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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2019
Submitted to Contest #96
Destiny’s Portrait—George Davis I was sitting at a table in the Bickford Inn eating my breakfast when the door opened and a funny-looking stranger entered. He was no more than five-five and probably weighed less than one-hundred pounds, soaking wet. He came over to where I was seated. “Good morning, Sir,” he said, a wide smile on his ruddy face. “Good morning,” I said. Extending my hand, “My name is Damien Foster.” “Benjamin Grand, not Grande as in the river.” &n...
Submitted to Contest #94
There’s No I In Challenge—George Davis Hamilton Joseph Feeney has always been a cautious person. Not one to perform any act outside of decency, and dignity. Today, however, Hamilton has accepted a severe challenge. If he finishes the task set before him by his looney neighbor, Oscar Means. Oscar challenged Hamilton to a dare. Hamilton is to jump from a three-story building into a small plastic swimming pool. If he does this stunt, his prize will be two-fold. One, he will be a hundred dollars richer. Two, he will w...
Submitted to Contest #92
End your story with a truth coming to light. Double Your Fun—George Davis “Horace Hilton,” Margery his wife called. “How long will it take to mow the grass out front? It’s as high as the swamp reeds down at the Beaver pond.” “Give me a break, Marge. I work hard all week. I like to rest on the weekends.” “Your job is part-time, Horace. You only work four days a week at that miserable place.” “Yeah, but I work hard when I’m there. The boss, Mr. Jarmin says I’m one of his best workers.” ...
Shadows On The Stairs—George Davis At noon, we arrived at Hickory Manor in the western hills of Maine in the small town of Cumberland Falls. The realtor said the manor was, as some say, haunted. This excited me. I remembered the old TV series, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. Captain Gregg haunted the home but became a member of the family. The dark ominous clouds hung over the large Victorian home like a funeral shroud. The scene was akin to a 40s horror movie, only the lightning and thunder were missing. ...
Submitted to Contest #91
Unsuccessful Installments—George Davis What excuse can I use? My library book is overdue by sixty-four days. Five cents times sixty-four is three dollars and twenty cents. If it cost a nickel to go around the world. I couldn’t get out of my dooryard. I am flat broke, and my father won’t lend me any more money. He says I haven’t paid him back since I was five. I called my very best friend, Salvatore Pignetti. Maybe he can lend me enough money to pay for my delinquent book. “Hi, Sal, how’s it going?” ...
Submitted to Contest #90
The Essence Of Time—George Davis I was on a train traveling from Boston to Portland, Maine late on a Thursday afternoon. The car was packed with leaf-peepers heading to photograph and enjoy the beautiful, multi-colored leaves of red, orange, yellow, and green fall foliage. As I sat in the dining car drinking my third cup of coffee and staring out the train’s window. I was lost in thought when a young lady, I guessed, in her late twenties sat down. “Do you mind if I sit here, mister?” “N...
Submitted to Contest #87
Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread—George Davis Frank Moses sat pondering his next prank, April first. He started last April plotting his mischievous act. It was so diabolic in nature it even scared Frank. He was thrilled at his new plan even though he'd have to wait a year to see it through. I wonder what the guys at work will think of it. I bet they won’t get a good night’s sleep for months. It has been one whole year in the planning. It should go off without a hitch. Phoebe McCall is one of my c...
Submitted to Contest #85
Tongues Of Fire—George Davis That’s the thing about this town. Everybody knows everybody’s business. This small town, Bickford, Maine, has more gossipers per square mile than any other town in the country. Take, for example, Mildred Skillins the town crier. She is the major rumor conduit in our small settlement. Nothing gets by this woman. Nothing! Jake Storm calls Mildred every morning to get the latest update on the town’s goings-on. Thus the gossip gets an early start. Mildred tells Jake. Jake t...
The Reign Of Confusion—George Davis In my business I meet a lot of strange people. I have held a PI license for the past twenty years. The story I am about to tell you is true. I know. I lived it. My name is Damien Blake, born in the small town of Bickford in Maine, a rural area thirty miles northwest of Portland. I moved to the big city to set up my practice. The building known as Watson Towers is the tallest structure in Maine. At eighteen stories high it has no equal. It is in this building my story begins.&n...
Submitted to Contest #84
Harvey Fogg’s Sequester—George Davis R 3/10/21 Harvey Fogg’s a small man with a winsome smile, a chiseled chin accentuated by a rather large proboscis. One morning in May last year, he sat in his black leather recliner and immediately fell into the arms of Morpheus. Normally when Harvey rested in his recliner, he woke in an hour or two; got up, and went upstairs to bed. Not this time. He did not wake in an hour or a day for that matter. He was dead to the world. Harve...
Submitted to Contest #82
Pardon Me Your Chips Are Showing—George Davis Gavin Oliver is the chief technician at Herman Electronics, a leader in the manufacturer of androids. His research in AI Artificial Intelligence is unparalleled. Electronics Today, a noteworthy magazine for modern-day techies says, ‘Gavin Oliver is today’s leading authority on AI androids.’ This is the story of an android that escaped from the lab from which he was created by, Gavin Oliver. This robot, if you will, was designed and manufactured to...
Submitted to Contest #81
Table For Two—George Davis Herbert Pillsbury called the Bickford Inn to make reservations for him and his newest girlfriend, Adelaide Norton. She is the prettiest thing ever walk God’s green earth. She’s more beautiful than a basket of good, ripe Maine Blueberries Herbert thought. “Yes, Mr. Pillsbury, we can accommodate your request: dinner for two on Friday the 12th,” Owner and maître D,’ Orrin Welch confirmed the reservation. “Well, Hon, it’s all set. I’m taking you to the Bickford Inn for di...
Submitted to Contest #80
Remembrance Of War—George Davis I remember the year I read about the end of the war in Japan: VJ Day. August 14, 1945. Two of my aunts and I made a large, man-sized effigy of Hirohito, Japan’s emperor. It was six-feet tall, stuffed with old rags, and we painted a face with slanting eyes and a black mustache. We attached a cardboard sign to his rear that said: Kick me. We dragged it uptown and watched as several highly excited locals kicked the cloth effigy. The last time I saw that rag dummy,...
Submitted to Contest #77
The Icy Waters of Yesterday...George Davis (A True Story) The young man came to Stroudwater, a small section in the city of Portland Maine where his friends, two brothers lived. He rode his bike over from Westbrook in search of a Christmas tree for his school classroom in nearby Westbrook. He asked the brothers to help him find and cut a suitable tree. The sun, bright on this December morning, reflected off the snow that laid like a beautiful white carpet on the frozen ground; warm for that time of ...
Submitted to Contest #76
Absolution—George Davis It seems to me, Charlie Bascomb could take a few lessons on listening to someone else for a change. He always has to get his opinion into every conversation. It is my considered opinion. Charlie is in love with Charlie. I’m forever forced to listen to Charlie spout off. He is a staunch Democrat. In his own words, he is a free-thinker. I’m not opposed to listening to him run off at the mouth about everything. However, I am opposed to the fact he doesn’t let me, or anyone else, have a co...
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