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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020
Submitted to Contest #251
He knew it was over after receiving the text message describing the ‘viscous’ male dog she had a close encounter with. Apparently, the message continued, the animal had approached Alice in the park whilst she was eating her leaf salad.The story seemed doubly unlikely to Tom, why would a dog be interested, and who hell the says leaf salad?To him, this little vignette simply reaffirmed his burgeoning resentment toward her. Rather than ask the dog what he wanted, she assumed he was trying to steal her lunch when he may just have wanted directio...
Submitted to Contest #104
Della clung to his legs pitifully that morning. He half-heartedly pulled her away from his ankles and held her up so their eyes were level.“I’m sorry DD but Daddy has to go.”She bawled and squirmed as he handed their daughter to his wife.“Text us from the airport and when you land.” She held a surly Della with one hand and squeezed his arm with the other.He nodded as he closed the apartment door behind him and stepped toward the elevator. The first mode of transport on this longest of days.His taxi was waiting at street level. The local...
Submitted to Contest #103
The top shelf was too highly priced but, when funds allowed, they would drink their fill of the house red that the owner, Tomas, served them in a small carafe bound with cane.“Why do fucking tourists think we drink wine from a basket?” He asked Agnetha for what she felt was the hundredth time. She gazed at him with her serious eyes, hooded and aware as she spoke.“I sometimes wonder what is to become of you Hermann.” Her theatrical studies sometimes made her prose flowery, but it was not as attractive as she believed it to be.“What is that su...
Submitted to Contest #78
Hubert was hungry. He was doing his pitiful wailing thing whilst waddling about the apartment.“I’m hungry too but there is no food so stop pacing about and let me finish my work.”Hubert, as usual, paid no attention to Nell and made his way to the spot behind the sofa where he liked to sit.She tried to ignore the feeling as she stared at the laptop. Her stomach had stopped complaining several hours ago, presumably accepting the fact that there would be no more food today, so the growling protests had ceased.The only thing worse than not eatin...
Submitted to Contest #77
In June 1998 my father, Abel Finch, started living in the attic of our home. I had just turned sixteen so whether this was a response to my coming of age or merely a retraction from society was not clear. It was difficult not to take this personally however at such a formative age in my life. He only set foot outside that attic once more which was during the hot summer of 1999.In the early days of his lofty occupation my mother, a sensible woman, assumed this was merely a phase, perhaps a reaction to the onslaught of middle age or the pressu...
Submitted to Contest #65
He played her piano every day. The shape of his heart would determine whether it was for a few minutes or a whole afternoon as grief sat beside him on her stool and there were days even now, six months later, when he could not bear the weight.She was here, he was sure.She had played every single day, hours and hours of practise. Not to entertain or to impress but for the sheer joy, the feeling of interpreting musical notation from more than a century ago and hearing same the notes that Mozart himself had heard. She felt them, speaking to her...
Submitted to Contest #51
Santiago used a biro to write on the banana. He kept it hidden in the sleeve of his uniform and took pleasure in how the pen effortlessly glided against the yellow skin of the fruit. He thought this one would run out of ink soon and he would need to steal a replacement from the Overseers.The messages were necessarily short, driven by the movements of his Supervisor on the packing line and the lack of real estate that a banana presented. One sentence each time.He finished, always careful not to be observed, and turned the fruit over so that t...
Shortlisted for Contest #43 ⭐️
You can’t just trip over a table every once in a while and convince people that you can’t see. So, I reach out to touch her hand and grab closer to the wrist then slowly move my hand down, so she notices.‘Don’t forget that table in the hall has moved a little bit, the rug is the same but its like six inches further out now’She doesn’t move things around much and when she does, she draws me a little mind map which is so sweet of her. Of course I can see every fucking thing as clearly as you would but from time to time I’ll give my toe a littl...
Submitted to Contest #43
Last week, I think it was Thursday, but I can’t be sure, my Dad turned into a tree. I mean this in the literal sense in that he became one. A beautiful tall oak that sits in the wood just over the back fence of our garden.There’s an old swing there where he used to push me so high that I would almost be fit to puke and only stopping when Mum came out and told us to stop or we’d smash my head open or something.Anyway, just past that swing is the fence and he now towers on the other side, he’s magnificent to see and is about 100 feet tall I th...
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