Jay Stempin

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

58 karma pts

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“ Entertaining Yesterday Now ” by Jay Stempin

Submitted to Contest #25

“What’s the point?” “The point is: resolve to make a change in your life,” said Beatrice with soy-firm resiliency as she sliced her toast with a butter knife. “For the better?” “If you’re so inclined, I supposed that’d help.” Beatrice shrugged, her jade moon-faced necklace glittering in the morning light from the kitchen window. “Just do it.” What was she promoting: his need to craft a New Year’s resolution or a Nike ad for new cross-trainers? Jericho shook his head and began toying with the copper-colored button on his denim Levi’s jacket,...

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“London and Lenore” by Jay Stempin

Submitted to Contest #24

Write a murder mystery with an amateur sleuth who must navigate a fantastical world in a quest to discover the truth. Snip, snap, zip. Just like that: dead. He believed, as a hired contractual specialist, in sealing his kills in a bag, helped keep loose body parts from falling off as he hauled them away, no sense in littering, too; he was all for a green planet. Also ran a recycling shop: selling used body parts: heads, hands, elbows, ears, the whole shebang. More on that some other time. He dragged the body under a willow tree, a little b...

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“Djinni Mugs” by Jay Stempin

Submitted to Contest #24

DJINNI MUGSJay StempinChapter 1Batilda The crescent moon shone bright in the night sky, its beady gray eye haloed by a lopsided grin. Yes, that sharp-edged crescent in the sky illuminated the forest floor, shoving bags of darkness under Mother Earth’s grassy misshapen rug. Batilda Bahama loved taking walks late at night, even when it was cold, especially when flakes of frost bit into her heart. Darkness was her favorite venue. Darkness was her friend. Darkness was a pastime. And when she really thought about it—her faithful enemy. Brought a ...

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“Dye Me Dead” by Jay Stempin

Submitted to Contest #23

DYE ME DEADJay StempinChapter 1Michael The tall bookshelf, bookended by dozens of Medusa-haired skulls, squeaked to life by the sound of a tricycle pedaled by a faerie with daisy petal hair. Green skin. Looked like a flower. She skidded to a halt in front of a paperback edition of Bradbury’s The Illustrated Man. “Hey Mike, what’s the deal? Thought we had plans to get rid of him. As you can see snow’s falling hard. We really should get going. You know how I get around wintry weather.”“Name’s not Mike. H...

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Author bio

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