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Jon Meadow

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

46 karma pts

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This Is A Deck

Jon Meadow

It's not the floor. This is the overhead, not the ceiling. This is a bulkhead, not a wall. The instructor had never been to sea; was in the Navy but never actually sailed. Got the job at the school without really wanting it. Was just driving through Tall Timbers, stopped for oysters; noticed the school. A guard had him sign in. As he drove through the campus, trainees were marching in formation. "Sound off! "One-two-three-four." "Sound off"! "I want to be a merchant sailor. Live a life of fun and danger. I want to be a millionaire. Live...

0 likes

W.A.R.

Jon Meadow

It's in a part of the state where most people are not from, and most don't live there, but return again and again. Why that guy is always seen going into town on a bicycle is anyone's guess. People from California have seen him years apart; he's become part of the scenery. So much so, that for those who are local, born and raised, and more possessive of the area than they can reason find reason to not like him; he's not a logger. Even though people have used the so-called "N" word so often, he continues to frequent a doughnut shop. He jokes,...

0 likes

A Copy of a Copy of a Poorly Copied Copy

Jon Meadow

Submitted to Contest #101

The comptroller at the Union's Plans office was raised Christian, had graduated from Maryland State, and had the faith of a child in all things American. His accounting expertise landed him a job in Ann Arundel county, across the water from Easton: his most favorite town on the Western shore. He was all set up to live a good life, and had begun to do so. Accountability is the responsibility of accounting, but counting on accountants to be accountable bore upon him a contradiction in terms, both in law and fact. The union was required by la...

10 likes

Bread Breaking

Jon Meadow

Submitted to Contest #100

The wheat berries are beginning to sprout. He's talking to himself because there is no one, not even a pet that lives with him. His slum dwelling of a house is what it is because when scavengers took the best and trashed the rest, they left a war-zone ambiance, long neglected since his heart hasn't been there; years have gone by without cleaning up after mice/rats and bats, or dealing with a street gang from California that's encroaching on the property line. It borders a dead end road that's twenty-six miles from the closest town with free ...

15 likes