Frank Mahindaratne

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2023

Stories (4)

4 Stories

70 karma pts

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“Red-Handed Fury” by Frank Mahindaratne

Submitted to Contest #278

Blood dripped from the massage table, pooling on the polished floor, tracing grooves in the wood. I stood in the doorway, taking it all in—the slick trail down Timothy Cooper’s arm, the gash across his throat, the dull glaze in his lifeless eyes. The copper tang of blood filled my nose, heavy and clinging to my senses. In the corner, Mai sat huddled, trembling. Blood smeared her hands and face, streaked her clothes. It wasn’t hers—I knew that much. She stared at the floor like she didn’t dare lift her head. Next to her, Ms. Lou, the Madame o...

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“The Weight of Truth” by Frank Mahindaratne

Submitted to Contest #278

Content Warning: This story contains themes of family conflict, trauma, betrayal, and self-harm, which may be distressing to some readers. “I didn’t kill him, but I handed him the gun,” my father told me. He was on hospice, on his last stretch of breath, and he had just revealed to me a deep, dark secret. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked, my voice steady, though my thoughts churned in shock. The room felt suffocating, as though the very air carried the weight of his words. Shadows clung to the corners, the single lamp on the bedside ...

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“Once More for Tracy” by Frank Mahindaratne

Submitted to Contest #218

By 5:30 p.m. Earl had an audience of four gathered around him as he played Killing Me Softly on the harmonica. There was an older black couple, a young skater boy, and a sizzling brunette woman all hovering over Earl. The black couple (had to be in their thirties) swayed side to side to the tune, the young skater boy (sporting dirty dreadlocks, smelling awfully loud with the aroma of ganja) drummed his hands on his chest and hummed the words to the chorus as Earl played on: “Strumming my pain with his fingers…singing my life with his words...

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“Taboo Soup” by Frank Mahindaratne

Submitted to Contest #217

The room is dark, and I am in heaven. I am lying on my belly on a cozy leather couch, Terry’s knees folded on either side of me as she sits on my back, massaging hot oil into my flesh. I lied to her today. I told her I was terribly ill so that she would finally see me face-to-face. Terry is such a compassionate woman, and I knew that she couldn’t say no to that. There was, however, one condition: I had to come to her, on her terms—though the terms did include a homemade broccol...

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Author bio

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