Joe Swanson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020

Stories (283)

283 Stories

4006 karma pts

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“Good for Nothing” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #66

           Good For Nothing “Come down from there you fool.” “I’m not a fool. I’m prognostic.” “Do you even know what prognostic means?” “Listen, I’ve been around a while and It doesn’t matter if I know what something means or not. Sometimes, most times, better if I don’t know. Making things up, has more upsides than down. Ever tell you about Harry Holden. He was quite the character. He believed the truth was the absence of a lie. I tried to talk him ...

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“A Play, On Words” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #65

                A Play, On Words  Camilla: “It was a dark and rainy night, or would stormy work better?” “You aren’t planning on using that tired old cliché to begin with, are you? Our play is supposed to be about peoples ideologies and relationships, and we ain’t the Walton’s, if you know what I mean.” “What you all laughing at. I know who the Walton’s were. They lived on the lane, just down the road from the old hanging ...

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“Stereotypical Introspection” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #65

Stereotypical Introspection “Howard!” “What?” “You going out tonight?” “NO!” “Why not?” They ask the same question every year, and I give them the same answer. What is so special about this one night? Does one day or night, a week, month, year, century, really make a difference, after you are dead? Faces change, people fear differing things, but fear doesn’t drastically change the emotion elicited, or the reaction invoked. Take Jeremy for instance. He is one of those wanting to know, why I don’t care about going out tonigh...

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“NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #65

Letter to:                                            Next-Door Neighbor Mr. Bellamy     Like any street in my town, your town, it is your town too I suppose, being that you pretend to live here. It is a nondescript place I suppose, a speck in the universe, and yet, it is my speck. I came here by accid...

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“Second Row” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #65

Second Row “Just down there.” “Thank You.” I try and get out here at least once a year just to see how things are going. I used to come more often, but Morris has not aged historically well. I should explain. He died nine years ago today, October 31st.  At first, I found his reluctance to accept the fact that he was dead, as his way of apologizing, for leaving me. I attempted to relieve his anxiety by explaining I was doing just fine, and he needn’t worry. I thought he accepted my explanation, but I’ve come t...

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“Gothic Manner” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #64

Gothic Manner “Oh, you said manor, I thought you meant manner. I got the Gothic; the manor threw me. So you’d like to buy a Gothic manor?” “Is that a problem? You know, I’m not exactly sure what he meant by manor. He won a lot of money and turned into a jerk. He used to be an OK guy, but since he got more money than God, he’s changed.  Well you know George, don’t you? It all started when we were arguing about wasting money on lottery tickets. I told him the chance of winning was millions to one.&nbs...

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“God's School” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #64

God’s School                                  1800 words “You ready?” “Be right there.” I spent the day getting ready to leave one life behind, and move on to another life ahead. I know there is no choice. My grandmother is too ill to look after us. She can hardly take care of herself. I have no other relatives and I’m not old ...

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“Out of the Frying Pan” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #64

Out of the Frying Pan “Give me your hand.”  “Fire!” the words slipping from my dream, leaving one eternity for another. I don’t know what I was thinking, perhaps I wasn’t. Sometimes we do things with no concern for our own safety. Most often though, we recognize the danger involved in an act, and take a few minutes to weigh the consequences. It is that time, that few seconds, minutes, hours, sometimes days, even weeks, that we place our internal debate, where anyone walking down the street, can see it. They can see...

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“Mother Mary” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #64

Mother Mary 2200 words     Janet spent the week revisiting a past she could barely remember, filling in the blanks with the knowledge gained from being wrong. Her decisions were not made without trepidation, the knowledge that choices had consequences. She debated the intricacies of right and wrong, and the repercussions of becoming paralyzed by indecision. It was a fear her father taught, that was insidious.  It crept into your being, slow...

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“The Ghost of Walton Manner” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #64

Ghost of Walton Manner 2000 Words “Why are we here?” “I told you I have to go to London on business. Your father you know, is on the U.S.S. Pentecost. So I’ve decided that you will stay here at Walton Manner. You know Ms. Dementia. She was that friend of your Aunt Jaundice.” “Not the woman with the green hair, and those eyes that looked like they are going to fall out.” “Now, let’s be nice. She, I give you, is a bit eccentric, but she is very accomplished. She has turne...

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“Apple-gate” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #63

Joe Swanson                                                                     1056 Words Eugene Or. 97401 joebswanson@hotmail.com Apple-Gate Apple-gate “You ever see that movie about...

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“Fires Inn; The Mind” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #63

              Fires Inn; The Mind     “By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Do you think that is a strange way to answer a question I proposed to my class about life?”     “I guess if I had to be truthful, and I always am, as lies as you know, are nothing more than an attempt to win an argument with yourself.  I’d say it was a pertinent question, and promotes a revealing answer.”    &nb...

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“When, If Not Now” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #62

When, If Not Now “What are you doing?” Always a question that is something someone asks, when they don’t quite know how or what to say. It is more a matter of acceptance, as much as it is a search for an explanation. Seeing is believing, but is it.  Blowing into a plastic bag, placing a twisty around its gathered top, creating a misshaped balloon. Droplets of moisture sliding down the plastics interior as the bag is held to the light of the window, the trapped air remaining subservient to gravity. “I asked you if...

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