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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025
Submitted to Contest #325
The chill of the desert morning awakened Paul, who was wrapped up in his worn sleeping bag. He hastily jumped to the smoldering fireplace to rekindle the fire. Paul enjoys sleeping under the desert floor, under the stars, but now, at daybreak, he needs coffee. His gummy and blurred eyes focused on the beauty around him. He set up camp last night and could only hear, not see, what surrounded him. He was now observing an orange and red luminescent reflection across the landscape. The light was shooting in between the canyon walls before him. I...
Submitted to Contest #313
"Are you there, God? It's me." The silence said he wasn't, so Joe put the phone down after several agonizing minutes. The dream played out in his drained mind after waking up from another unsettled sleep. Joe is walking through a deserted town of tall, brick, empty buildings and vacant lots filled with debris. It is night, the empty, trash-filled streets, with wild animals snarling in dark alleyways and the wind whipping up strange smells, and he heads to a street corner with a phone booth. A street lamp projects a sinister-looking gray ligh...
Submitted to Contest #308
Joe watched as the summer sun reached the world's edge and slowly began to disappear. That orange glow across the sand narrowed and shifted into the ocean while the terns dashed along with it. He had just completed another day working at his tiki bar on the beach and was beginning to cool off with the breeze finally coming off the ocean. He enjoyed this time of day most, sitting on his porch and finding peace. He found this old home for sale. It sat on a road that ran along the beach, with no garage and no upstairs, just a two-bedroom, one-b...
Submitted to Contest #300
The sun blinded his descent. He looked up, the parachute above ballooned over him, reminding him of his mother's wash on the line when he was a kid. The white sheet floated, flapping in the wind, eventually dropping over him, losing his mom, who was still hanging clothes. He looked down; the brown landscape was rapidly approaching, and soon solid ground would be underfoot. The cursed jet and its millions of high-tech secrets were now just a black mushroom of smoke on the horizon. As he drifted down into the unknown, the pilot felt confident...
Submitted to Contest #295
The Traveler Synced at 2:13 PM 100% Joe was a dying breed. He knew it; his friends at the clubhouse knew it, and to drive his ego and masculinity further into the gutter, his wife would remind him of it after he received the divorce papers. He was a writer for a newspaper, The New York Times, to be exact. It was a beautiful Monday, but Joe didn't know it. At age forty-five, he was too young to appreciate the warmth that had finally arrived and too old to ignore his need to outperform and keep his job. Joe looked up at his five-story glass ...
Submitted to Contest #288
The rain pelted the window, making sleeping impossible. I stared up at the ceiling, and under the rhythmic sessions the storm produced above me, I prayed that a pause would come. It didn't matter how long; it was just something that would help convince me that this unyielding pummeling of water had an off button. It made me thirsty. l needed something to drink, so I arose, threw on the tattered robe, and found myself in the kitchen, the trip I knew well, which, in the dark, could be done with my eyes closed. It was the middle of the night, a...
Submitted to Contest #286
Joe's eyes crept open like an old roll-up shade. The phone erupted as he fought to get his sense of direction: another hotel room, another day. Morning confusion. It should never be a part of this never-changing routine of getting out the door. His dreams, however, are becoming more explicit and longer, and sitting at the edge of the bed, Joe runs his head through his long gray hair, pondering the reasons for them always ending just when the alarm goes off. He forced himself to get into the shower, and while the water imitated a rainstorm dr...
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