Jarrel Jefferson

“The Bomb” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #199

I plant a bomb, for old time’s sake. It’s a rather large one, under the stage where the honky-tonk band plays songs that make everyone two-step. In less than thirty minutes it will detonate, killing everyone in the Red River Saloon. Unless you stop me like you always do.  More people are gathered on the dance floor than at the bar. Good. Gives me room to sit and enjoy a drink. I need to kill time until you show up. I strut to the bar in my boots and my cowboy hat and my tight jeans. Unassuming. One of the innocent. “Round me up a shot o...

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“NPC's” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #196

We are static characters. We are pixilated snails leaving trails of slime for no one to follow. We want someone to come along and acknowledge our existence. We want to be used for her needs, to provide her with experiences that will enhance her journey, this beautiful stranger. We live in some town or city or country with a name unimportant to you, where it is suggested that things are happening. That foods are being purchased even though the supermarket clerk stands mute and ignored and lonely. That buildings are being built even though no ...

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“Dry Lips” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #194

I told Samantha I’d eat my hat if she could convince our parents, who’ve been divorced for twenty-two years, to get back together. I said this jokingly, thinking that her vow to undo Mom and Dad’s divorce, the thing that her and I agreed scared us worse than anything, was also a joke. But she was serious. Last month our parents got married—or remarried, I guess—and during the ceremony I could feel Samantha staring at me with I-told-you-so eyes while clutching my favorite hat, a cap in U.S. colors that says Mayor of Titty City, a hat I h...

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“Brooke and Pontchartrain” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #187

A man kicks down a door in slow motion. He wears all black under a black trench coat, and shades purely for the aesthetic. It is after midnight. You hear a guitar riff to set the tone. You see neon lights from the ceiling to set the mood—flashing green and purple that flirts with the room. From his hip, the man lifts his weapon: a fluffy, orange cat wearing a black spiky collar. More guitar sounds. Very grunge. Fits his loner vigilantism. He holds the cat like an assault rifle, but this cat doesn’t care about nothing—you can tell by the look...

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“The Midnight Ramble” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #186

I am dying. A phornix has invaded my gut and is eating me from the inside.  I heard they go away on their own after a week, but two weeks have passed, and I can still feel sharp teeth munching on my intestines. I open my internet browser and look up how to kill a phornix that’s still inside you. The first result to pop up is an article from TheMidnightRambler.com titled “One Mother’s Surprising Phornix Remedy,” written by Jeremy Jenkins. I start to read: Maggie Thatcher, a single mom from Massachusetts, feared the worst when she ...

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“Lynchburg” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #181

Donald Smith decided to build a cabin deep in the woods when he learned that he was the werewolf terrorizing his hometown of Lynchburg, VA for the past year. He started to piece his memories together, the fleeting images of places such as Blackwater Creek and the Budget Inn, places he would have no reason to visit, places coinciding with reported incidents of werewolf attacks and missing persons. He did remember once a month waking up with a debilitating headache and covered in blood. His wife, Abigail, claims to have known about his conditi...

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“Sarah's Family Sitcom: Holiday Special” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #178

I love my family for exactly twenty-three minutes, excluding commercial breaks. Across my face, fragmented footage of each cast member, all of us clumsy and smiling. A catchy jingle tunes out my screaming, and no one can see the terror popping from my eyes as I realize I cannot escape THE CHRISTMAS EPISODE. It is a cold, snowy winter morning, and I am wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I am rigid yet my body shivers. I hug myself with little relief, yet it is my best effort against the freezing winds stabbing my skin. Dad shuffles on-screen th...

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“Hypothetical Marriage” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #176

Sara hid in the bedroom closet of her boyfriend, Trevor, wearing his sunglasses, hoodie and sweatpants. He lied face down on his mattress, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. Sara watched from the slight opening of the closet door as he wiggled his cute little tush in Sara’s direction. He played the innocent coed studying for final exams, while she played the creepy stranger out to have her way with him.  But just before she pounced on her prey like a lion on an antelope, smoke burst in the middle of the room. When it dissipated, there s...

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“Joe Pooped Himself, And Other Things” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #166

Joe went number-two in his pants again. When I asked him to come to the board to solve 12 times 11 in front of the class he squinted. I told myself he was analyzing the problem, but after the audible grunt, and his excusing himself to go to the restroom, and that familiar stink in the air, I felt stupid for not seeing it coming. This was the third time in five weeks he purposefully crapped himself to avoid a situation in which he would likely look foolish front of the class. Yet in his limited wisdom he chose a worse outcome. “Mr. ...

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“Flavored People” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #162

tw: dismembered body parts He kept his gun pointed at her even as they sat across from each other at his little wooden table in his little apartment living room. He held his weapon against the table, between his wine glass and a single lit candle centerpiece. “I promise you,” she said, “I won’t tell a soul if you let me go right now. Not the cops. Not my friends. Not even my deaf grandma.” A little old man shuffled toward them holding the handles of a silver serving tray. He transferred in front of each of them a bowl of steaming soup. “Th...

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“The Serpent's Favor” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #156

“Plant the snake eggs, slave” Molly demands. She makes a whipping motion at me, along with the sound effect with her mouth. “This fucking kid, I swear to God,” I murmur to myself as I bury my tennis balls in the backyard. Now I can’t play tennis because my crazy little niece thinks they’re eggs that will hatch into snakes to do her bidding. As I smooth out the dirt over my tennis balls with my shovel, she rubs her hands together like a maniacal villain. I take out my phone to text my sister, Nicole, who’s in the middle of her two-week romant...

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“Hold My Hand, Lick My Ear” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #154

He charges $200 an hour. I give him the cash upfront. “What’s your pleasure?” he asks in his Spanish accent. I expect him to present himself in a more sensual manner, to really try for my money, but no. He was as overused as a felt doll. I realize at this moment that cats of his profession didn’t need to “try.” He is the prettiest hunk of feline I’d ever met, and he just needs to not say no.  I tell him I wanted to cuddle.  He looks at me as if I’d just asked him to pluck out his whiskers. But he doesn’t say no. Thirty minutes in, ...

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“Lonely, Aromatic” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #143

“Jarek, can I tell you a secret?” asked Sally, the talking shrubbery. “You can ask me anything,” said Jarek, dreamingly.  “I like your friend, Beckett. Like, like-like.” “Beckett? He’s not my friend. He’s an asshole. Everyone in school thinks so.” “Really? I’ve only seen him be nice to you. Plus, he’s really pretty. I so want to get to know him.” Jarek was silent, seemingly to reflect for a moment. “Everyone’s nice when they want something from you.” “Oh…that’s pretty grim. Hey, someone’s coming.” Two petite girls wandered down the pave...

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“Punching Myself In The Face Again” by Jarrel Jefferson

I’m sorry, y’all, I’ve failed as a writer. I haven’t submitted a story to Reedsy since December. I wanted to end my drought this week and write a story about someone trying to do something knowing that they’ll fail, but I’ve been so busy lately. I’ve recently been promoted to team lead at KTP (Kill Them Puppies). It’s a company where we kill puppies. I spent seven years stabbing puppies, from 3PM to midnight. They would look at me with drooping heads and a whimper. Then I’d stab them through the heart. Now I wake up at 8AM every morning to m...

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“Abject” by Jarrel Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #124

—an exploding key? What a terrible thing to invent. He lied on his side, in shock and in pain, and curled into a little ball.  Just then, he stood there, staring at nothing in particular. Perhaps he heard something in the background, something so close to being recognizable that he needed to stop the figure out where he heard it before. Or maybe there was something about the color of the corridor in which he walked—burgundy that transitions into black the further you look—that reminded him of a feeling he once had, but he couldn’t qui...

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