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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2024
Submitted to Contest #299
There were two things Nick was always concerned about: his job and his feet. His job, which paid his rent, bought his groceries, and kept his lights on in his tiny studio apartment. And his feet, which were a constant source of discomfort. Whether it was ill-fitting shoes or simply flat feet he could never find relief. So between working seven days a week and not having reliable transportation, Nick found himself walking to work on sore feet every day of the week. Except today. Today, instead of leaving at 5AM, he didn’t have to go in until ...
Submitted to Contest #294
A Heart Full of Stars Sara stared at her phone until a single tear splattered onto the screen breaking her paralyzing shock. He was gone. She read the text again. And then a third time. It was long, well worded, full of apologies and assurances of a better future. Just exactly what he would write when he wanted to end it. She could even hear his voice speaking each word like in a goddamn movie. And she heard the emphatic tone in his voice on that last line. The cloying softness he imagined carried a world of empathy and emotion - “And I wi...
Submitted to Contest #288
The BeastofMany Mouths He could smell its breath before he ever saw it, the fetid stink of hell, of devoured hopes and helpless prayers. It was coming closer, tearing through the black night, its eyes seemingly fixed on him and his. There was panic surrounding him. Screams of women and children drowned by the beast's unholy roar. It cared not of the innocent or the guilty, only its insatiable hunger. It would devour them all without remorse or pity. It didn’t hold fear in its bosom like many a creature. Its only care to escape the feeble hel...
Submitted to Contest #270
“Where is that cilantro,” he mumbled to himself, rifling through the spices like an old man searching for his nitro pills, pains in his chest rising. “I know I have cilantro!” More small jars tumbled free of the cabinet to land on the counter to spin, roll, or drop to the floor. Time was skimming by much quicker as the evening approached; his guests would be arriving in a few hours and there was much to do. He did not want to disappoint. Finally, gleaming from the back shadows, a glass jar with a hastily scribed label of masking tape and mar...
Submitted to Contest #264
He rose from his chair, flute of expensive champagne in hand, and tapped against the glass. “Thank you, everyone, for coming to our wonderful celebration. It is our truly special and sincere joy to have you all here to witness our wedding. We are blessed! “If I may take up a few minutes of your time and temporarily halt the merriment for a moment to say a few things about this incredible woman that strangely accepted my proposal of marriage. There are a few things I want to acknowledge before all of you. “Foremost I need to try and express j...
Submitted to Contest #263
My Nature He is stubborn. Stubborn like a brick wall blocking a room full of reason. It is one of his most defining traits. And, oh yeah, he is insane. “No,” he says with absolute certainty. “Then we’ll both die.” He laughs. He does that a lot. Obnoxiously. Just laugh and laugh at nothing really. Just because he can. And probably because he is insane. I keep coming back to that. How do you reason with someone that is insane? There’s no common point of reference. Nothing to build on. “And that’s okay with you?” I ask, still being hopeful I ...
Submitted to Contest #260
She opened the door slowly, coming home late. The house was dark and she was sure that Devin had already turned in for the night, needing to get up early for work. She removed her shoes and her feet felt cool against the tile, a nice reprieve from the 12 hours she spent racing about at the restaurant. But she smiled as her hand dipped into her purse to replace her keys and felt the $100 bill still slipped next to her wallet. A hundred dollars. She was so happy she had stayed at Mr. Grey’s request. As she padded across the floor to the kitche...
Submitted to Contest #255
Arthur Church wasn’t really sure what he thought about death as he sat next to his mother’s deathbed, clenching and unclenching his hands.“Arthur?” his sister touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”He jerked and then looked up at her. “I’m fine.”She looked down at his hands, fumbling about as if the fingers had decided to wrestle themselves. She mistook it for fretting over their dying mother rather than his dread of being in a situation that required conversation and a display of empathy. He folded his arms giving his nervous hands a place to...
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