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Joe Swanson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020

Stories (284)

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260 Followers

1 Following

284 Stories

4017 karma pts

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Deadly Sweet

Joe Swanson

I have begun to feel more like Howard Hughes must have felt near the end; the walls closing in, the floor turning to a vile swamp, and the air no longer fit for a raven to breathe. I suspect it has something to do with Valentines Day, or Sweet Tooth Monday. I remember making valentines when in school. Cutting hearts from construction paper, writing something insanely stupid in my best handwriting, and taping a sticky sucker to it. We had valentine boxes at school...

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A Heart Made of Faded Cardboard

Joe Swanson

“I found this box in the basement when I was cleaning out some junk to make room for my…well, it doesn’t really matter. Let’s just call it therapy if we need find a reason for everything. I don’t remember it being there the last time I cleaned. Seems like the kind of box I’d remember. Do you remember any box that you or someone might have stashed in the basement?” “What kind of box?” “ It is a box shaped like a heart. Like a candy...

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Do You Mind

Joe Swanson

“Do you mind? I just need to pop in here for a minute. You are welcome to come with me. This won’t take long and I hate to leave you here on the street in the cold while I’m inside where it’s warm. Come along. It won’t take but a minute.” I had no interest in entering a confectionary store. I have diabetes and am also susceptible to things that can kill me. I most times avoid the possibility of being tempted beyond my ability to decline, but I’ve been known to...

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Hey! Remember Me?

Joe Swanson

Hey! Remember me? I have to wonder sometimes. I used to go to the park, sit on a bench and watch the ducks go by. When there were no ducks, I’d talk to you. Rememberin me now? I’m the guy who used to talk to you when I was younger about we bein so poor that I had only one boot. Had to share with my brother. I used to try to offer up the pain, frozen feet, fingers, ears, or some kind of thermia they called it, when you start to shake, and can’t quit til someone slaps you with a h...

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My Move, Our Move

Joe Swanson

It seemed like the end of my world when they first mentioned the necessity of leaving. I understand, it’s just that when you’ve spent your entire life in a place, with people you know, starting over is beginning a life I am not prepared for. My environment has dictated who I am, what I do, what my plans are; it makes decisions for me. I am not different from others that are forced to leave, what we lose may appear to be different, but our loss is the same. &nb...

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Bogu?

Joe Swanson

Are You there Bogu…? I know I’ve asked before, but this time I’d appreciate an answer. Are You there Bogu? All of Your signs I admit are wrapped in a sense of irony, if I understand then correctly, but what I need now is direction. It is not that I’m at a fork in the road, I’m way past that. Forks are fine for Irish poets, or those who live on Walden Pond, but I’m neither. I just got off a boat, which was supposed to be my...

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Potato...Po-ta-to

Joe Swanson

Love has an affect on people, it allows them dismiss the obvious while pondering the impossible, or perhaps just the unlikely. The understanding, or illusions of reality necessary to circumvent conflict are often underestimated, as purveyors of faith have a unique ability to lie to themselves so believably, it is impossible to question their sincerity, only their ability to reason. “It says, right here…look, God created the heavens and earth and on the…” “You do reali...

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Happenstance, or Evolution?

Joe Swanson

You know how it is when you feel yourself growing out of something; like when you were a kid and your pants seemed to have shrunk when you weren’t looking. That’s how I been feeling of late. Can’t figure out if it’s because I’m growing out of something, or into it. It’s not the first time I’ve had to wrestle with myself over this issue. The problem is, In my dreams, I always wake up or change the subject before I find an answer. It is not like what’s right or wrong, good or b...

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The Congregation

Joe Swanson

“Brothers and Sisters, Sisters and Brothers,” his anticipated greeting to the assembled. The cadence, the projectory, now a drone that had been dampened by age. He was tired, he was bored, a lifetime of promising hope. He awoke every morning for the past several years feeling he had failed to deliver on the promises he expected himself to deliver. “We are gathered here today during this time of renewal, Spring, Easter, rebirth, rejuvenation, anticipation…” and then ev...

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The Drawing Room

Joe Swanson

“Would anyone care to talk about your experience on Goat Island? Don’t everyone volunteer at once. We discussed this before we went. You were to sketch, scribble, whatever way you chose, depending upon talent that you possess, to describe, record, the impact the environment of the island had on you. Anyone like to step up and show us what you experienced?” As straightforward as the requested assignment was, they all espoused a similar reluctant response.&n...

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Twilight

Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #131

The light was not good. It never is in late afternoon before the street lamps come on, and the darkness has exposed its intention. The last remnants of the day left to debate their departure. I sit on a bench that overlooks the pond. The sunset, when one is realized, snared by the pool, divided into prisms of promise, and sent into the darkness, escape. It was on just such an evening that I noticed him, her, it, for the first time. Normally people avoid the park ...

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Ducks in a Row

Joe Swanson

Being in a crowd gives one a sense of anonymity, or the possibility of one. Hiding in plain sight is usually successful unless someone is looking for you, or circumstance shines that light on you. It was what happened that day. I cannot say I was hiding, or that she was looking for me, but either way, the light did shine on me. Like most people trapped by circumstance, crowds, trains, buses, I pull my shell around me, keep my eyes occupied with the character of the floor, and for...

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Nameless

Joe Swanson

“Hey, You!” “Who… Me?” “Who’d you think I was talking to. See anyone else around?” “You want to see me around? What does that mean?” “What are you talking about? Are you hard of hearing?” This exchange went on for quite some time. I sat under a tree by the bus stop waiting to see if an altercation would ensue. Escalation, because of uncertainty, has become a new normal that we have...

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Innocuity Takes Many Forms

Joe Swanson

“You remember that Vonnegut book about making everyone equal, so as not to make anyone feel inferior? Had nothing to do with talent or ones inclination to work hard to achieve whatever one believed to be your calling. It had to do with digressing, not progressing. Do you realize if we were all the same, how boring life and those in the parade would be? And that is what this new edict is really all about, an effort to distill the political and social split between peopl...

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Lou

Joe Swanson

“Look at this! Someone must have lost a bag of clothes or just got tired of haulin them around. Clothes all over the street. Look here! A shirt with a name printed on the inside of the collar, Lou. People still write their names on their clothes? Why? Someone runnin around stealin clothes off the line or out of your closet when you ain’t lookin? Do you put your name on things? Whatcha think, someone goin to find something with the name Abe on it and know who Abe is? Man, I...

2 likes