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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019
The metallic doors slide open, moving to the chime's cadence, signaling the arrival of my transport. My reflection is distorted by the steel as it's pulled apart, allowing me to step inside. I hold my hand at the edge of the cold metal frame, waiting for someone else to enter. No one follows. The doors are slow to close, perpetuating a forced maneuver, an onus task. I always get the feeling I should be anticipating someone—or something. The vessel craves more than one soul, but it only gets me. I move my finger towards the terminal of but...
Time slows when the ability to quantify it is no longer available. Each moment of my life moves reluctantly through each phase, the short tick from the hand moving around a clock. I find myself on this street corner preparing for the juncture that comes next. I reach into my pocket, but I don’t have my phone. I was sure I grabbed it from the counter in the kitchen, but I was in a hurry, it must still be there. Murphy’s ...
Crowds of people exit the stadium, screaming and cheering. An aura shrouds the area, an enchantment of ecstasy. The voices streaming out onto the parking lot and streets expel a sense of gratitude, a sense of happiness. The whole city can feel the brilliance being poured out of the stadium like an overwhelming surge of electricity energizing the souls of everyone living there. As the stadium empties, the hero of the nig...
Shoulders huddle together, enclosing two boys inside a jagged circle. Shouts and laughter is heard down the hall. Bodies shuffle with heads turned, ignoring the event taking place in the center of the ring, blocking the gym, out of sight, out of mind. The huddled mass of students becomes the focal point of Marco’s eyes. He watches, processing every minute of the abuse taking place before him and the other students, onlookers frozen in space, unsure how to react. Some join in, chanting and jeering; others stare, inactive robots waiting to ...
It’s been too long for me to remember all the pain and suffering I may have caused. The path I am on nearing its end, a supernova. I try to feel an ounce of guilt or an ounce of empathy, but I get nothing. Duty above all, as my father used to say. Without responsibility, there is no coherence, no purpose. I am who I am, there is no doubt about that. I have come to terms with the decisions I have made, with the actions I have taken, with the death I have wrought. After all, I am just correcting the wrongs of the universe. I rea...
The wind blows northeast, the sun peeking through the clouds, a harbinger of the rough days to come. Feet gather around the mechanical moving boxes, a strategic formation. There is one voice booming, giving instructions and detailing expectations. A gust of wind brings a multitude of scents: asphalt, lumber, concrete, mud, tears. Urgency radiates from the single voice—the feeling of sorrow and hope. Bruno sits there waiting for the voice to stop, looking beyond the houses, or what is left of them. “We need to inspect the area, we ...
Father. Teacher. Writer. Philosopher.
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