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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020
Submitted to Contest #99
“Well, do you?”“No, I try not to remember, it is easier that way.”“Do you remember the time we went off seeking to be lost? Escape the implied pressures; jobs, family, us?”I did remember, but couldn’t, no, didn’t want to admit that the past makes me nostalgic for something that may never have existed, except in my mind.“Yes, I remember falling up.”“Falling up? What does that mean?”It is a feeling. We take memories from our past and purposely embellish or detract from their reality to make them acceptable for our needs. Th...
“Where are we to go? Every year it becomes the question I fear, as there is no agreeable destination. Planning has a way of destroying the very thing you wish to accomplish. Spontaneity is one way to invoke the intended hope of something poignant, interesting, different than last year, or the year before that…but it always seems to end with having forgot something. Or something happening you hadn’t anticipated, which of course you would have had, had it not been for the newly acquired spontaneity. Then there is the c...
I remember a time when they lied to us, of course they did. Lying is part of their persona. It tells us in not-so-subtle ways, that we are not intelligent enough to understand the diverse problems they are forced to deal with, on our behalf. I can understand that rationale, even if I don’t agree with it. Arrogance and assumptions make good bed fellows, if you are stuck in Alaska in an igloo with your worst enemy, and survival has become your shared goal.But things have changed, but then they always do. Somewhere in t...
Standing on the sand, fresh, a new beginning, knowing that no matter what trespasses on the day, it will be different tomorrow. Wiped clean by the tide of a new day, the imprints of a previous time, only a memory of those who left them. We stand watching as the ocean has ceased to roll as it once did. It no longer brings in the hope and promise it once did, now, it brings only questions, when answers are what we crave, need.I marvel at the lavender colored sky. The future not bright enough to burn off the disappointment t...
I had never met Abernathy Holcomb. I had registered the usual assortment of ancillary references, rather statements, that he was either a genius or and idiot. Having been taught to differ judgement until having at least tasted the soup, I put the lid back on, and reserved the right to judgement for a later time.As life often does, it provides the means necessary to take a stab at fulfilling the improvisational requirements we set for ourselves. I am introduced to Abernathy, who seems at the time, either concerned with the worl...
Submitted to Contest #98
“You can’t go home again? What does that mean? I know about the esoteric meaning, and all the nonsense that goes with it, but you can’t go home again, sounds like a…I don’t know what, but ominous when you think about it.” “And why would that be? I can see circumstances where you couldn’t go home, or not want to. I’ve had more than my share of times like that. But those are usually a temporary stalling mechanism until you can decide if it is safe to show yourself.” “So you were afraid of something?” “It was noth...
“I had the most incredible dream. It was one of those dreams, or whatever you wish to call it, that is so real, you find yourself questioning the genuineness of the dream itself. That ever happen to you?” He just sat there. Didn’t say a word. Just stared at the floor as if he were expecting it to disappear, or move or something. I began to become worried, as that was not like him at all. He usually is conversive, even at times when you wish he’d just shut up and be quiet. I wasn't really seeking conversatio...
I knew a guy once; his name was Nick Rivers. He showed me a story that I didn’t believe at the time, but it helped fill the space I found myself in. Thinking back to that day, I can see where I was, and where he was coming from, what he was attempting to tell me by his silence: I was living at the time along the Salmon River. It is a place as far from reality as I could get. I guess using the word living, would be a stretch. I was existing, escaping, all the imperfectness of a world I had nothing to do with creating,...
Have you ever felt as though the sun is setting, and it is setting on you. They tell me it is depression, but I don’t know that I believe everything they tell me, they have agendas. I have an agenda as well, but I doubt it is compatible with theirs. I have tried explaining my feelings. I am under a spell cast on all those that were born at a particular time, under a particular planet alignment, but they tell me that is just an excuse for my feelings of inadequacy, my lack of self-esteem. I wasn’t even aware I had any...
“I thought you told me he came from Poland.” “No, Austria technically. They were close, and when he moved to a part of town primarily inhabited by Polish immigrants, he went with the flow, easier, safer. His village was close to the border, they spoke the same language, easy default.” “Yes, but then it was not true. Claiming to be from one country when you are from another, seems fraudulent. Why couldn’t he just say he was from Austria?” “I don’t see what difference it makes. Where you are from, should have nothing t...
Submitted to Contest #97
All the overly stated cautions come to mind when your eyes first see the vacant opening in the door, and its shattered remains scattered about the floor. Burglary, vandals, fear, anger, the violation of our sanctity, all the emotional upheaval we experience, and yet there is no solid evidence to back up any of our initial assumptions. The cause for the condition of the door, and the glass pane that once was, and is no more, manages our immediate response.I can only assume it is the shock of the change in normalcy, that brings...
A window of opportunity. What is a window of opportunity, if not the possibility of becoming someone we are not. Someone we wish to become, or something we wish to change, anything different really.Hershel Watts was a person, average by his own estimate, looking for neither fame nor fortune, not that either would be dismissed for cause. He just needed a change. Life had become, the walking exercise tour in the gymnasium on Tuesday mornings, accompanied by swimming aerobics on Fridays and of all things, Interdenominational...
There is something about the rain knocking on your window in the black of night. As I peer through the glass, droplets streaming down its invisible surface, give me a sense of being in that place where life has stopped, the world is standing chastised in the corner. All cares and worry have been washed away. Each drop sliding down the glass carrying with it…? You know that lyric, “Take the dark out of the night time and paint the day time black.” Some nights feel like that. But when you take out the dark, what’s left...
“Step this way. For just a mere pittance, you will experience the mystery of the Orient, the secrets of the Universe, the truth about…” A small car of figures dressed in outlandish clothing, their faces emboldened with accentuated expressions, sped past to the sounds of bulbus horns and laughter. I didn’t hear the prophetic end to his proclamation about discovering anything, and everything, you’d ever considered experiencing. I had to insert words and meaning suitable for the occasion. It didn’t matter. I didn’t have a ...
There was this sound. The kind of sound you hear when asleep. Your mind takes that sound and turn it into a dream. I don’t normally remember my dreams. Most people I’m told, don’t remember their dreams either. That is why I guess this dream must have some significance. It must have a meaning, but I can’t figure out what it is. The sound I remember, and most of the dream, some of the dream. It was a tapping sound, as if coming from under water. Or that thumping sound when you are testing a melon, by ta...
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