Laurie Roy

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2022

Stories (4)

4 Stories

115 karma pts

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“Hearing the lies” by Laurie Roy

Submitted to Contest #218

   He was lying. The quality of the lie had nothing to do with the belief of the lie. The way he delivered it, his smooth southern drawl falling from his perfect mouth in a cadence of refined, well-bred rhythms, had other detectives believing him. But not her. Her own speech, spoken only when necessary and as little as possible, would often startle a person who hadn't met her; if his voice was smooth whiskey in a glass, hers was coarse salt ground by mortar and pestle.   "I've told this to four other investigato...

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“What if's” by Laurie Roy

Submitted to Contest #172

Aer Lingus flight EIU517 was on final approach coming into Boston. Home. Well, almost home, an hour and half drive north, but still New England, still home. As the landing gear clunked out of the belly of the plane I looked out the window, the familiar city scape of Boston getting closer. My heart hurt. My brain kept asking, what if?    For Twenty-six years, almost to the day, I've wondered what if. If ‘what if’ was a cancer I'd be dead of it by now. If I had a nickel for every time I'd wondered ‘what if’, I'd be a millio...

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“2022 Hours” by Laurie Roy

Submitted to Contest #163

The clock said 2022 hours when the phone rang. It said 2022 hours when the screaming could be heard before the phone was even to the dispatcher’s ear. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and the briefest flash of sorrow crossed her mind. It's not my emergency. She recited the mantra. It gave her comfort.The scream was more animal than human, the feral quality of it brought her pulse leaping before she even knew what was happening. What she did know, before she even said the words "Emergency dispatch,” was that death was on the other en...

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“Food Warefare” by Laurie Roy

Submitted to Contest #162

Food WarfareIt’s usually when you’re being smug and satisfied and thinking that you have the world by the balls that you end up in a world of hurt. The spaghetti clinging to the walls of my childhood home and the meatball on the chandelier proved the point. Somehow, in the midst of my father’s birthday party, war broke out. The remnants of Nana’s Jell-O salad; something she always made but no one ever ate, and the green leafy salad cousin Marie made, were comingled on the sideboard, a strange goopy looking alien with mini marshmallow eyes an...

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Author bio

Lover of words, being alone in the woods, the loonies I call family and the sound of the Atlantic in winter.