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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2020
The new kid stood there at the door of Mrs. Hill’s fifth-grade class. He wore thick glasses and red jeans. Who wears red jeans? I paid attention to the looks he got from other kids. I could see that they judged him as a weirdo and an outcast. I felt sorry for the new kid. Mama told me a story once about when she was the new kid in school. When her daddy died they moved to Cleveland from the safety of their little town. They moved there because Great-Aunt Celia lived there. Mama told me how scared she had been when she walked into ...
Submitted to Contest #234
It came up from the west—an angry, roiling black wall five-thousand feet high and moving at sixty miles an hour. Clayton saw it coming and threw a tarp over the chicken coop, put the mule and cow into the cowshed and tied grain sacks loosely over their heads. Olive stuffed damp tea cloths and sheets into the cracks around the doors and windows, though she knew nothing she did would be enough to stop the dust. As suffocating darkness swept over their little farmhouse, the husband and wife huddled together under blankets. Grit peppered the win...
Submitted to Contest #221
Her Aunt Rosie had a camera that could do that. If you looked through the lens while you pushed a little dial with your finger, the image would get bigger. It took a little while for the picture to come back into focus—but then you could do it again, and the image would get bigger still. Tammy had always liked playing with the camera. Liked leaning with her elbows on the windowsill, peering at birds in the treetops of the woods behind their house. She was in those woods now. Without the camera. High in a tree. It was night but she wasn’t ...
Debby Larsen surveyed her realm, the cafeteria of Williamston Junior High, which also served as the school’s gymnasium. At either end of the long room a basketball hoop and backboard hung beneath banners that encouraged, “Go, Hornets, Go!” and “Just Say No To Drugs.” Posters for the school play flanked the small stage on one side, while bleachers took up the length of the opposite wall. This is where the Mid-State Regional Science Fair happened every March, and where, every November, curtained partitions hid citizens as they voted for school...
Dick Demke smiled at the pretty, dark-haired flight attendant and made his way back to Row 17. The rest of the passengers on LAN Flight 690, the red-eye non-stop from JFK to Guayaquil, Ecuador, were already in their seats, but that had been part of Dick’s plan. He had arrived at the gate as late as possible, and had caused a scene there. He had pulled off his misdirection perfectly, not a difficult thing to do in the crowded and confusing atmosphere of the security check. Dick found his row and shoved his hand baggage into the overhead bin....
Lawrence rang the doorbell a fifth time. “God damn it!” he muttered. Where’s the nurse? It was costing him $195 a day for 24-hour care for his mother, yet no one was here to answer the damned door! He stormed back to his car. Even though the money he was paying to Peaceful Passages was his mother’s and not his, every penny wasted was a penny he wouldn’t receive as part his inheritance, and that ticked him off. He was also irritated because while her doctors agreed that Dorothy was ready for hospice care, they refused to hazard a guess as to ...
Submitted to Contest #140
“Where one is forgotten but not gone.” Pamela chewed on her pencil. Number 39 across was a word with lots of vowels. The title of the puzzle was “The French Connection.” How to say “to forget” in French?” She’d excelled in the language in college. Oublier, of course. Pamela penciled in, O-U-B-L-I-E-T-T-E. She remembered the first time she’d ever heard that word. She’d been with Charles in a castle in England somewhere, or maybe in Wales. It was during their grand European honeymoon. They’d visited so many castles then, because as a chil...
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