Hadley Thompson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2022

Stories (4)

4 Stories

59 karma pts

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“Neon Burnout” by Hadley Thompson

Submitted to Contest #234

Still and humming, the world moves slower here. People talk to not be heard and listen to find there’s nothing to hear. Even the kitchen is tired, too heavy eyed to clatter plates together, whirl machines, or break glasses. There aren’t many orders anyway. My back hurts from standing behind the long counter, wrapping around me and my coworkers like a restrictor, but one of the night, alike all the other people in it’s apathy for the fast pace of time. Somehow even the neon of signs of one liners and brand names are faded to a more average co...

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“The End Of The World” by Hadley Thompson

Submitted to Contest #150

“Please don’t do it. At least not on that side.” His voice shocked her against the half silence of the rooftop, splitting through the white noise of the traffic far below. She hadn't seen him sitting on the opposite edge of the roof, as still as the statutes guarding each corner. “Are you here to jump? Because if you are, I’d say this side is much better. The view is a lot nicer.” She had been standing on the concrete lip of the roof for a while now, watching the ant cars crawl. He’d come to the roof first and since she bursted t...

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“Broken Radio” by Hadley Thompson

Submitted to Contest #149

He creaked his old rocking chair back and forth as he watched stoically over the bleak expanse of beige grass and dirt. The tufts of golden blades hissed and rattled gently in the wind. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and slithered uncomfortably under the rough fabric of his flannel until it was absorbed in the now damp cloth of his lower back. The covering of the porch did little to extinguish the heat. He tapped his finger anxiously against the arm of the wooden rocker. The fields in front of him were a patchwork of dead grass and ...

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““The Sunset” or “The Dusk”” by Hadley Thompson

A sea of turtle necks and clean white walls is a dangerous place. The Arctic would be jealous of how cold and desolate they make outsiders feel but it’s so bitter to not be invited that everyone on the other side of the windows can only feel desperate to get in. It is a requirement of those with a wax sealed letter, the ones allowed to cross the door, to be vile and known. One must have only the exact right words, in their name, on their diploma, in their address, and out their mouth. The art displayed is really only a distractio...

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Author bio

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