Giulio Coni

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025

Stories (7)

7 Stories

112 karma pts

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“Victor” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #291

"Victor awoke, mouth a dustbowl, brain a tape rewound too many times, ancient. A hangover, mythic, the kind that warps existence, livers beg for mercy. Something reeked: rancid whiskey, stale cigarettes drowning in coffee. Maybe him.He rose, a war vet from slumber, dragged himself to the desk. The manuscript, a perfect stack, as if night-delivered. A murder, pre-written. Did he write it? Yes, surely. Or so he willed himself to believe.He grasped it, flipped through pages, not before snorting some coke on it. A bomb. The bomb. Metanarrative a...

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“while True” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #290

I reach out to touch her, but my hand passes through empty space. Her eyes gleam in the quantum projector as her voice – soft, metallic – repeats, "I [ERROR: EMOTION_NOT_FOUND] you." There's no flesh, no warmth, just light. She died years ago, yet she's here, a fragment of data preserved for eternity."You have to let me go," she says, anticipating my gaze. The algorithm even knows my pain.I close my eyes, turn off the device. Only silence remains.In the future, [ERROR: EMOTION_NOT_FOUND] doesn't die. But it doesn't truly live either.The cons...

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“To Build a Mice Civilization” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #289

PART ONEDr. Amedeo RinaldiDr. Amedeo Rinaldi had dedicated his life to one purpose: rebuilding civilization from scratch. Only the world didn't need another human civilization. He had already seen the disaster men made, and he—an outcast scientist, reduced to living in the basement of a university that ignored him—wanted to prove something different.So he chose mice.It wasn't an experiment in the traditional sense. There were no cages, no rewards for conditioning. There was an entire miniature city built in his basement: tunnels made of page...

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“Nuestra Lima of Perfection” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #288

The sun of Lima was not just a promise kept, it was a declaration of perfection. Every morning it rose, a golden disc in a sky of endless, immaculate blue, pouring down upon the city a light so warm, so mercilessly constant that it seemed to deny the very concept of change. It did not burn, did not blind—flawless, pitiless, like all of Lima.The streets, paved with smooth, gleaming stone, curled between pastel colonial buildings, their facades touched by the invisible brush of some fevered painter, obsessed with harmony. A faint wind, a whisp...

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“Brina” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #287

Brina's teacup clatters against its saucer, spilling droplets of mint-infused liquid across the worn wooden table. The knocking echoes through her cottage, a staccato rhythm that seems to reverberate in her very bones. With trembling hands, she sets down her cup and rises, her feet carrying her to the door almost of their own accord.The latch creaks as she opens it, revealing a sight she never expected to see on her humble threshold. Princess Elara stands before her, resplendent even in her distress, her silk gown catching the dappled sunlig...

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“Counterclockwise” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #286

I. Present: The EndThe sound of the murky water of the Tiber mingles with the cries of seagulls soaring above the shacks of Fiumara. Giacomo, the last descendant of the family, clutches the fob watch between his grease-stained fingers. It's an heirloom now out of place, with its chipped face and hands frozen at some random hour of a forgotten day. His hand trembles, not from cold but from fear. Something moves in the shadows behind him.A shiver runs down his spine as he hears footsteps slowly approaching. His heart pounds in his chest, as if...

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“Camel Yellow” by Giulio Coni

Submitted to Contest #285

I observed me from afar, hidden among the shadows of the boardwalk. The time machine I had stolen – or perhaps invented, I could no longer recall – had brought me there, to that summer of 2000. I didn't know why I had chosen that particular day, but now that I saw him – saw myself – I understood. There was a sweetness in that memory, a whisper of something lost, that I needed to rediscover.He – I – was thirteen years old and didn't yet know that carefree joy could evaporate like the morning mist. He sat in a corner of the skating rink, hands...

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