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J.R. Geiger

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2025

Stories (53)
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37 Followers
114 Following

53 Stories

1025 karma pts

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The Cookie Queen and Big Tony

Submitted to Contest #316

Sarah skipped down Main Street in Cedar Falls, her blonde pigtails bouncing with each step. The unicorns on her rainbow shirt practically leaped with her, and her light-up sneakers flashed a cheerful rhythm against the pavement. To anyone who saw her—and most people in town did, at some point—she was just Sarah: five years old, perpetually energetic, and possessed an impressive collection of mismatched socks and enough rainbow-colored ribbons to tie pigtails on at least a two dozen cheerleading squads—TWICE! But beneath the bright exterior a...

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Jack Macintosh: The Perpetual Carrot IV: The Teachers College & Midnight Deliveries

Submitted to Contest #316

The low, dragging sound from the front of the shop stopped. A breath caught in my throat, a taste of cheap sugar and cold dread. I put a finger to my lips, a silent command to Leo, who sat frozen by my desk. His eyes, wide as silver dollars, darted from the heavy wooden case to the doorway. The game wasn’t over. It had just walked in the front door. The door creaked open, the old bell above it remaining silent, a testament to the intruder’s careful approach. But the figure that stepped into the office wasn’t a goon with a gun or a delivery m...

2 likes 8 comments 8
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The Truth Behind A Hero's Mask

Submitted to Contest #316

Author's Note: If you or someone you know is going through a difficult time, help is available. You can connect with people who can support you by calling or texting 988 anytime in the US and Canada. In the UK, you can call 111. These services are free, confidential, and available 24/7. Please reach out for help. *** The sun was a lazy disc melting into the rolling hills of northeastern Iowa. Jack was behind the wheel, the familiar hum of the pickup truck a low, comfortable drone as they drove down Highway 150. Beside him, his very pregnant ...

8 likes 7 comments 7
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Ares Goes to Woodstock

Submitted to Contest #315

The air crackled with an energy Ares hadn't felt since the Trojan War. Of course, that energy had been fueled by the delicious scent of fear and the satisfying clang of bronze on bronze. This energy… smelled faintly of incense and something vaguely floral, underscored by a pervasive aroma of grilled onions. Ares, magnificent in his battle-worn armor (slightly dusty from the chariot ride—parking near Bethel, New York in 1969 was a nightmare, even for a god), surveyed the undulating sea of humanity spread across Max Yasgur’s farm. He’d been dr...

11 likes 8 comments 8
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A King's Burden

Submitted to Contest #315

The night air in Sparta was a sharp, clean blade against his bare skin. Leonidas stood on the small stone balcony, the chill a welcome shock to his system. Below, the city was a deep, silent ocean of slumber. Every house, street, and soul was cloaked in the heavy blanket of pre-dawn darkness. He was a lone statue, chiseled from granite and determination, a silent sentinel watching over the city he loved and was about to leave behind forever. He wasn't cold, not really. The heat of his resolve was an internal furnace, burning away any physica...

3 likes 6 comments 6
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Jack Macintosh: The Perpetual Carrot III: The Penny-A-Page Press & Shakespeare's Pen

Submitted to Contest #315

The quarter was gone from my pocket, but the ghost of it lingered. A small, cold bit of metal that represented a kid’s hope, and a problem that had burrowed into my gut like a woodworm. The air in Cedar Falls had only gotten thicker since Leo left, a wet blanket of heat that clung to the skin. My office was a refuge, the old building's cool air a tired sigh against the oppressive summer. My fedora still sat perched on a stack of unread books, and I was on my third grape Dum Dum of the hour, the sweet, artificial taste doing nothing to cut th...

17 likes 8 comments 8
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Monday, August 10, 2025, 4:41 P.M. CST

Submitted to Contest #315

The phone felt heavy in James' hand, a small, black slab of frustration. He’d been on hold for twenty-two minutes, listening to a soulless loop of what he could only assume was a synthesizer’s attempt at classical music. He could feel the heat radiating from the device, a digital fever that matched the slow burn of his anger. His hot cocoa, once a steaming beacon of hope, was now a lukewarm, bitter puddle at the bottom of his mug. The stale air of his home office, usually a sanctuary, felt thick and suffocating, the only sound the incessant,...

1 like 10 comments 10
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The Reflection III: Homecoming

Submitted to Contest #315

The fluorescent hum of the Fareway grocery store was the last place Dax expected to find a piece of his past. Pushing his cart down the cereal aisle, a voice cut through the mundane noise, making his blood run cold before warming it again with a rush of memories. “David? Is that really you?” He turned to see Kristine, a woman whose beauty had only deepened with time. Her eyes held the same familiar warmth, but now they sparkled with a wisdom he hadn’t known back in high school, before he enlisted. Amidst the cereal, they spoke of their lives...

3 likes 2 comments 2
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A Kings Duty, A Serpent's Nap

Submitted to Contest #314

Author's Note: I decided to incorporate all three suggestions from the prompt. *** King Charles III, in his private chambers at Buckingham Palace, was grappling with a rather peculiar sort of royal lethargy. It wasn’t a mere tiredness from a day of handshakes and ribbon-cuttings; this was a profound, bone-deep weariness that seemed to settle in with the evening mist. He felt as though the very weight of history, embroidered into the tapestries and carved into the mantelpieces, was pressing down upon him. The crown, an object of immense symbo...

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...That Others May Live

Submitted to Contest #314

The dust was a shroud, the heat an unforgiving furnace. Seventy-two hours. Three days since the Blackhawk became a fiery pinwheel against the stark Middle Eastern sky. Airman First Class Samuel "Slick" Simmons, Air Force Pararescue Jumper, a PJ, was running on fumes, both physically and mentally. His canteen had been empty for a day, and the last magazine for his M4 was long gone. All that remained was his trusty Paraeagle knife, a sliver of cold comfort in his increasingly fractured reality. "I can't sleep! I can't stop! They'll find me!" H...

18 likes 8 comments 8
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The Snowman Who Felt the Heat

Submitted to Contest #314

Gus was having the worst day of his life. He was absolutely beside himself. The North Pole had been hit by a brutal, soul-crushing heatwave with the temperature at a balmy -11° Fahrenheit. It was wreaking havoc on his fragile composure. Gus was a decorated member of the North Pole Defense Force, a recipient of the Silver North Star for his heroism during the '99 campaign to quell the yeti uprising. Though he was a North Pole Defensive Unit, Model-1A, whose very existence was predicated on temperatures so far below freezing they had their own...

5 likes 7 comments 7
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Jack Macintosh: The Perpetual Carrot II: Mrs. Perrywinkle's Brownies

Submitted to Contest #314

It was the hottest day of the year. The air was thick and still—the type of air you didn't so much breathe as chew and swallow. In other words, a typical August day here in the Hawkeye State. Inside The Written Word, the old building groaned. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper and dust. In my back office, the electric fan whirred, stirring the stagnant air in a lazy circle. My fedora sat perched on a stack of unread books, a weary sentinel. I was peeling the wrapper off a grape Dum Dum when the little bell over the shop door gave...

5 likes 8 comments 8
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Greater Love Hath No One...

Submitted to Contest #314

CW: Gun violence Bad guy! Gun! Must protect! I charged. Flash—BANG! The acrid smell of gunpowder stung my nose, the sound—sharper and more terrifying than any bad guy’s fear. A searing pain ripped through my side. I stumbled, a strange weakness flooding my legs. My John’s face, a familiar landscape of love and command, twisted in horror. "DUKE!" He screamed, "NOOOOO!" My John scared. Panicked. Not good. He ran to me, dropped to his knees, his strong hands pressing against my wound. Warmth spread, not the good kind. My vision swam. The sounds...

4 likes 6 comments 6
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The Perpetual Carrot: Leo's Frustration

Submitted to Contest #313

The old coffee shop, "The Daily Grind," was a two-bit joint on Main Street in Cedar Falls. The air was thick with the ghost of a thousand cigarettes and the bitter promise of yesterday's brew. Bob, a man with a face like a roadmap of every busted dream he'd ever seen, slid a cup of the black stuff across the chipped Formica. He didn't bother to look at the kid on the other side of the table, a nervous type named Leo, who was wearing a hole in his notebook with the tip of a pencil. "Another loser, eh?" Bob's voice was a low growl, like a car ...

4 likes 4 comments 4
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The Void You Create

Submitted to Contest #313

Dear Reader, Thank you for coming. Uh... you're welcome? As you read this story the words may be confusing, maybe even disorienting. What do you mean confusing? Disorienting? The first thing you notice is the silence. Silence? Is it quiet around me right now, or is the story just starting with silence? Not a peaceful, tranquil silence, but a heavy, suffocating absence of sound. Suffocating? That’s a strong word. Can silence really suffocate? It clings to the air, thicker than any fog, pressing in on your eardrums until they ache. My eardrums...

7 likes 4 comments 4
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