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E. Casson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2023

Stories (5)

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5 Stories

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Blood Brothers

E. Casson

Tate Simmons is looking up at me, his face just as swollen and bruised as my own. We had done this dance many times before, going after each other like two bulls fighting over the same cow, except for us the cow was a legacy. Our jackets, like brands we carried, are both trampled off to the side, crumpled together in a heap, much like we were moments ago. My breathing is ragged, and I can’t seem to shake the anger burning into my gut as I look down at him, his eyes pleading even more than his voice as he talks through bloody lips. “You don...

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The Scarred Stranger

E. Casson

Submitted to Contest #271

I once heard someone say that everyone is held prisoner by their past. That's something I know all too well. The only thing I've wondered though, is if there's there's a way to get free.I study the revolver in my hand, trying to focus my aim despite the clamor and yelling all around me. The gun goes off, and the smoke clears, revealing the target.Another miss.I re-holster my gun as my paper target is taken down and replaced with one that isn’t littered with bullet holes. A young boy — no more than fourteen — bounces eagerly onto the platform...

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In The Woods

E. Casson

The girl was sitting in the uncomfortable plastic seat in the police station. Her leg bounced up and down in a nervous staccato, her arms wrapped protectively around a messenger bag in her lap. There was an older woman who raised her eyebrow in slight annoyance sitting behind the front desk, a cigarette in her hand despite the No Smoking sign plastered on the wall behind her. “Ms. Carter? The detective wants to talk to you,” The secretary’s voice was loud and harsh, but the smile she gave the young woman exuded kindness and motherly af...

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The Wrong Place for a Drink

E. Casson

The Wrong Place for a Drink "Are you sure this is a good place to stop for the night?" The wind snatches away my voice. "Yeah I'm sure, c'mon, do you see anywhere else nearby?" Derry raises an eyebrow at me, and I puff a sigh that he can't hear. We pull our cycles off the highway and into the halfway filled parking lot. Tearing our helmets off, I try to avoid eye contact with my older brother as he leads the way into the bar, music pumping out of the sightly ajar door. Inside, regular bar sounds fill the air—pool cues ram...

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Midnight

E. Casson

Midnight. It was the only time I ever saw him. I would get off work around eleven, maybe eleven-thirty, and every time I passed through that stretch of town close to twelve ‘o clock - there he was. He was always leaning against something, usually a lamppost, sometimes a trashcan - waiting. Sometimes, if I was feeling curious, I would crane my neck to try and see what it was he was looking at, but I never saw a thing. It wasn’t until July 4, 1957, that I finally saw him face to face. Tallman’s diner - my summer job and the p...

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