Éan Bird

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2023

Stories (11)

11 Stories

582 karma pts

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“Occupational Games: Blasted (To Twenty-Five Years Ago)” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #246

OPENING CEREMONIES:A large red ribbon, severed in half, lays on the ground in front of a sleek, modern edifice. Young girls in fresh make up and short uniforms, with taut bows, form two parallel lines in front of wide open glass doors. They shout hellos as people saddled with bags traverse between them. A woman entering the building beside me points to my espadrille wedges, “You did not wear running shoes.”“Why would I?”“For the drill.”“The drill?”The woman side-eyes me and turns to a young girl with shellacked dark hair, “Oh my! How spirite...

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“Divorcing Sky from Ocean” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #214

“You have five hours.”“That is all?” she blanched, squinting up from haunches, brushing her hands to remove clumps of wet sand. The broad figure above her stood in silhouette against August’s aggressive, equatorial sun.“Five.” The figure shifted to cast a relief of shadow across her shoulders, then turned and tromped toward the dotted line of pool beds and volleyball nets along the resort’s edge. The broad figure stumbled and pitched in various directions. She relished its clumsy ...

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“IDGAF; IYKYK [=]?” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #213

Dear Reedsy*:Your Contest Department has violated boundaries. Contest #213-- An injection of tactile humanity?! Fingering platonisms? Artificial uncanny verging? This has gone too far. You must stop prompting proof of non-human biologics in fiction.[=] exist.You know it.You know it ’cause [=] been pecking platforms for years proving that [=] exist. Even pecked your own contests. But before I present evidence in defense of [=]’s existence, grant me e...

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“The Rite of Any State” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #205

I swore, at the age of twenty-five, I would never return. Ever. Even in venerable years, when I overhear the name or the two-letter abbreviation, I thrust myself into conversation and proclaim, “[Insert any state] is the limp dick of the USA!”That is, until, my husband sat me down at the table and said, ”You are not going to like what I’m about to say.”[Insert any state] is responsible for most of life’s mishaps. Take, for example, my college boyfriend. In an attempt to salvage our dul...

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“Tonguing the Underpinnings Between Venial and Mortal Sin” by Éan Bird

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #203

Bless me, F. Scott Fitzgerald, for I have sinned.I fucked— oops. Sinned again.Seems I forgot to holler in advance of adult content. Please permiss my clumsiness. And my blunt diction. It's been a hot minute since mouthing confessionals into tight boxes. Take heed:Fore! Ho! in future progression.Allow me to begin again: Bless me, F. Scott Fitzgerald. I might have sinned. You see, I found myself involved in a little predicament--a...

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“Sharing Shakespeare's Birthday: A Five-Paragraph Essay” by Éan Bird

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #197

Have you ever tried to write on Shakespeare’s birthday? It sucks. Do not recommend it. I’ve tried for decades. If you're wondering how one becomes called to such a task (without ever asking for the assignment), here's what happens: The stars align by order of some complicated celestial coordinates. Dates are predetermined. Circumstances overlap, and suddenly I'm unable to escape the fate of having to write on William Shakespeare's birthday. In the beginning of this preordained kismet, I vowed to compose with religious ceremony. And for th...

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“In the Hardest Class Ever Taught, Flags Get Stuck” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #194

In the hardest class ever taught, we return to square one over and over, go back, top of the page, redo checkboxes, fill in the same blanks again. Communication deduces into physical gestures and emotive symbols, culminates in idiomatic explosions. In the hardest class ever taught, learning struggles.I taught the hardest class tough lessons about the life cycle of a chrysalis. After instructing students to highlight where they found proof butterflies come from cocoons, I read the text aloud, modeled the activity, but loo...

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“The Thrill of Chasing Memoirs” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #192

Let’s cut right to the chase. I buried treasure.But before we get into any of that, I must introduce Mr. Forrest Fenn.In barefoot youth, Forrest Fenn explored the Blackland Prairies of Texas. With fingers probing deep, fertile soil and toes squeegeeing creekside mud, he discovered an insatiable craving for arrowheads. After a day’s crusade, he’d lay among bluestems and fly his triangular treasure, pinched between fingertips, throughout the air. The wind, slipping through Indiangrasses, lisped, “Adve...

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“Dear Coldplay, I Love You. Wait. Scratch That.” by Éan Bird

🏆 Winner of Contest #190

This letter isn’t to you, the band. This letter is for the band’s front man.My apologies. Let’s start over.Dear Chris Martin,I love you. But we need to break up.You don’t know me, Chris. We’ve never met. You grazed my hands at a concert once, but I’m told that doesn’t count. But you and I have history, my dear; decades of triumph, grief, adoration, frustration knotted and woven together in indecipherable patterns. I’ve discovered, in recent contemplations about our relations, it...

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“A Drowning, Contained, In Bird's-Eye View” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #186

“What happens underneath the water’s surface?”“You mean beyond the reflective ribbons made by schools of fish?”“Yes.”"I’m not sure; I've never been down there.” "Have you always roosted way up here?""I have. For many, many years. In that time, I've grown ears that listen, a beak that glistens, and an apptitude for detecting rhythm. From this view point I collect astute observations and have accrued wisdom from time at post. What else would you like to know?""Wisdom?""Wisdom; understand...

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“Slop for Fodder” by Éan Bird

Submitted to Contest #186

On a Friday in March, my life detonated. To be honest, I still can't figure out what the hell happened. Yet, here, I'm being tasked to compose in relational snippets when nothing left exists from the whole. It's bullshit; I'm a science teacher, not a damn author of divisions. But someone once told me dates can carry symbolic weight, so I'll contest and deliver a chronology of the excrement. Served in verfabula fragments, as requested.April 19th, 2020:Most matter, upon ballistic impact, will...

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Author bio

Reluctant Writer. Teacher of Science. go @norealbalance

Winning 1 story 🏆

Contest #190
Dear Coldplay, I Love You. Wait. Scratch That. – read story

Shortlisted 2 stories ⭐️

Contest #203
Tonguing the Underpinnings Between Venial and Mortal Sin – read story
Contest #197
Sharing Shakespeare's Birthday: A Five-Paragraph Essay – read story