Glen Loveland

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2023

Stories (4)

4 Stories

104 karma pts

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“Night's Creatures” by Glen Loveland

Submitted to Contest #220

The night was darker than sin and colder than a banker's heart when I took shelter under the bridge. The thunderstorm raged overhead, torrents of rain coming down in icy sheets blown sideways by the howling wind. I was soaked clear through to the bone and shivering something fierce. Still, the bridge provided a respite from the worst of the storm's fury, and I hunkered down, hoping it would pass quickly. That's when I saw it, quick as a flash against the dim shadows—a sleek shape darting past, quiet as a whisper. At first, I thought it mus...

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“Eyes Behind the Eyes” by Glen Loveland

Submitted to Contest #219

The glow of the monitors bathed the small security office in a pale blue light. rows and rows of screens, each displaying a different camera feed from within the labyrinth of China Central Television. I sat motionless in my chair, eyes darting from screen to screen, hunting for any sign of disturbance. This was my duty - to watch and observe, making sure all remained in perfect order. At CCTV, they called us the Eyes of the Party. We were the invisible watchers, the silent sentinels seeing all from the dark. To most, our presence went unno...

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“Dragonhearted” by Glen Loveland

Submitted to Contest #217

Blimey, 'ere we go again. Another day, another dragon to slay. Well not on my watch! Name's Maggie—Sir Maggie to you lot—and I ain't your typical knight in shining armor. More like a knight in slightly dingy iron armor with questionable stains of mysterious origin. But I get the job done, even if me methods are a bit unorthodox. You see, I never much cared for all this hacking and slashing business. Seems a might unfair to the dragons, don't ya think? Sure, some of the blighters get a bit cheeky, hoarding treasures and terrorizing villager...

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“The Art of Awkwardness” by Glen Loveland

Submitted to Contest #216

Vivian fidgeted with her cat-eye frames, a nervous habit since her gawky teen years. She squinted under the harsh glow of gallery track lighting that bathed the cavernous white-walled space. Vivian took in the sea of socialites swirling around monumental oil paintings—abstract figures in fiery oranges, throbbing crimsons, and brilliant cobalt blues. “Gorgeous canvases, aren't they?” trilled Serena, breezing up in an emerald shift dress that set off her petite frame. “Patrick has really outdone himself this time.” Awkwardly, Vivian ...

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Author bio

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