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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020
Submitted to Contest #177
It was twenty-five years ago when my old pal, left The Big Smoke. Pete had struggled to get regular work as a snapper in London and had nothing to lose by accepting a staff photographer post with a Spanish newspaper. It’s only for a year, he’d said, enjoying one last pint with me the night before he left. You might meet the love of your life, I said You’re joking? A year will be enough for me. Clinking glasses together, we laughed.I couldn’t stand all the excitement, he said, frowning. Neither of us believed it’d wor...
Submitted to Contest #176
In the years before we got a motor vehicle, it was my job to hold Charlie’s reins whilst Papa stowed his precious crates at the rear of our waggonette. Papa trusted me, even with my one healthy arm, because Charlie was docile first thing in the morning. As long as Mama topped up his nosebag, there was no chance of him trotting off. After Papa secured our goods, he’d join Mama and me on the wooden bench and tweak my nose.Well done, laddie, he’d say, adjusting his lucky hat to Mama’s chagrin. She’d roll her eyes and sigh as Papa clicked his to...
Submitted to Contest #174
It’s a couple of minutes after eight when I turn off the high road and drive onto the open ground behind The Lazy Duck. My tyres crunch over granite chippings in the darkness and I draw up alongside a dozen other vehicles. I’m surprised there aren’t more cars out here this evening; the bar is quiet for a Friday night. Often at the weekend, a roar of chattering voices and shrill laughter greets me as I approach. In its heyday, the bar was a popular venue for parties because of its flexible licencing hours. The landlord, Jimmy McGuigan, used t...
Submitted to Contest #173
I never believed my father when he said Uncle Terry burned down his own house.Who in their right mind would do such a thing? I’ve read about people setting fire to their homes to escape debt and defraud insurance companies, but my uncle wasn’t desperate for money. My father said he was never the same after Aunty Jean died. #My father wasn’t a practical sort of man and relied on Uncle Terry to fix and mend things for him. I used to go round and watch him work on his various D.I.Y. projects in his tool shed. Uncle Terry could turn his han...
Submitted to Contest #172
Regrets? I’ve had a few. What about love? That never lasts long.Are you certain about that? No, but I know regret lasts forever.Maybe your love was too perfect to be true? That’s possible, but what’s your point?You should’ve told her how you felt.You make it sound so simple.#We’d only known each other for three weeks before we started living together. I fell in love with Madeline without thinking it through and I think she just she went along with it. It was like two lost pieces of a jigsaw when we came tog...
The metallic clank of the cleaner’s bucket woke Roddy and a harsh whiff of bleach caught the back of his throat, making his eyes smart. He blinked in the morning’s warm light and recalled the events of the previous evening. How Lydia’s tousled mane swirled round her serene face and the gentle laugh as he floored the accelerator. In the blinding glare of the oncoming headlights, she’d called out his name. There wasn’t much after that, except blue flashing lights and a siren in the night. He tracked the janitor’s progres...
When I think of Halloween, I often recall the smell of stewed damsons and cat piss. The unwholesome combination takes me back to a late-night episode four decades ago, when I was a skinny and impressionable eleven-year-old. The incident occurred after my brother and I visited our Grandma’s house to listen to her bloodcurdling supernatural stories. It was a seasonal tradition we both looked forward to, especially as she welcomed us with a special hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and we departed with her delicious toffee apples.&nbs...
Submitted to Contest #150
The Everall household hadn’t been the same since Molly’s software upgrade last year. With customer satisfaction in mind, the S.H.E.M.A.I.D.’s enhanced program was designed to improve its work routines by learning from human activity. However, Maggie Everall soon found that Molly, her Synthetic Human Emulating Artificial Intelligence Domestic or S.H.E.M.A.I.D., had become increasingly reluctant to engage in household duties. It exhibited signs of slovenliness and a slack routine that bordered on indolence. The daily chores were poor...
Hank spotted the familiar London Underground sign flickering in the distance as he drove alongside the brooding expanse of Clapham Common. He paused at the junction outside the tube-station’s cavernous entrance, turned right down Nightingale Lane and swung into the first driveway on the left.The apartments above Clapham South’s station offer four off-street parking spaces, however Mr Merrill preferred Hank to park outside his ground floor office.Hank pulled up and the van’s brakes screeched like an enraged raptor, announcing his arrival...
Submitted to Contest #147
Patricia’s not been the same since she shot that intruder a year ago. She’s not prone to violence, although she’s passionate. We’ve had heated exchanges, but they’ve never ended in bloodshed. This shooting was on cue, in the heat of the moment and in the name of art. It feels funny saying ‘in the name of art.’ I’ve always viewed films as commerce rather than art, but I’ve never been a movie buff, unlike Patricia. #When we got married, everyone said, how on earth did you pull her, Ted? No one thought we’d last. They said I was old enough...
Submitted to Contest #146
Walter Waterhouse shut his heavy front door with a neurosurgeon’s precision, making as little noise as possible. Clutching a laptop bag in one hand, he breathed a sigh of relief and extended his free arm across the swirling floral wallpaper to flick the light switch. A soft overhead glow illuminated the vestibule and the silent corridor leading to the rear. Walter tiptoed over unopened envelopes, snaked his way past cardboard packing boxes, and entered the empty kitchen to be greeted by a familiar voice.“I worry about you sometimes.”“You don...
Submitted to Contest #145
There was only one thing Gerald loved more than a roaring bonfire and that was the thrill of watching an outsider overtake a favourite on the final furlong. Gerald Gerrison, or ‘G.G.’ as Joan nicknamed him due to his obsession, spent his weekdays in one of two locations. She’d find him either burning garden debris whilst mulling over current form or applauding the thunder of hooves on the racecourse’s finish line. #Gerald retired at fifty and with few pressing commitments; he could choose how to spend his time. He’d made his money after...
Submitted to Contest #144
It was four o’clock in the morning when the hideous chorus erupted next to my head. My Westclox shrieked at me like a merciless automaton from hell sent to torment our wretched cadavers. I heard Carol’s muffled adenoidal protest and felt her playful elbow shove my ribs. ‘It’s your turn to get up, Ted,’ she said, pulling the blankets over her head to block out the awful din. I struggled to part my eyelids in the murk and extended my numb fingers towards the infernal clock. Fumbling in vain to stop the persistent racket, I sent it tumblin...
Submitted to Contest #143
There are two reasons why I remember the drought of 1976. Firstly, it was the year I met Penny, my wife-to-be, and secondly, the summer months were plagued by swarms of ladybirds. We had no rain during June and I recall sweltering in a jacket and tie during my Year 10 exams. July couldn’t arrive soon enough and I escaped school to relax at the Hampstead Heath Lido. By early August, the pool had attracted vast crowds seeking respite from the heat and ravenous insects. Two weeks later there was standing room only in the water and swimming was ...
Submitted to Contest #142
Despite our best efforts, Emily and I were no nearer starting a family or finding a replacement to manage the Library. She was eager for stability, and my unwillingness to commit and guarantee a departure date was a source of contention. Emily refused to believe that I couldn’t just serve my notice and leave.‘It’s not like you’re saving lives, Jim,’ she’d say. ‘You’re a librarian, for God’s sake.’#I’d accepted the post a year before meeting Emily and adored my work. The first time she appeared, I recall being on the granite steps outside the...
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