Elliot Kessler

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

79 karma pts

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“The Painter” by Elliot Kessler

Submitted to Contest #197

The Painter stepped back and looked at his landscape. It was nearly perfect! The trees stood tall and proud. The long, swaying grass was greener than anything the painter had seen before. The mountains covered the horizon and stretched to the sky, capped with snow and towering over a large, blue lake.The rolling hills were home to all kinds of critters, like squirrels and rabbits. Horses stood with flowing manes and stood in groups. Birds flew through the clear sky with wings stretched wide. Fish swam in the lake, noiselessly explo...

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“Phishing” by Elliot Kessler

Submitted to Contest #189

I had not seen Hal in a long time. Too long. It took me forever to find him on Facebook and even longer for him to respond to my messages. But, last week, he finally did. I wanted to meet within the next few days. He told me he was out of sick and vacation days and working an extra weekend shift. He must have been struggling, which gave me an idea of what he had been up to lately. He worked at a software company,...

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“The Deal” by Elliot Kessler

Submitted to Contest #188

“So, what’s the catch?” asked Teddy.“No catch,” said the guy I assumed was the dealer. I mean, he was the one handling the bags; and he was the one waving the gun around. “I give you the money, and you walk away and keep quiet. Capeesh?"The dealer pulled a wad of cash out of his bag and waved it around in front of our faces. “Huh? What do you say?”I stared at the wad with no idea what I should do next. I looked at Teddy, and Teddy looked at me. He shrugged, looked back at the wad of cash, and leaned close to me.

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“Mirror, Mirror” by Elliot Kessler

Submitted to Contest #179

I take a sip of my beer and watch as the man on the TV has a mental breakdown. Tears stream down his face, and he sobs uncontrollably. I had thought watching a character drama would make me feel less alone. Maybe the urge wouldn’t hit me so hard. Maybe I could fight back. But it’s happening again.Bringing my hand up to my head, I feel the cold metal of the neural implant. The buttons wait patiently, and my brain longs for me to press them. I squirm on the couch and take another sip of beer. No matter how much dopamine I give myself...

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