Dustin Softman

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (16)

16 Stories

481 karma pts

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“A Gravestone” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #60

Laying down on the dull patch of ground by your headstone, I can’t help feeling guilty. It’s not an easy thing to visit the grave of someone both so young and to who you have been so cruel.            Maybe you feel the same way I do. Feel the same justified disappointment at our pairing. Of all the people who could have survived to come and visit you, I would be low on your list – but the...

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“The Fig Tree” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #59

Beyond the tips of outstretched fingers, a beautiful ripe fig twisted in the breeze.Andrea’s foot began to numb as he wedged it deeper between the trunk and the cliff. He had nothing lose; he told himself. There was no other time this could ever be done, therefore climbing back up empty handed was not an option.           ‘Andrea! Just give up already!’           ‘Everyone knows Lolo is the only one...

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“mine + collected letters 4 proj.... GreatgrandpaRodge (.docx) ” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #57

Dear Students of Brickberk high; Brickberk Family; The Goan community; and Friends, Associates and Enthusiasts of Dr Rodge Brickberk,  I am writing to ask for your help in compiling memories, reflections and insights into the life of my great grandfather Dr Rodge Brickberk. As some of you may be aware, I have recently entered into my last year at Brickberk high, and I have been asked by th...

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“A Giant Purple Snail” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #55

“Wait,” cried the fly dodging the open beak. “Wait!” “We each have our part to play,” said the bird, landing on the sheep’s back. “This ewe eats the grass and makes wool, you eat her poo to help regrowth, and I eat you.”            “It is as simple as that,” rasped the sheep, coming to a stop. “We each have to play our part.”            “I understand very well my part,” said the fly, steadying itself...

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“Iacopo's Coin” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #50

There was a thump of a napkin holder and heads turned in the café. His coin hit the box of sugar sachets and finished spinning.            “Hey!” Clicking his fingers. “Hey, how long do I have to wait for service?” No answer. He shuffled further forward on his chair, shoulders thrown back, scowling towards the bar.            “Is that yours?” he gestured towards a nearby table. The man began to laugh...

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“Fun Facts about Fleas” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #48

Saul Mattis accepted a copy of Fun Facts about Fleas stale-faced and slipped the volume into his bag. “I’m sorry for its tone, but this really is all we have on fleas,” said the doctor avoiding Saul’s eye “it’s actually quite incredible what they, or rather you, are capable of” “I’m not a flea,” said Saul bluntly. There was a knock at the door and a nurse waggled a bundle of children’s shoes throug...

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“The Watermelon ” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #47

If you had been a little more talkative, I might have a little more to tell you. But there it is. We never spoke quite as much as we should have. Do you remember much of the watermelon stall?I’ll take that as no.The watermelon stands stood a few miles off from the beach.Something twitches a little in your eye at the word watermelon.I thought that word might stir something in you. You look a little lost, but I’ll keep going.This was a few yea...

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“A Mouse Gives to an Old Locksmith” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #41

Singor Careri’s hands were swollen and it was only 9 O’clock. His palms like a pair of string-tied hams, were already squirming to move their fingers. They bundled their breakfast knife leaving a splatter of jam on the table. The soft little clink was eaten up by the noise of the street through the open window. Queuing cars late for work. Huddles hiding from the morning sunshine under the awnings of cafes. They filled the pavement and road with the kind of confused purpose that an unemployed locksmith can only dream of....

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“A Dug Out Pond” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #41

Mrs Dalton had been the first to discover Berty. Soon in tow Miss Badeal, most of the Laghari family and an assortment of other village folk followed her down to the local pond. ‘He really is the most remarkable of his kind I’ve ever seen, I’ve no idea how he ended up there, I’ve been walking around Huntly garden’s pond near every day since they dug it out and I’ve never seen so much as a cherry shrimp or killifish in that bog, but today it is clear as tears and there is the most enormous… ’ Mr Laghari sidled up to expedition’s leader to ...

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“The Garden Party” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #40

All that was left was a chickpea. I can cut it in half if you’d like? I say. She says no, but I do it anyway and she accepts it with one of those smiles where only her mouth moves.We hover around the buffet table searching for something to say when a gloriously silver pigeon with a violet neck plume bats its wings before returning to its home in the fur tree.It’s… almost fortifying to know how bright their feathers get out here, I jibe.You know pigeons are covered with ticks, even in the country, she says. They’re lik...

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“The man who did nothing but smile” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #39

The man who did nothing but smile beamed. There was no reason not to. He stuck his tongue between his teeth, crinkled his nose and pulled his face up into something not unlike the knot at the heart of a bow. Ribbons of leathery face skin were neatly drawn up around his eyes and then folded themselves back down to rest upon hardened cheeks as he threw back his head to gaze upon a starlit sky.     The moon rained down upon the oval. Prostrate, arms and legs wide as could be, square in the middle of the field,...

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“A Sapphire Fly” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #34

Woofred proudly sat beside his royal blue turd and waited for his master to return from work. The turd, or specifically its colour, was a bad omen in their house. His master, however, was a patient man and understood its colour and position in the middle of the lounge were beyond the dog’s control.           He sat a while on the sofa observing the now routine hubris of his dog and let out a sigh and reached for the phone. ‘They must have come through again’ he said without int...

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“My Blood, British Cows and an (half) Empty Rome” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #33

I am in quarantine. My adopted city is shut down. On the pavement below linger protracted queues that stretch and intersect. Calm and willing to wait. Socially distanced; expressions trapped behind face masks. Onto balconies and out of windows at noon we come to play our part, applauding the work of doctors unseen. A few languid flags wave on confused in the wake of a flashmob; cameras and phones, in the midst of some form of history, uncertain which way to face. The words Viva Italia are sung with strength and flutter a...

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“A Rose Tipped Cigarette ” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #32

A slow and careful opening of Tom Jarvis’ office door meant it was best to assume a fixed downward stare. It was always junior employees who prolonged their entrance. Milling around in the doorway in that way that was so incredibly annoying to him. Tom would see how long he could keep ignoring them before they eventually had to speak out or risk upsetting their productivity for the day.            So as a limp knock was followed by yet another long protracted ...

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“A Painted Gull ” by Dustin Softman

Submitted to Contest #31

Antony Brook of TemperYahealth Ltd put down the phone on his company’s most reliable first-aid trainer and let out a sigh of contentment. ‘Debbs nailed it again, finished up in Pambula without a hitch. Knew she’d make all 35’. Antony’s nonchalant exhilaration was matched similarly by his remaining colleagues spread out in varying degrees of lassitude as they raised a Friday beer in the name of Debbs’ perfect streak. At 5.35 the handful of TemperYahealth employees still at work threw back the dregs of their stubbies and slowly weaved their...

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Author bio

Today I feel fresh as a haricot bean plucked straight from its tin and washed clean of its brine.