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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020
Submitted to Contest #90
It had stopped raining. The yard, no longer the place we played, gathered acorns, taught Rufus to fetch. It now was a mirror reflecting a sky slashed by lighting, accompanied by the sound of a river in the distance, turned to thunder. It had rained for thirty-two days straight. The calendar on the back of the door displaying the vivid marks of acceptance. The river Green would not let Black Creek, which flowed by our house, escape. It displayed its vengeance by slipping its banks, seeking the freedom a loosed spirit ...
Submitted to Contest #89
“If we hope tomorrow is going to be better than today, does that mean someone was praying the day before yesterday, that today would be better than yesterday?” “Half the time I don’t know what you been smokin. Where does your mind find time to worry about yesterdays, tomorrows, todays? I got a big enough problem worryin about what I might be likin for lunch.” “That’s because you don’t have faith. Faith is a wonderful thing. It washes away the yesterdays, todays, and leaves only tomorrows. There are no mistakes, no sh...
I tried to warn him. I’ve tried ever since I first heard, but they just look at me like I’m tuned to the wrong channel somehow. It was April first. Probably why no one believe me. Who would think about playing a trick like that. Now its May, tomorrow. I know cause it’s his birthday, first husband. Now he listened when I told him things. Really too bad what happened to him. But then they said insanity run in the family. Best start lunch, even though no one but me and the dog eats it. “Hey you!...
I can see him in the window across from me. I’m in my boss’s office on the sixth floor. He’s visiting his friend, Miss Adelphia James. What kind of friends they are is none of my business. The only reason I pay the least bit of attention, is that Bill Rumford Jr, had me killed. “Oh, wait a minute,” I can hear people saying… But it’s true. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, so he got One Eyed Johnny Bishop to do it. He knew Johnny could get close to me. I don’t blame Johnny. I should have se...
I came here today to interview Israel Eichmann. If you know anything about genetic manipulation, you have certainly heard about Mr. Eichmann. He is not only a renowned geneticist, but a wrestling fan, and the only person I know who has spent the last twenty years attempting to organize a professional mud wrestling event. When I heard, what sounded like an absurd story about a man of science being involved with what appears on the surface to be a lark, possibly to distract from the intensity of having been a prominent member o...
Summer in the Midwest, for those of you who have never experienced one, is a combination of heaven and hell. Summers that are smothered with humidity you can walk on, and knowing that this may not be the first day of the rest of your life, but probably the last. When you live in the city you don’t have a lot of choices when it comes to escaping the heat. You have even fewer chances when you are ten years old. Cement ponds are an attempt to squelch the riots that stem from the stress that accompanies, not being able to escape what...
Submitted to Contest #88
“What are you going to bring?” “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and It has to be something not only grand, but interesting as well. Only the finest will be considered. If your offering is accepted, you will be released. Free! Can you believe it, free. I’ve thought what it must be like to be free. Can’t even imagine being able to do what I wanted to do, not what I have to do.” “Being enslaved isn’t that bad. We get taken care of. Food, shelter, don’t really want for much. But ...
When I first became aware of a man they called, “The Bird Man,” I decided it would make an interesting, “Person of the Street,” story. I became aware of this “Bird Man,” from a local tavern owner, who told me about the encounter he had had with the man. I knew I had to meet him. Apparently, he spends his days telling stories to the ravens in the park. He claimed people had witnessed as many as two hundred gathered dutifully about the benched man, listening intently to his tales. I don’t actually work for the local newspaper.&...
“How can you let this travesty of injustice continue? The future of mankind rests in the ability of future generations to improve the lives of citizens of the world, by promoting social and economic issues that will not inhibit, but promote the betterment of mankind. You seem content to sit back and watch while those in power, who seek only more power and the wealth that accompanies it, to continue, no matter the devastating consequences to future generations. And I might add, with no significant consequences to those encouraging...
When he’d walk onto a room, everyone would look away. He had the opposite effect of someone with a magnetic personality. He wasn’t an impossible figure to look upon, nor was he the strong, dashing, mustachioed, swashbuckling, a leading man reminiscent of a Wall Street tycoon. He was simply a person who leaked self-assurance at such an alarming rate, people that lacked adequate health insurance feared crossing his slippery path. That, and you never knew when he yelled fire, if it was a warning or a premonition he was havin...
“Penelope Persimmon began life as a normal child,” an epologuian beginning to many a fireside tale. Many of those who professed to developing Penelope, did so out of a sense of self-aggrandizement. They, in no uncertain terms, were to create a child that would be, all things to all people. A daunting task for any conjurer of fictitious characters. Even more so, when dredged from the annals of humdrum lives that fed off the uncertainty in their own existence. Abel Bennet was not fond of pretending to be something he was no...
Submitted to Contest #87
I sat for a time watching the black hands roam the face of the clock, hoping for the second or minute hand, to jump from sheer boredom. I sometimes believe we do not pay enough attention to time. It is all we have that’s worth anything, despite the lust for money and accrual of things worth thousands, millions, but only if we can find someone that agrees with our assessment of their worth. But time! Ah, time is an entirely different matter. Our lives are ruled by it. We buy it from others, exchange a piece of ourselv...
“Is this really necessary?” her words echoing in my head as I nailed the last board over the door, and made sure the potato gun was loaded. “They are coming for me, I know it. I can feel it in my bones. It’s like a tambourine in my chest chanting a tune I’ve never heard before.” “Why?” “Why, What?” That was a good question. One I might have asked myself had it not been for the tambourine concerto, and the fact I was out of potatoes, and wasn’t sure if apples or oranges would have a similar deterrent effect. It shoul...
It all started the day Benjamin Hooker won the prize for being the best liar in the company. We all were asked to submit tales, we’d either heard, or made up. Ben came up with this tale about how The Twizzle Stick Company, which employed several hundred people making swizzle sticks, for primarily the martini market, and some of the Puerto Rican Rum trade that couldn’t find enough wonderful things to do to rum. We were to be terminated. Ben thought of himself as a fun guy. Now when you describe it that way, it sounds like ...
“She is afraid of spiders.” “Lots of people are afraid of spiders. So what?” “Pranks only work on people who are afraid of things. Like, dying, nuns, spiders! They actually succumb to their own imaginative fear. People don’t act irrationally for the most part, when they like something, but when they don’t. Shove a cookie in someone’s face and they are just going to take a bite, not scream. See what I’m getting at?” “What’ve you got in mind?” That is how it began. She thought she saw a spider and dropped my Chic...
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