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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2023
Submitted to Contest #247
Telling a Story DAY 1Once she’d thrown two plates, shattered on the kitchen floor behind me, I knew this was not the usual anger. Janie picked up a third plate, so I surrendered, apologized, and made a promise. That was yesterday. Now I haven’t done what I promised. Mind you I didn’t say I wouldn’t drink. What I did say is I’d deal with my drinking. “Start dealing” is more precise. I said it to Janie, under great duress, that I’d get help. So, I’m going to a meeting. Since we moved in together, it’s been rules. More rules. And rules that ex...
Submitted to Contest #246
First Love Emily wore hair ribbons just so, colors that matched the days of the week, tied into sophisticated bows and knots. Her bobby socks were a sight, one perfectly, three inches above her left ankle, the top rolled down, and the right other disheveled. And she had a freckle, just off center of the tip of her nose. At recess, she was always in the middle of the boys on the playground, pushing and shoving, tackling, and getting her knees skinned. She didn’t cry even when a kid elbowed ...
Submitted to Contest #237
“Here we all are on a beautiful spring Sunday morning, you there in pews, women in fancy hats with feathers, men in suits with vests that are too tight, and children wishing to be anywhere else. I stand here in the pulpit, robed and magisterial in my purple stole. I’m supposed to have the answers and maybe you have questions. Yet, today, my mind is topsy turvy. I need help, and that’s what being part of a congregation means: collect into a flock, and a flock works as one. So, to understand my predicament this morning, you must understand Sat...
Submitted to Contest #233
“Drink coming up,” the barkeep stated. “That’s got to hurt,” nodding his head in Roger’s face’s direction. Roger wasn’t sure if he was talking about the shiner, or his hang-dog hangover draped on him like a damp bedspread. A cold draft slapped the bar, a thin layer of ice crusted on the mug. He nodded at the barkeep, a man he’d talked to once before in one of those states where he couldn’t remember what they talked about. Roger took a healthy slug. The beer burned his stomach, and he gagged. The second gulp was smoother and by the fifth, t...
Submitted to Contest #232
“But you promised,” Stephanie said, a whiny voice. “I told you about it last week. You promised. You promised.” “I did, but.” Erin caught herself. She’d been a mother long enough to know that this was an unwinnable battle. She rolled her eyes at Landon, who stood inside the front door with his hands in his pocket. Then she shrugged. She mouthed at Landon, “I don’t want to leave you with this.” Stephanie had her arms around her mother, bawling into her pants leg. “We were going to watch th...
Submitted to Contest #231
1. Make No New Year’s Resolutions: Last year I made three serious ones – the kind that change one’s life; and three easy ones – the kind that just make life a bit more fun and comfortable. Didn’t get through any of them. For example, a hard one: Go to the gym every day. Why are New Year’s Resolutions so extreme? Before last New Year’s Day, I went to the gym one day a week. Why not try to be more consistent instead of perfect? That was a hard one and unattainable. The easy one was floss at least twice a week. I don’t have to leave ...
Submitted to Contest #230
Landon stood in the corner of the den, a large, bright airy room with contemporary leather sofa, two similar chairs and end tables. The tables appeared more like space vehicles except for the coasters, lamp (also a weirdly shaped object) and a Sports Illustrated. Everything had a place and a place for everything, he thought. He’d been in rooms, and houses like this, but that didn’t mean he knew how to act. He’d learned from living in Mt. Hebron that Southerners, of which he was both one by birth and not one by temperament, were judged quickl...
Submitted to Contest #229
No one called him Carter. He was Mr. Cash, if anyone spoke to him, a rarity. When passed on Main Street, he didn’t even grunt a hello or nod. He had been a high school biology teacher, the kind who the students hated until they left his class – or even later, graduated – and realized they’d learned from him. About biology, and more importantly about life, how to carry oneself. He didn’t repeat that hokey parental stuff students were used to. He rarely answered their questions, forcing them to search for answers themselves. He announced ea...
Submitted to Contest #228
If he had a regret about his life since Sally and the kids, it would be the lousy kitchen he had at his house. It wasn’t spacious. Even by himself, he felt like he was bumping into himself. He needed room to make his mess, the same way a painter needs a studio splattered with her colors. The stove heated unevenly, the oven didn’t always heat up, and counter space was limited. Plus, he didn’t have all those weird utensils like the Ronco slicer and dicer. He stopped his pity party. It wasn’t the things: it was cooking simply for himself. If a ...
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