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Jethro Pili

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2021

Stories (161)

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30 Followers

41 Following

161 Stories

299 karma pts

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The Angel of Sunset Boulevard

Jethro Pili

"For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?"— Matthew 16:26 Los Angeles in 1925 was no place for the faint of heart. It was a city of mirages, painted desert backdrops, and endless opportunity—provided you were willing to play by rules no one ever wrote down and to pay prices no one ever mentioned.Celia Hart had been in the city for eighteen months, and she still hadn’t made it past playing “third flapper from the left” or “girl in the crowd.” H...

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Six Months in the Dark

Jethro Pili

Petty Officer Brent Young stepped out into the sunshine.It was like hitting a wall made of light and fire. Six months underwater had turned his skin pale, his eyes sensitive, and his soul a little darker. The sky—obnoxiously bright and impossibly blue—offended him. He shielded his eyes, squinted, bared his teeth, and hissed like a vampire climbing out of a crypt.“Whoa!” laughed Gonzalez behind him, emerging next from the sub’s hatch. “We got a Dracula over here!”“You alright, Young?” piped up Henders, already halfway down the gangplank. “Sho...

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Back to the Now

Jethro Pili

The buzzing started faintly.Not the buzz of an iPhone. No vibration alert from a smartwatch. Not even the chime of some sleek Bluetooth speaker.No—this was the sound of a plastic-encased alarm clock, red digital numbers blinking 7:00 AM, ticking over to life with the screech of a radio trying to tune itself through static.“—and that was Ace of Base with The Sign! Coming up next—Alanis Morissette, and later, some classic Friends trivia before the school bell rings, kids!”Nate blinked. His eyelids felt like they were covered in molasses. His f...

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Hidden Hollow

Jethro Pili

Nestled at the edge of an ancient forest that never appeared on any map, surrounded by misty hills and veiled by forgotten magics, lay the town of Hidden Hollow. Travelers rarely stumbled upon it. Those who did claimed their GPS glitched or that the road seemed to unfold rather than appear. If they stayed a night at the town’s quaint B&B and pub, they usually left with the distinct impression of a dream half-remembered.And that was exactly how the residents of Hidden Hollow liked it. 1. The B&B and the Exiled PrinceThe heart of th...

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Many Summers Ago At Innside-Out

Jethro Pili

Sam Ihle sat on the front porch of the Oldtown Brownstones, a cold bottle of ginger beer in one hand and a distant, nostalgic look in his bespectacled eyes. The early evening sun splashed the sidewalk in amber, and the scent of grilled onions wafted from a neighbor’s window. It was one of those golden June evenings where the past tiptoed in, warm and unexpected.Inside, through the screen door, Jodie could be heard folding laundry and humming an old Dusty Springfield tune. The twins, Clark and Kara, were already down for their nap, and the si...

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The Seabrook Marathon Afterparty

Jethro Pili

Sunlight shimmered on the freshly chalked finish line of the Seabrook Marathon. Every June, the little coastal town woke up early, laced up its running shoes, and pounded the pavement—for charity, for pride, for the joy of tradition. But while the marathon brought out the determined and the athletic, it was the Afterparty that stole the show.Set up along the pier, with carnival games, raffles, brunch tents, and more fried food than any nutritionist would condone, the Afterparty was a celebration of community, sweat, and serotonin.“Burn all t...

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The Tower Test

Jethro Pili

I. The Benevolence of OrderThe Tower cast a long shadow over the city, like a judge's gavel about to drop. Tower City, the last civilized bastion in a wasteland of ruins and sand, was ruled by Chancellor Magnus—our so-called Benevolent Dictator. “Benevolent,” they taught us, because he saved our ancestors from chaos. “Benevolent,” because he gave us laws, food, safety. And most of all, order.But no one ever forgot the price of that order.Every spring, when the blue banners fluttered and the exams were administered, the entire city paused. Ch...

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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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