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Jethro Pili

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2021

Stories (154)

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29 Followers

41 Following

154 Stories

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The Nocturne of Corvus Black

Jethro Pili

Corvus Black was not his real name.His birth certificate said “Elliot Greene,” a name too pale and pedestrian for the kind of stories he wrote. Under the name “Corvus Black,” his words sold by the thousands, sometimes millions. His books—leatherbound, blood-inked things—lurked on the shelves of indie occult shops, on the nightstands of disenchanted teenagers, and under the beds of people who swore they didn’t believe in ghosts.Corvus Black was a brand. A mask. A shrine. And no one ever saw him in the day.He lived in a narrow Victorian...

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The Wordsmith’s Forge

Jethro Pili

For the sixteen aspiring writers gathered at The Pines Writing Retreat, the week promised more than crisp mountain air and coffee strong enough to stun a charging bear. They came from New England, New York City, even Canada—drawn by one name:Professor Philip Leavenworth.A former science and tech writer for the Seabrook Viking News, Leavenworth had, in his early days, penned exposés on everything from municipal AI experiments gone rogue to defense contractors testing neural implants in soldiers. But he became famous—infamous—when he shifted t...

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Upper Hand by Heather L. Knightly

Jethro Pili

1. The PseudonymThe name on the manuscript cover read Upper Hand by Heather L. Knightly—a name that didn’t exist six months ago.Jodie Williams, political reporter for The Seabrook Viking News, adjusted her tortoiseshell glasses as she stared at the galleys on her desk. She’d written countless articles—on voter suppression, intelligence leaks, Capitol Hill scandals—but nothing quite like this. Nothing fictional. Nothing this… charged.Her husband Sam Ihle peered over her shoulder, eyes twinkling behind his Clark Kent glasses. “You know, if any...

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The Final Hour

Jethro Pili

Rain tapped against the windowpane like a metronome set to stress. Sam Ihle rubbed his temples, staring at the blinking cursor on the nearly blank Word document on his laptop screen. Two paragraphs. That was all he had to show for three hours of writing. And his feature story—a deep-dive into the mayor’s controversial zoning decision—was due in four.Editor-in-chief Patrick “Pat” McKean’s last message sat unread in Sam’s inbox, a thundercloud waiting to burst. Pat: “Need it by 4pm. We’ve held the whole front page. Don’t make me regret it...

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I Didn’t Have A Choice

Jethro Pili

May 4, 1864Camp near the Rapidan River, Virginia The rain fell hard this morning. It came not in sheets, but in sharp needles, stabbing the canvas of my tent and waking me before the bugler’s call. I sat upright on my cot, heart pounding as though the drops had been bullets. For a moment I thought I was back at Stones River, watching Private Kessler’s head snap back under fire. But it was just the storm.I lit a lantern and took to my journal. I have always written more on days like this, when the weather claws at the skin and the war scr...

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The Captain Who Jumped Ship

Jethro Pili

Captain Victor Harrow stood on the bridge of the SS Erebos, his gloved hands gripping the mahogany railing so tightly his knuckles whitened beneath the worn leather. Waves crashed against the iron hull, sending freezing spray over the deck. The moonlight fought against the heavy clouds, casting fleeting silver shadows over the chaos below.His officers shouted orders, sailors scrambled with ropes and lifeboats, and the steam whistle howled in mournful desperation. The Erebos was sinking.Victor's mind raced. The reef had come out of nowhere — ...

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The Constrictor

Jethro Pili

Julio Vasquez stared at the half-finished comic book page on his drafting table, his pencil hovering just above the panel. The newsroom at the Seabrook Viking News buzzed around him—phones ringing, keyboards clattering, and voices rising and falling in hurried conversations. But Julio was lost in his own world, a world of heroes, villains, and the thin, delicate line between them.He had always loved superheroes. As a kid, they were an escape—a colorful world where good fought evil, and the lines between them were clear. But now, as an adult ...

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I Sold My Soul To The Devil

Jethro Pili

Ethan Blake stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of Langston, Crane, and Delaney, the city skyline stretching out beneath him like a glittering sea of light. At thirty-four, he was a rising star—“the shark in a suit,” his colleagues teased. Clients loved his razor-sharp mind, his relentless work ethic, and his talent for turning hopeless cases into victories.But tonight, as he looked out at the city, he felt nothing but a cold emptiness gnawing at his chest.Behind him, his senior partner, Charles Crane, lounged in his leather chair, swi...

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Half the Rent, All the Terror

Jethro Pili

Rent in SoHo was demonic. Not in the cutesy “New York is hell” kind of way, but in the very real, very soul-devouring sense. Isabel Navarro had been living off boxed mac and cheese and dreams since her last roommate moved out—lured away by a boyfriend with a brownstone in Park Slope and a working dishwasher. Traitor.Isabel, a 29-year-old social media manager by day and wine mom-in-training by night, had done the math six times. She couldn’t swing the place solo. Not with rent going up another $450 next month. So she did the unthinkable. She ...

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The Slap Heard ‘Round the Cookout

Jethro Pili

For the Thompsons, Independence Day was sacred. Not for the usual reasons—flag-waving patriotism, backyard fireworks, or Uncle Jack’s annual recitation of the Declaration of Independence after two hard lemonades. No, for the Thompsons, the Fourth of July was about one thing: the Cookout. They were always the talk of the town, in a good way, of course.Cheryl Thompson had been planning it for months—Pinterest boards, color-coded RSVPs, a new gas grill that glistened like a Bentley. Her husband, Doug, had been assigned simpler tasks: “Don’t bur...

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Fire in the Desert Sand

Jethro Pili

The desert wind howled low and mournful over the forward operating base, hurling dust against the battered concrete barriers like ghostly fists. Corporal Luke Parrish knelt behind the Hesco walls, clutching his Bible like a lifeline. His squad was on night patrol rotation again, and the evening brought no solace—only silence, sweat, and a loneliness that gnawed deeper than the sandstorms.Luke had grown up in a tiny town in Missouri where the local church sat at the center of life, both spiritual and social. His family prayed together before ...

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A Dream Come True

Jethro Pili

Edward Yu wasn’t used to taking vacations.Not because he didn’t want to — he did — but because when you’re the CFO of one of the fastest-growing tech companies in America, vacations tended to look like missed opportunities, lost momentum, or worse, slipping behind.He lived in numbers, schedules, charts, and margins. His family, on the other hand, lived in hope.For months, Stephen (15), Scarlett (13), Esther (10), and little Edmund (8) had begged for one thing if they aced their finals: a trip to Disneyland.They hadn’t just aced their finals ...

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I Got Lost & Ended Up In Henderson

Jethro Pili

When Evan and Marissa Bellows woke up on the second Saturday of March, the plan was simple: drive to Los Angeles, meet with their tax preparer, sign some forms, and be home before dinner. Tax season was always a headache for both of them, as it was for the rest of the country, so they were very grateful for their tax preparer. They lived in San Bernardino, an easy hour just east of LA if the traffic gods were merciful — which they rarely were — but it was still doable. They had made the appointment a month ago, neatly written on their kitche...

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Wexbridge Manor

Jethro Pili

The carriage wheels crunched over the gravel drive, the sound like a thousand tiny bones breaking underfoot. Inside, the newly-minted Duchess Eleanor of Wexbridge smoothed the folds of her traveling gown and peered out the window as the vast estate unfurled before her eyes.Her new home.A gust of wind sent the banners atop the stone turrets flapping furiously, each one bearing the Duke’s crest—a rampant lion and a ring of thorns. The building itself loomed, older than she had expected, grand but worn, as if the centuries weighed upon its very...

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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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