Jessie Hartness

“HT Incorporated” by Jessie Hartness

Submitted to Contest #213

The residents took off their blindfolds as soon as they were instructed to do so and allowed their eyes to adjust to the piercing bright atmosphere. Once the realization that they were in the middle of nowhere sat in, two armed security guards led them to a dark-haired man in a crisp suit. His professional attire appeared so out of place in comparison to the arid desert backdrop, that the residents were taken aback. He smiled and appeared oblivious to their discomfort. "Welcome to HT Incorporated, where pure human connection starts!" Immedia...

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“The Clock Tower” by Jessie Hartness

Submitted to Contest #125

Imagine a small London town on a particularly grim day. As you walk the main road you see everything through a silver lens, due to the pelting rain that often accompanies daily life in these parts. Small cars pass, steam trailing behind as the exhaust rendezvous with the chilly air. You try not to look down the alleyways as you pass by, it’s better to not think of what the shadows might conceal. Men in top hats holding umbrellas over women in petticoats enjoy an evening stroll. Some may even say the town is beautiful on nights like these, it...

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“Icy Fingers ” by Jessie Hartness

Submitted to Contest #120

Take a look. No, over there... over where that man is getting into his car to leave for work. That ordinary man, who drives that ordinary car, going to his ordinary nine-to-five. He pets his ordinary dog before he closes the door, tells him to go to the back, and then pushes his garage door remote after he sees the tail pass over the sensor’s reach. He drives away after making sure the ordinary door fully closes. He doesn’t want someone to be able to just walk in now does he? If they did, they might find out he is not an ordinary man in an o...

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“The Golden Cap” by Jessie Hartness

Submitted to Contest #119

“Listen papa, do you hear that?”“Shhh, lass,” after a moment’s silence, “It must be the wind whisperin’ it’s many tales.” Rory Higgins looked over and gave his daughter a playful smile.Aisling looked at her father. He was a strong, tough brute of a man, but he was kind. He told her many stories when they were out at sea. Many involved princesses, warriors, dragons, evil queens, and the like; Rory Higgins was well known for his imagination among his friends. It never went unnoticed to Aisling that the princesses and warriors always resembled ...

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“Living Water” by Jessie Hartness

Submitted to Contest #116

TW: drug use, self-harm, languageAll she knew how to do was run. So she ran. But this time she ran towards the truth, not from it. She ran fast, and she ran hard. Her hair blocked out the sun, causing those behind her to wither and die. Her hands directed the winds, generating a blast of destruction. Her feet trampled the earth, shattering the surface into a million pieces, shards flying behind her as she quickened her pace.She was almost there. She saw that blanket of blue infinity. She kept running. She was so close. As she lunged towards ...

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“Reservation for Three” by Jessie Hartness

Submitted to Contest #115

It was my idea to go out. Things haven’t been quite the same since my husband got his new job. Always on his phone, the few moments I get with him are spaced out “uh-huhs,” and “I’m sorry," as he leaves the room to take a call. He is required to be on call at all times... or so he tells me. So, I requested a date, somewhere you have to make reservations; where there is a table and potential for conversation. After several pleas he agreed, and I made the reservations.  On the way there, the only breaks ...

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“Inside the Crimson Room” by Jessie Hartness

If you’ve come for answers you have come to the wrong place. Clarity was that mangled carcass you passed on your way here, still and bloody on the side of the road. Goosebumps formed and a chill crept into your soul as you considered what that wasted body was before. As you look at me, I imagine the comparisons would be difficult to banish from your conscious thought. The only peace you will find here is a sterile form of existence. What my life was before, I do not know. What my name is, I cannot recollect; names have no purpose here. I do ...

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