avoiding his gaze. Occasionally, they would see a bee in the distance and stop automatically in their tracks - the boy was deathly afraid of bees, and the girl had been so conditioned to protect him from them that even in this bittersweet moment she put her arm in front of him the moment one buzzed from a nearby flower....

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“A Dinner to Remember” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #81

The quick rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board conflicted with the slow Pink Martini record playing on the radio, yet this conflict seemed to only enhance the melody as Justine Watts sang along softly in French. She finished chopping the onions and threw them into the pot, adding a crushed clove of garlic on top. The aroma quickly filled the spacious kitchen, and she took a quick sip of Cabernet to bring the whole scene together. If only it were snowing, she thought, and I had a fireplace crackling in the living room. Alas, ...

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“A Wayward Ship, Reborn” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #80

His face held the bitter stoutness of a man whose tears were spent, whose throat was dry from screaming into the night, and whose days were numbered. He sat, perfectly still, on the patio of his small home, watching the brilliant orange sunset over fields of yellowed grass. Its beauty would have blinded any other man, but he had seen the ferocity of a thousand suns light up the night sky. In his left hand, he held a glass of ice cold lemonade, untouched. Every evening, his servant would bring him one, though he never asked for it. His right ...

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“The Laundromat Murder” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #67

I talked to the police last night… they thought I was insane… which is about par for the course. I told them everything - every grisly detail. How he dragged her inside the laundromat, screaming. How he lifted her up and choked her against the machines… and then how he threw her to the ground as she sputtered. She tried to crawl away - he grabbed her unkempt blond hair and smashed her head with the door of a washing machine. She was crying, and everytime she sobbed he’d hit her again. I told them how he finally got bored and slammed her to t...

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“Patient is the Night” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #65

The wind blew eerily through the skeletal trees as they lugged their packs through the empty field. The moon shone hazily amongst thin clouds, casting a milky light on the rocks which lay amongst the grass. Jonathan shivered. “Gettin’ cold out here, eh?” he said, trying to maintain levity despite their grim task.“Shut up.”“Oh c’mon, this wasn’t my-”“I said shut up.” Michael spoke in urgent whispers, though the wind carried his words to the far reaches of the field, where a line of woods stood guard like petrified soldiers, frozen in sol...

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Author bio

Check out my website! setreflect.com Follow me on Instagram @dhruv01810. Any potential business inquiries may be directed to dhruvsrivastava.d.s@gmail.com