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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020
Submitted to Contest #78
That overcast morning whilst walking down a forlorn trail, Michael picked up a rusted gear cog from the forest floor. It was the size of his fingertip, cold to the touch. He grew fond of it immediately. So worn, gritty, rough around the edges. He could only imagine what contraption it was once a part of. Now he was staring at it on his worktable. “What to do with it?” he thought, tapping his fingers on the cheap folding table. Maybe he could use it on his “magnum opus”. An unfinished sculpture made of paper mâché, wire and tape, lurking fro...
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