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Jethro Pili

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2021

Stories (140)

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29 Followers

37 Following

140 Stories

286 karma pts

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Beneath Rosewood

Jethro Pili

Rosewood High School sat like a brick laid flat on the small town of Rosewood, Oregon—sturdy, red, and unsuspicious. There were lockers with chipped paint, mystery meat Thursdays in the cafeteria, and that constant faint smell of bleach and sweat lingering in the gymnasium. It was the most normal school anyone had ever known. But normal is often camouflage. It started with a cough. Not from a student, but from Mr. Reilly, the AP Bio teacher. He was always punctual, stern, and unshakably boring. One day, right in the middle of his lesson abou...

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Avalon, The Isle of Apples

Jethro Pili

I. The Isle That Was There are places that live only in memory, or myth, or in the silvered pages of books so old they crack when opened. Avalon was such a place. The Isle of Apples. The sanctuary of kings. The cradle of enchantment. But before it vanished, it was. Avalon floated like a dream in the western sea, hidden by mists not of weather but of will. An island of soft hills and silver rivers, where the air tasted of honey and wind, and the trees bore fruit in every season. The apples were not just sweet—they healed. They sang. Some said...

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Merlinus Magus the Magnificent

Jethro Pili

The lights at the Fool Us stage blazed to life, sweeping across the velvet curtain as Jonathan Ross’s voice echoed grand and regal: “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves to be amazed! Please welcome… Merlinus Magus the Magnificent!” The audience cheered, unsure whether the name was an ironic gimmick or not. A man in a deep purple tailcoat with a high collar strode onstage, his eyes twinkling behind round spectacles. His beard curled like a wizard’s, and he carried a staff—not a wand, a full-on wizard’s staff, silver inlaid with amethys...

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The Art of the Excuse

Jethro Pili

They called him a LINO. “Leader In Name Only.” It was a running joke in the youth group at New Hope Fellowship. Aaron Shepherd, pastor’s kid, junior in high school, and default scapegoat. When the youth group forgot to pray before the pizza arrived—Aaron got a passive-aggressive text from one of the deacons. When one of the sixth graders had a meltdown after being kept out past midnight on a school night—Aaron’s dad, Pastor Mark Shepherd, got an angry phone call from the boy’s mother demanding to know why the “pastor’s son” didn’t ensur...

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Midnight In Motion (Mick’s POV)

Jethro Pili

I don’t remember the last time I was home before midnight. That’s not even a brag. It’s just the truth. The whole thing started last summer—when my dad grounded me for staying out past curfew with the guys. We were just at the skate park, but he acted like I’d joined a gang. Locked me down for two weeks, no phone, no guitar, no nothing. That’s when I realized something: if I was gonna be treated like a criminal, I might as well have some fun with it. So I started sneaking out. I’d wait till Mom went to bed, then count to 600 in my head. By t...

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The Line Was Too Long

Jethro Pili

CONTENT WARNING: Death, tragedyIt was a late Sunday morning glazed in gray and black.Outside, it rained soft and steady over the town of Bellemere, Virginia, pattering against the windows of Mercy Hill Hospice like a gentle metronome. Inside Room 207, every breath was a battle.Robert Asbury, once a builder of homes and teller of long-winded stories, now lay withered and hollow-chested, each breath pulled in by sheer will. Tuberculosis, in its cruel, final march, had stolen nearly everything from him—his booming voice, his ability to walk, hi...

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The Comedy Clinic

Jethro Pili

THE COMEDY CLINICMotto: “Because laughter is the best medicine, really!”The Comedy Clinic was not a clinic, which caused confusion daily. Its neon sign blinked inconsistently—“THE COMEDY CLI—IC”—so it wasn’t uncommon for people to stumble in expecting a flu shot and leave with a drink, a blistering roast, and a vague sense of betrayal.Nestled between a pawn shop and a psychic who only spoke in limericks, The Comedy Clinic was the city’s only bar where stand-up comedy was mandatory and sobriety optional. The owner, one Dr. Chuckles—real name ...

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Around The World In 80 Days

Jethro Pili

Amy Collins sat at her cubicle, staring at the blinking cursor in an email she had no interest in finishing. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above blended with the muffled clickety-clack of keyboards and hushed conversations. The office smelled faintly of stale coffee and too many repressed dreams.It wasn’t that Amy hated her job. She had once loved it—or at least convinced herself she did. Project management at a mid-sized tech company had its perks: predictable income, health insurance, a good 401(k) match. But over the years, the dail...

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Zero Hour: The Watch Below

Jethro Pili

0400 Hours — Groton, Connecticut Naval Submarine Base New London Pier 6, Berth BravoThe wind off the black ocean bit through fleece and leather and cotton alike. It was that kind of cold that sunk through to your bones—not just physical, but emotional, psychological. It made you reflect. It made you quiet.Six men stood on the pier, their boots clacking softly against the wet concrete, duffel bags slung over their shoulders or dropped at their feet. Not much talking, just a few quiet words here and there. Most of what needed saying had alre...

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The Piper on the Hill

Jethro Pili

The quickening gray light of predawn filtered through the slats of the blinds, turning the cinderblock walls of Room 303 a pale blue. On any other day, Sam Ihle might have slept through it. But not today. A low, reedy wail pierced the stillness, rising and falling in mournful tones. At first, Sam thought it was part of a dream—maybe the background music to a dream he couldn't quite remember. But it got louder. And clearer. Then it hit him. Bagpipes. “Andrew?” he croaked, still half-buried under his comforter. Andrew McBride groaned from ac...

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League of Light

Jethro Pili

The damp cellar stank of mildew and rot. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and the faintest whisper of movement crept just beyond the threshold.Vivienne Braddock steadied her breathing. The scent told her there were three of them — vampires — though one was injured. The coppery sharpness mingled with something faintly bitter, like burned herbs. Wounded, likely feeding on a nearby victim.Vivienne’s grip tightened on her silver-plated knife. Her fingertips brushed the hilt of her broadsword slung across her back, but she’d wa...

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Cabin Conversations

Jethro Pili

The hum of the airplane’s engines filled the cabin, a constant white noise that seemed to encourage sleep. Yet Adam barely noticed it. He adjusted his seatbelt, leaned back slightly, and stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds. A six-hour flight from Boston to Seattle stretched before him, and the prospect of boredom loomed large like a life-threatening tsunami after a devastating 6.4 magnitude earthquake. “You look like you’re dreading this flight as much as I am,” a voice said beside him. Adam turned to see a man...

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Westbound

Jethro Pili

The train rumbled steadily along the tracks, cutting through a landscape of pine trees dusted with snow. Former San Diego PD Detective Christian James sat on the narrow bunk of his sleeper car, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the blurred scenery rushing past the window. He wasn't really seeing the trees, the frozen lakes, or the distant mountain peaks. All he saw was her. All he saw was Abigail. His Abigail. They were out on a call that night. Gang war had erupted in the streets. One of the witnesses, who had seen the shooting ...

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Running Late

Jethro Pili

The San Francisco fog, a perpetual gray blanket, had finally decided to lift, revealing a sliver of a hesitant, pale sun. But Matt and Maggie were oblivious. They were in a frantic, orchestrated chaos, a dance of misplaced keys, forgotten chargers, and a general sense of impending doom.They both lived busy lives. Matt was a tax preparer and CPA, Maggie was a teacher and after-school tutor for at-risk kids. They desperately needed this vacation.“We’re late!” Matt bellowed, his voice echoing down the narrow hallway of their second-floor apartm...

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Transatlantic

Jethro Pili

Dr. Lazaro “Laz” Santa Cruz drummed his fingers against the armrest of his first-class seat, staring out the small oval window as the plane cruised somewhere over the Atlantic. There were clouds above him, clouds beneath him, and clouds around him. Is this how it felt like to be Superman? Or an angel? He was both of those things to the patients and staff of Edenbrook, after all. He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. The hum of the engines filled the cabin, steady and low, almost like white noise. He wasn’t afraid of flying—he’d ...

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