Jorge Soto

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2022

Stories (7)

7 Stories

171 karma pts

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“Betokened” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #245

*Pasture of LightIt was the start of a perfect day when the Fisher scanned the western horizon of the island. He sat beneath a tree’s branch, looking up under the vacant stars, and counted constellations while he awaited the slow-to-rise sun. In the early mornings, he recalled the age-old stories of their creation which had been passed down to him by his ancestors. This was his time and place to inherit the sand, so the fantastical details of astrology and meteorology were his alone to safeguard. Suddenly he watched as a fiery blue star fell...

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“Innovation is Afoot” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #243

The rocket was sweating in the Florida heat like a bottle of cola released from an icy cooler. A few hundred, dressed in shorts and vacationer wear, watched from a distant dirt lot. Set in rows along the silver bleachers, their prim shaded gazes reflected a pale imitation of the clear blue sky above them. The televisions and screens around the world watched in suspended awe, as an invisible voice by the slick giant announced a string of monotone brevities to the busy platform before takeoff. On a summer street corner in a far city, a cr...

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“The Great Drying ” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #233

Rain poured, children played, women fell, and men cried. It had been 32 days of dry air and 32 nights of bone-powdered ground since the rain had ceased.In the first seven days of the drought, few heeded the warnings, and fewer cared to hear them. Cars drove from parking space to parking space, erupting spurts of gas as they bumbled angrily down their black trails. A policy of overuse had become commonplace among the modern community during its short, abundantly prosperous epoch. How could a resource so seemingly infinite become sparse? ...

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“A Royal Hall's Night” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #230

The Dutchess came whirling around the kitchen table with a plate in hand. She slid her slender frame gracefully between the two already seated members of the fort, setting the glass plate down on some pillowed furniture in front of her. She brushed some fallen crumbs rapidly off of the prized victorian cushions, which were fashioned into a makeshift flooring for the palace. “The tea will just be a moment darlings, then we’re all set.” She reported, while simultaneously tussling the coffee brown curls of the young princess by her side. T...

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“The Humming Cicada” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #224

“I can’t sleep.”The man tossed around under the sheets, tried every segment of his pillow, and contorted his body to several adventurous yoga shapes in an effort to quell the restlessness.Finally, he called it. Looking at his watch to determine the precise time of death, it read: 1:42 AM. The fight was over, so like other nights, he retreated onto his back with his hands folded over his chest, looking at the ceiling blankly. Now in his 5th year of living alone, he had taken to the habit of occasionally talking to himself. If a thought v...

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“Burning the Midnight Oil” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #223

“Smack” The book was folded closed without marking the page. Another was grabbed and opened. The volumes on the table were stacked like a pile of fresh pancakes. People always picture scholars sitting there in a dim library with a stack of books, and although it’s almost exactly what the reality looks like for those pursuing law, the method of how these books became stacked differs entirely from what one might expect. The 25 year old graduate stufent named Anthony, couldn’t seem to find the exact case and year of a certain trial he was meani...

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“Canned People” by Jorge Soto

Submitted to Contest #209

The bus was screaming down the desert road, and I still couldn’t nod off. Two fucking hours and somehow this greyhound seems to have made no progress toward any discernible civilization. A few shacks and shanty gas stations sprung up here and there, sure, but I’d hardly venture to call them signs of life. Just as I was about to put in for another crick-necked nap a wall of little buildings flashed past the window. Finally. Some scenery.” I thoughtA blurry mirage of washed-out yellows and earth tones made up the majority of this dilapidated s...

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Author bio

Rudyard Kipling fanboy.