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Jim Gray

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2024

Stories (7)

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3 Followers

5 Following

7 Stories

177 karma pts

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Caviar and Plombir.

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #270

Ten minutes after he walked through the door of Mama Babushka’s New York restaurant, he’d solved the case. Ash slid the old photo over the table to Mama. “Something tells me you and the body over there have more history than you are letting on, Mama.” He looked at his watch. It was now 2am. A couple of hours ago, Ash was settling down to watch the recorded highlights of the Jets game, a newly cracked bottle of Bud lay on the table in front of his sofa, where he would no doubt fall asleep tonight.He passed out on it most nights. The ones that...

14 likes

Why does milk turn nasty? by Jim, age 5 abd 3/4

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #269

It probably wasn’t magic. Is there really any such thing? But when Jeanie, Sandie and Pegs worked the light, strange things would happen.I was just a six-year-old kid. I knew little or nothing of the occurrences of the Summer of 1940. Not at the time, anyway. There was a war going on, I learned that from the radio and the whispered conversations that adults have around children. Some folk known as the Jerries were angry at the people of Aberdeen for some reason. Each night, they sent aeroplanes to fly over our city and drop bombs. The rubble...

10 likes

Will one and one make two?

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #265

Will one and one make two? Seldom have I been more excited. The anticipation is palpable. I can taste it. Blueberries I think.I love the feeling of meeting the person that could potentially be the one. I know, I know. I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Not before even exchanging the first word, but having been disappointed so many times, revelling in this moment may well be as good as it gets.Oh. That’s my train finally appeared on the main board. Ten minutes to wait now. I can handle that. Jesus, stop biting your bloody nails. I spent so long try...

7 likes

Time After Time

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #243

MondayI love to watch you sleep on a while each morning. When you finally awake, you stretch like a god cat, before wiping the sleep from your eye. This is my favourite part of the day. A moment of peace before we rise and join the others on the hunt. Through our tent door, the last cool of the night slinks away, and the warm of Ra’s beauty knocks loud, insistently calling us both to the service of our Pharaoh, Ramses.This has been our happy life these last seventeen years. Years that I wouldn’t change for all the gold in the great pyramid. ...

9 likes

Do Dinosaurs cry?

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #242

Marjorie was content around dinosaurs. They were as much a mystery as men, she had to admit that to herself, yet Sammy the stegosaurus, the colossus that stood proudly in front of her now, wasn’t going to let her down the way men usually did. Sammy was Marjorie’s name for the beast. She guessed that he had a much more fancy Latin name that the caretakers of London’s Natural History museum used, but what did they know? Sammy he would stay. Sammy and Marjorie had been seeing each other every weekday for three years now. With an hour to kill be...

10 likes

Dear Katrina

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #241

Dear Katrina,Still the black waters. Let the moon set, and the sun rise with you once more. This small barren island holds only three of us now. Three lost souls, caught between warring titans. But on which bank of the Dnieper river does my fate wait, and hate.Sorry that it has been too long since my last letter. This war has brought many shortages and while food and bandages we lack most, the absence of paper and pencil has added to the eternal distance between us. And never has distance been so cruel. For though the void that keeps us...

13 likes

To See Or Not To See

Jim Gray

Submitted to Contest #239

To See or not to see. “What the hell is wrong with this thing today?” Being a struggling writer is hard enough, I’m sure you know well. Some days, words fall out your head like golden leaves in autumn, and on others, life seems to give you cerebral constipation. Actually, I’m not sure that likening the literary art to pumping out faeces really shows my abilities in the best light, but there you go, it’s said now. Once the coveted nature’s beauty, or carpet of poop is spread on the pristine page, you then have ...

6 likes