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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019
Submitted to Contest #58
Olga Hammond’s fat, floured hands kneaded the scones while her pursed bee-stung lips whistled a cheerful tune. Her bean pole husband, Stanley wafted into the kitchen. He kissed her cheek and slapped her on her ample bottom. Lacey and Jack giggled and exchanged grossed-out looks while they played backgammon at the rickety kitchen table. A sound beyond the window in the street made them all turn to look. It was a long screeching and then a mighty bang that rattled the timber house to its foundations. With a quick whirring down, the fridge sto...
Submitted to Contest #44
You know when you walk through an airport and no one is there to greet you but your eyes swivel about constantly looking because you just might run into someone you know…I grab my navy and grey backpack off the conveyor belt and heft it over my shoulder. Making a beeline for the exit and towards the taxi stand, at first, I don’t hear my name being called.“Maximus Clearwater, Maximus Clearwater, please make yourself known to the nearest security officer.”The voice becomes more insistent. I walk towards the parting automatic glass doors but tw...
“Love can scorch and soothe, be denied and be delighted in. It can sour; it can blossom. But for everyone, those first electric moments are static and bold. The first touch. A minute caress of a hand in the dark. A wandering gaze that is held a moment too long. Chemistry, my friend, is not always measurable in a beaker.” Professor Green took the proffered glass vial from Hargreaves and suspended it above a low flame. Steam slowly rose in languid, rolling wisps, darking with a vile stench as the thickening liquid bubbled. Within the tube, the...
Submitted to Contest #21
Bryan Adams’ Summer of ‘Sixty-Nine pulsed quietly in the background of the pub. The dance floor was empty. The bar stools, vacant. The only resident at The Lion’s Keep was Richard, the new bartender. In South Edmonton, there wasn’t much action. The elderly gentlemen and hobby farmers from the outskirts of town had long-left with much eye-rolling about the demands of their wives and promises to meet up for another pint tomorrow. Now, it was just Richard, polishing wine glasses that he suspected had not touched the lipsticked mouth of a woman ...
Submitted to Contest #19
Tins of tuna and tomatoes were stacked four high in the wobbling shopping cart. Bags of apples, packets of chips and at least four cartons of milk were laying underneath twelve boxes of cookies and a giant watermelon. Annie Atkinson's trembling hands pushed the cart, swerving left to right across the aisles, apologising profusely to the woman whose backside she just ran into. Silvia Jackson was stacking packets of spaghetti in aisle two. She smiled at Annie and dug about in her apron pocket for her phone to call Michael Atkinson. Michael sig...
Submitted to Contest #18
Bing Matherson grunted and rolled over on the flattened cardboard box he lay on, beneath the continuous roar of the cars and trucks on the overpass above. He shivered violently in the frigid air and pulled his threadbare blanket tighter about him.“Winter coming early this year, Bing.”“Yeah, Bob. I reckon you might be right.”“Swig?” Bob proffered the whiskey bottle but Bing shook his head.“Not about to start that now.” Bing rubbed his face, then his arms, massaging his bony limbs to create some kind of heat.“It will warm you up from the insid...
Submitted to Contest #17
George Gruman sat down heavily on the rickety chair, his arthritic knee making him topple forward in pain and nearly land in the bowl of unflavoured tuna he had dumped on the table. “Thanksgiving,” he harrumphed. “So much to be thankful for.” His rheumy eyes misted with some emotional irritant. He let the scrawny, almost hairless old cat claw at his jeans. Gruman picked at the tuna with his fingers and offered some to her. She purred like a well oil diesel engine; Crooked tail twitching with pleasure. Her own arthritis made catching mice har...
Submitted to Contest #15
Victorusmonous State School had a reputation. It did not spark joy in the souls of the relief teachers who were appointed there for the day. Those who were asked to take a short contract had to fill in between the burned out and traumatised regular educators on stress leave. I had been sipping a cup of watered down, overly milky coffee when the number for the temp agency flashed on my phone. My first day ever relief teaching, I felt like I was playing the Russian roulette of schools. I answered with all fingers and toes crossed for St Marks ...
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