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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2019
Submitted to Contest #73
The Grand Proposals—George Davis Cecile Lavenmore is what one might call a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and that would be an understatement. Christmas Eve last month, Sissy as she’s known by her friends, was at a party at Brian Forester’s home, a friend who lives on State Street in Portland. The host invited several of his friends to help him celebrate Christmas Eve. There was Harlan Crandlemire, Marvin Hooper, Stanley Haskell, T. Thornton Hewes the Third, and Cecil McMillan, plus Cecile (Sissy) Lavenmore, and Fo...
Submitted to Contest #71
My Kingdom For A Sticky Bun—George Davis The break-in at Stover’s Bakery on Main Street has the police baffled. The only thing missing, according to the owner, Fred Stover is a secret, family formula for making Stover’s Strawberry-Pecan Oven Rolls. When Police Chief, Dexter Wyndham arrived at the shop early Monday morning after being roused from sleep by his sergeant, he discovered the front door had been jimmied. There were scratches on the lock. He stated, “someone used burglar tools for sure.” Wyndham...
Submitted to Contest #62
Humpty Dumpty, the Real Story George Davis The headlines in the Eggland Gazette read, HUMPTY DUMPTY, FELL FROM THE TOP OF THE OLD STONE WALL AT POACHBURG HALL. Mr. Dumpty is in surgery at the Albumin Medical Center. The article went on to say, he had a skull fracture. The King has sent for all his men, ordering them to drop whatever they are doing, and rush to the hospital and make sure, Humpty lives. “I want you to stay with him until he recovers,” the king said. H...
Submitted to Contest #60
Barry Newton’s Awakening—George Davis The long, dark tunnel had no light at its end. Barry Newton walked, hand on the wall of the underground passage. “Wow, it’s pitch-black in here. Where am I?” As Barry moved slowly along the path, his vision sweeping side to side in the black abyss, and his mouth was as dry as a parched desert. The last thing I remember, he thought to himself. I was crossing the street, going to the barbershop for my monthly haircut. I vaguely remember seeing a stretch lim...
Submitted to Contest #58
Fourth Floor To Yesterday—George Davis The tallest building in my city is six-stories. My insurance company, City Casualty and Life is on the fourth floor. It was on a Monday morning when I drove to the Liberty Building on Congress Street. The entrance to the establishment was revolving doors. I hate those contraptions. I always zig when I should zag. After going around two or three times, I ended up in the lobby. The entrance is 30’s art deco-style, with the orna...
Submitted to Contest #52
Sidney Hooper’s Dilemma—George Davis I looked across the street. There he was, big as day; smiling at me. “What the—it can’t be. I murdered you five years ago, and buried your body in a shallow grave behind the Beaver Pond.” “Well, guess what? I, John Phillips, have returned. You can’t keep a good man down, Sidney.” His laugh, the most calling sound I’ve ever heard, filled the vacant air, causing my blood to curdle. “I’m seeing things. I need to call my doctor,” I said. “You’...
Submitted to Contest #46
From Start To Finish—George Davis It has taken me six months, and I’m still working on it, to compose the story you are about to read. It started in June of this year prompted by a friend of mine who wagered $100 if I could write a novel in ten-months. Well, here I am up to chapter 6 and feeling as if I’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler with a full load on his truck. Writing doesn’t come easy to me. I flunked Freshman English and had to take it over again my Sophomore year. I coul...
Submitted to Contest #41
A Vintage Whine George Davis A Vintage Whine George Davis Some folks say I am uncouth, but since I don’t know what that means, I am going to assume it is the opposite of couth. That doesn’t really help because I don’t know what that means either. I only finished obedience school last June, and in school we didn’t learn English or American History. Instead we learned how to obey ou...
Submitted to Contest #25
Oh Sherlock, Where Art Thou?—George E Davis Jenkins’ Bookstore on Main Street in Bickford, Maine is a place where Sidney McDonald spends much of his time. He is, to state a too familiar phrase, a voracious reader of mystery novels; especially the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective, Sherlock Holmes. “Morning, Sidney,” Rose Devons, the clerk said. “Morning, Rose, how’ve you been?” “Since yesterday when you were in here, Sidney? I’m fine.” Sidney knew the self-service aisle ...
Submitted to Contest #22
Countdown to Tomorrow—George Davis “Pass me the potato chips and dip, Ethel,” Tom Mayfield said to his wife. “The ball’s gonna drop in a couple of hours.” “You are so lazy, Tom. The chips and dip are right in front of you.” “I can’t reach them.” “All you have to do is bend forward, stretch out your hand and voilà, you’ve got your treat.” “Can’t you do something to help me once in a while, Ethel?” “If washing your clothes, cleaning up after your meals, scrubbing the floors on m...
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