H.e. Ross

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2023

Stories (38)

38 Stories

677 karma pts

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“Tijuana at Five” by H.e. Ross

Submitted to Contest #209

Words woke me and I looked up through the smell of car mustiness and petrol to a smiling moustache on a strange face. I was still curled in the darkness of the backseat and didn’t know if it had been on a long drive or if we had arrived in Mexico. I didn’t know if I was awake but I did know that we were sitting still now with the engine still vibrating. The moustache man wore dark glasses under a slouchy light brown military kind of hat with a shiny bill. I saw brown skin and a smile but he was just a blur with a background of glaring lights...

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“Happy Day In Her Cove” by H.e. Ross

Submitted to Contest #208

I don’t know where to start. I guess the boat would should be the way to start the story, sir. See, my boat was my life and well, let me begin. The day could have been better but with hopes for a breeze we set out under power. The water was grey, the sky was that kind of somber grey that sort of blended with the bay waters and it just didn’t look good for a sail, but I wanted to impress her, so off we went chugging along. Not even a swell, so the boat moved steadily without any yawing or anything like that. It was like we were driving a ca...

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“BLINK” by H.e. Ross

I woke knowing that I shouldn’t have been asleep. I felt guilty and wet and not sure why. There was something poking my side and I opened my eyes. I was sitting in my half full of water cockpit with a sea above me of green with irregular little web patterns of white foam rising upward. No, I was going down. A rushing sound turned my head upward to thick grey cloud. It was time to force tiredness away. I cupped my hands full of water and splashed my face, noticing that I had wedged the tiller to the lee side of the boat. My legs told me ...

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“Boone” by H.e. Ross

Submitted to Contest #204

Sound, in the true desert, is a force that catches you unawares always. In the bleakness of sand and scrub a shack adjoins a small house with two horses tied to a hitching post leaning their heads down standing aside the wall trying to stay in the shade and out of the hot mid afternoon sun. Inside, through a still, blanketed doorway and thick adobe walls is a dark room, cool by desert standards. There is a bar of thick oak planks atop a row of barrels. In front of the bar are two white cowboys in leather chaps and worn suit coats. ...

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“Tijuana at Five” by H.e. Ross

Submitted to Contest #203

Words woke me and I looked up through the smell of must and gas to a smiling moustache on a strange face. I was still curled in the car’s darkness. I didn’t know if it had been on a long drive or if we had arrived in Mexico. I didn’t even know if I was awake but I did know that we were sitting still now with the engine still vibrating. The moustache man wore dark glasses under a slouchy light brown military kind of hat with a shiny bill. I saw brown skin and a smile but he was just a blur with a background of glaring lights against a pale wa...

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“WINDOWS ” by H.e. Ross

WINDOWS I. ARRIVAL Ahead was a breakwater. Stone, rock and the occasional name of a cemetery resident made way for a housing project thought up in some other town. It was cold and wet, overcast grey with green rising seas swelling down the tube of the entrance way. Nothing was nice, even the seas broke ragged and without logic. The wind was the only constant, a whining forty plus, a chilling freeze. Double reefed main and a small staysail brought him over forty hours in cold mountains of liquid air. His eyelids rose creaking, nothing...

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“Am I Here?” by H.e. Ross

Submitted to Contest #199

Am I Here? H.E. Ross My city is seven miles by seven miles, maybe a little more or less on either side but essentially is a round-edged square. San Francisco is the kind of place you come to or leave. All of my life’s memories of that beautiful place are captured in rum and ice movements with only one big and important memory-box showing me sitting still and that was the day I started sailing. I sat on a rock beneath a small port entry light at the Marina Green and saw for the first time slanted sails driving spear blade hulls through foa...

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“Pigs” by H.e. Ross

Submitted to Contest #196

Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which outwardly appear beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness. Matthew 23:27 (English Revised Version)Teule- The Aztec name for gods when confronted by Cortez on horseback‘Brad?’ he called to the Captain, ‘Where exactly are we going? I could leave a message for Rod to join us.’Brad’s tactful smile faded and came back instantly. His right eyebrow arched beneath the new tactful smile. ‘Hey Simon, I wish I c...

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Author bio

I am a Black San Franciscan who has been sailing for over 58 years and writing for about 30 of those years. I have either created or assisted the creation of four maritime heritage organisations with an emphasis on African Diasporic contributions to the skills involved under sail. I have written for publications and have published two magazines, one maritime heritage book and a self-published novel. I am presently sitting on several unpublished novels, short stories and quite a bit of poetry. My partner and our sons live in Cornwall, England and I had about thirty years of living, working and sailing in the Caribbean.