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J.R. Alton

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2024

Stories (7)

Comments

Library

5 Followers

11 Following

7 Stories

91 karma pts

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Unwritten

J.R. Alton

Submitted to Contest #307

The blood had long since faded from his palm, but Tíras still felt the heat of the flame.He remembered the sting of the blade, the white fire rising from the kindling, the way his mentors had spoken the vow: In this flame, we are purified.But memory, he was learning, was not always his to keep.Tíras fidgeted with the pendant hanging by his neck. It was no bigger than his thumb, carved from an unknown alloy, and strung on a cord of Ironwood beads. Etched into the metal was a triangle, inset with an eye—a raven its pupil.It never left his neck...

2 likes

Crow's Feet and Crossed Fingers

J.R. Alton

Submitted to Contest #305

I stared at the crowd and told the biggest lie of my life.“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God.”Roar. Applause. Elation.I was the first true Independent President since George Washington. Before my candidacy was even announced, they were comparing me to the illustrious Father of our Nation. It was an upset to the balance of power. No more Republicans and Democrats ...

5 likes

Gold Streak

J.R. Alton

The crowd erupted. Then came silence. A hundred thousand eyes and half as many mouths sat agog in dumbfounded confusion at what had just happened. A streaker, so fast that even the editing booth couldn't blur out his junk, had sprung over the barriers and stolen the gold medal right off Antonio Reginald Smith's chiseled ebony chest. He had dominated the track and field Olympics on behalf of the United States, coming just ahead of his silver-medal-winning rival, Boris Uri Maxim III, the only Russian Olympian to refuse performance enhancing dr...

1 like

The King's Library

J.R. Alton

Submitted to Contest #251

The desert noonday sun is a brutal master. It demands every ounce of energy and returns nothing–no trees, no shade, no life. Here in the Dunes of Duranan it is relentless. It is a far cry from the icy shores of Agária from whence I hail, but such a journey is necessary if the knowledge I seek can be found hither. For any who should read these words, allow me to expound upon my quest. My name is Émata, scribe of the Dianoa, and student of wisdom. I was raised in the finest learning institutes the northern kingdom of Aglia has to offer, a...

8 likes

Litter for a Friend

J.R. Alton

Derek stared out over the Atlantic Ocean, its white crests succumbing to the will of the biting wind which hit his face. The deep cobalt waters spoke to him in whispers and howls. He closed his eyes as he leaned his elbows against the rickety, wooden pier. The smell of saltwater, pungent during warmer months, was absent here in the New England winter. Of course, he would say that saltwater itself has no smell, but the creatures which live in them do, and olfactory receptors are more prone to receiving stimulus in moist air. The smell never c...

2 likes

I Love Lamp

J.R. Alton

Submitted to Contest #239

Thunderstorms. What an interesting phenomenon. Howling winds, incessant rains, and particles splitting the air with the force of three hundred million volts. Such ferocity, yet here in the safety of her home, Sarah found the raging squall cathartic. Plugging in her electric car, Sarah considered how minuscule its power was compared to the flash of lightning outside the garage door windows. The vehicle was a gift to herself; the final purchase from the paid-out life insurance policy on her late husband, Daniel. He would approve, of cours...

10 likes

Requiem for a Runner

J.R. Alton

Submitted to Contest #235

Rubber soles slapped the damp pavement as heated breath dissipated in the chilled morning air. The fallen leaves had turned hazel underfoot as the last of autumn gave way to winter. There was no need for music; every step was the beating of a drum, and the shrill bird calls like a melody in this symphony of sweat and toil.Four minutes.Aaron picked up the pace. His lungs and heart begged for mercy, his legs a slave to his mind. The world record for fastest one mile would be his and he would torment every fiber of his being to make it so.Three...

16 likes