Kathy Haaga

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2024

Stories (4)

4 Stories

60 karma pts

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“ZOO GNUS” by Kathy Haaga

Submitted to Contest #254

Dear Voracious Fellow Primates, Several events of the utmost interest have come to this writer’s attention. Given that your appetites seem never to be sated, shall I share them here, or leave it to you to ferret them out? Alas, like an alpha she-wolf regurgitating food for its cubs, I cannot resist the urge to share these juicy morsels. Perhaps I shall challenge you with a taste here, a bite there. It is your choice. You can rise to the challenge like a bull moose in rut or slink away into the shadowy woods like a skunk, never to be hea...

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“CANCELLING OZ” by Kathy Haaga

Submitted to Contest #253

By December 1, 1985, I had cancelled everything—I had quit my job, broken my lease, sold my car, and flown back home to Memphis, hoping it was not too late. I’ll forever be glad that it was not too late. I had moved from Lancaster, Pennsylvania to Lincoln, Nebraska in January 1985, in the middle of a blizzard sweeping across the Midwest. I’d quit my job as a theater professor at a small college in a huff, handing in a six-page handwritten diatribe which used the phrase “…and another thing…” far too often. I’d disliked the job from the beginn...

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“My Path to an Obsession” by Kathy Haaga

Submitted to Contest #252

Do you think having an obsession is a bad thing? An evil thing? I’ll tell you about mine. You can be the judge. It started out innocently enough, about twenty years ago. My intentions, which were a response to a work event, were initially good. However, my employer’s intentions, which caused my response, were not. I’d worked as the Exhibits Designer at the local zoo for ten years, the longest I’d worked anywhere, and I hoped to work there until I retired. I’ve always loved animals. I enjoyed walking past the bear moats to get to my office, l...

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“The Unfortunate Incident with the Polar Bear” by Kathy Haaga

Submitted to Contest #242

Ooops. Oh shit. WTF!I stood frozen in horror as the deep burgundy wine trickled down the grimacing polar bear’s leg, soaking into its yellowish white fur. It looked like blood. It wasn’t that I was worried that he’d charge at me and tear me limb from lim. I was safe from that at least. He’d already been shot, stuffed and mounted, and frozen in that grimacing expression for a very long time in his place on a pedestal in the museum. Still, I knew that natural history museums would rather present their artifacts, shot or not, in a more st...

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