Ian Gonzales

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (48)

48 Stories

1448 karma pts

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“A Gnawing Ache” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #272

I hold higher the torches I grip in each hand, driving the encroaching darkness back a bit farther. I peer into the surrounding shadows, holding my breath to hear better. The night-bound forest around me is still and silent, ominously so. I see nothing but the pale trunks of trees and thick brush, all of it patchworked with new-fallen snow. No small creatures rustle through the undergrowth between the tall oak, maple, and pine trees. No birds flutter through the cold, dark sky or cry out. The only motion is the slow fall of heavy white flake...

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“See What Sticks” by Ian Gonzales

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #266

Okay, this is your story. I get that. You’re the writer, the creator and all that. But I’m the protagonist. The main character. The one the story is all about. So we need to talk.*I stop in front of the door to Room 451. I can tell it’s supposed to be locked, but the splintered jamb and inch of darkness showing tells me it isn’t any more. Pushing back my fedora, I scratch my head, glance up and down the dimly lit hallway, taking in the faded wallpaper and worn carpeting. This case has already been one for the record books, and it keeps getti...

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“My Last Selfie” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #258

“Do you recognize either of the people in this picture?”It’s the question I always ask, pretty much the first thing I say to most people I meet.The woman looks at the picture I hold out to her, the glossy paper dimmed with time and handling, the edges frayed and worn. It a selfie, two people in the frame, a man and a woman, one clearly holding the camera, with a beautiful backdrop of forested mountains behind them. They’re both smiling, standing close together. Very close.She looks at the photo. Really looks at it. Not a quick glance, dismis...

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“The Title” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #256

Well, this is it. What it all comes down to. The Moment.I’m in my corner, coated in sweat. Livid bruises are rising all over my body, where my chest, arms, legs, and face have absorbed one punch, one kick after another. My hands tremble with pain, like two white hot points of agony at the ends of my arms. My manager has an iced coin pressed to a small gash above my left eye, trying to get it to stop bleeding before the referee notices it.“You’re doing fine, Bobby,” he says, his hot breath wafting into my face. “Just fine. This is it. This is...

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“Hear It Coming” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #250

We sit at the kitchen table, a game of Life spread out in front of us. I’m trying to decide if I want to go through the College path, or just get right to making money. But only part of me is thinking about the game. The rest is listening to my parents argue.Well, maybe argue isn’t the right word. But then, neither is listening.They sit there, across from each other, staring at the colorful board, and I can tell they aren’t really seeing it. Mom has her hands clutched tightly together on the tabletop, so tightly that her knuckles are white. ...

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“Tap Tap Tap” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #247

“We don’t go past the Hatch. Ever.”I stand before Mal, hands shoved in the pockets of my worn jumpsuit, a sullen glower on my face. “Maybe if we did, we’d know why our world is falling apart.”For as long as anyone can remember, we’ve lived here, in the Habitat Section. We don’t know where we came from, who put us here, or why they did it. And no one seems interested in finding out. Mal scowls at me. “No one believes that, Wit. Our world is just fine. The Habitat Section has lasted this long; it will keep going. The Machines will see to that....

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“Hope on the Wind” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #240

A piece of paper, crumpled and tattered, blew past her feet, fetching up against a leg of the park bench where she sat. She looked down, pulling her attention away from her laptop screen. The bit of paper rattled against the rusty metal, making her think of some poor, forlorn thing, desperately seeking any shelter it could find. Then she spotted the writing on it.“What’s this?” she murmured to herself, bending over to pick up the scrap.She smoothed it out, to find that it looked like a letter someone had started, just a greeting and a single...

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“The Rest of My Life” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #238

I crash through the door, the bell hanging from the handle jingling wildly. I’m breathing heavily, chest aching with more than the need to draw a good lungful of air. There are only a couple of people in the small diner at this hour of the night: the late-shift cook behind the counter, a couple of teenagers in a corner booth.And… her.“Something wrong, buddy?” the cook asks me, an annoyed expression on his face.I shake my head, a dismissal of his question and his very existence. At that moment, nothing has any meaning except her.She’s sitting...

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“All the Stolen Moments” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #234

“Can I help you?” I come back to myself with a start, surprised as always that I lost track of time. It’s happening more and more lately, as I slowly lose control of the gift that I turned into a curse. “Oh, uh, just this.” I place a carton of a dozen eggs on the counter, careful not to set them down too hard. Such fragile things, eggs. A bit like hopes. Or dreams. “I don’t know, mister,” the smiling woman behind the counter says, eyeing the eggs like I’ve set an uncut diamond in front of her. Her nametag says “Melissa,” but I don’t need to ...

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“Lucky to Be Here” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #228

I know I’m lucky to be here, but I keep having to remind myself. Like repeating it often enough will somehow make it true. The computer screen in front of me displays the latest report that I’m trying to complete. My vision blurs, and I blink to bring the letters and numbers, the tiny boxes I’m supposed to fill, back into focus. I’ve been at this since half past six this morning, and it’s getting to me. When I joined prestigious research corporation Luminor, I thought I’d be doing something more glamorous than data entry. But every ladder h...

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“Keep Reading” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #223

What am I doing here? Sherry thought to herself, slotting yet another large, old book into its place on the scuffed metal shelf. With the squeak of rusty wheels, she pushed the cart a few feet farther down the aisle, paused to check her list, then hefted another heavy tome up onto the shelf. As she slid it into place, a puff of dust arose, billowing into her face. She backed away, coughing. This was awful, and totally not worth the extra credit toward her journalism major. Sherry paused in her work, catching her breath again, and looked aro...

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“Like 4 Ever” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #221

It’s the first time in a month I’ve left my house. The first time in a month I’ve worn anything except my pajamas. The first time I’ve done pretty much anything since I got the diagnosis from my doctor. I shift in my seat, glancing around the space I’m in. It’s a nice enough waiting room, with comfortable furnishings and pleasant decorations. Paintings of peaceful landscapes and actual live plants. Everything’s done in soft, muted tones. All designed to be soothing and comforting. Necessary, I guess, considering what they do here. Now I’m t...

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“Smug Little Bomb” by Ian Gonzales

Submitted to Contest #219

I wake up with a pounding headache, to find myself lying on a small metal bed of the industrial type. You know, the kind you find in a prison. Instantly alarmed, I roll over, struggling not to lose the contents of my stomach, and peer blearily around. That’s when I realize I’m in a cell. At least, I think it’s a cell. Walls of hard concrete surround me. There are no windows. The only light is a soft, diffuse glow from a recessed fixture in the ceiling, a good ten feet overhead. The only furnishings are the singularly uncomfortable cot benea...

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“Another Chance” by Ian Gonzales

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #216

“Good morning, Arthur,” I say, as the thick metal door shuts behind me with a ponderous clang. Multiple locks automatically click into place, sounding like a series of gunshots. “How are you today?” “Oh, just peachy, Doc.” The man sitting on the other side of the table shifts in his chair. The links of the manacles he wears—bolted to the scuffed, battered tabletop—jingle and clink. “And you?” “Can’t complain, Arthur. Can’t complain.” I set a folder on the table, careful to keep it out of Arthur’s reach. Then I slip into the seat opposite him...

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“That All Important First Scene” by Ian Gonzales

🏆 Winner of Contest #208

“Okay, let’s go over the first scene.” “Right, but let’s do it on the go, ‘cause we’ve gotta move, and I mean now.” Logan Steele sets off at fast trot, hurrying down the hallway of the ubiquitous Government Agency Headquarters. His long legs carry his broad-shouldered, powerfully built body along at brisk pace. I hurry to keep up with him, panting for breath in only a few strides. “Think we could slow this down a bit?” I gasp, heading past doors with block print nameplates, framed posters of suited figures shaking hands, and signs reminding ...

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Author bio

Ian Gonzales has not written a bio yet!

Winning 2 stories 🏆

Contest #208
That All Important First Scene – read story
Contest #17
No Place Special – read story

Shortlisted 3 stories ⭐️

Contest #266
See What Sticks – read story
Contest #216
Another Chance – read story
Contest #181
Bullets and Feathers – read story