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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2023
Submitted to Contest #205
I was fourteen years old when I first went to a brothel. The name of the place is still etched in my memory: The Crowing Cock. I vividly recall the growing anxiety that consumed me as we drove to the place at two in the morning after a party. I wasn’t anxious because I was underage. It also had nothing to do with our drunkenness, or with the fact that I was still a virgin. It was something else. There were four people in the car that night, all older than me. My cousin Mike was nineteen, while Pedro and Doug were eighteen. They had exp...
Submitted to Contest #199
I truly hope insomnia never gets to you, my friend. But if it does happen, I hope it's just every now and then, not regularly, like a few days out of every fucking week—as it does for me. The doc said it was probably “stress-related”. Well, maybe he was right—if anyone could get stressed because of boredom. Please allow me to clarify. Not all aspects of my life are dull. But the problem is that my work does an excellent job of tipping the scales disproportionately towards boredom. It’s so boring that I'll refrain from telling you what ...
Submitted to Contest #197
I gently caressed the calluses in my right hand, lost in thought. The sun at its zenith, like a golden stain in a stark blue sky, scorched my tanned skin, while rivers of sweat ran down my body from head to toe, leaving me sticky and salty and stinky, and then I looked at the hoe standing before me, and then at the field beyond—to be weeded—until I laid eyes on my father, with his weathered but strong hands tightly gripping the wooden handle of his hoe and deliberately swinging and striking the soil below, sweat beads on his wrinkled face, c...
Submitted to Contest #196
It was supposed to be just another ordinary school day, like many others. But she had to break the balance. That petite, infuriating, beautiful idiot.I still remember the day our eyes first met. She was thirteen and a new face in the city. I was fifteen, born and raised in the area. It was the first day of school. She entered the bus, then slowly made her way to the back, where a few empty seats were available. As she walked, her sight seemed fixed on the floor, as if afraid to look, even briefly, other people. Too shy, I thought. Her cheeks...
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