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A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020
Submitted to Contest #60
They stare at me.It’s unsettling, their gazes. I walk slowly through the small dilapidated town, my eyes focused on the dirt road, glancing up occasionally to see if their eyes remain transfixed on my image.They still are. All of them.Even more unsettling are their bodies.Every single villager retains only three limbs. Two arms and a leg or one arm and two legs. Something missing from every one of them.When I first arrived here, to this strange place...
Submitted to Contest #59
Sleep.Alarm.The man switches it off.Eat.Work.Eat.Sleep.Alarm.The man switches it off.Eat.Work.Eat.Sleep.Alarm. The man sighs as he switches it off.Eat. A bowl of soggy flakes. Milk that’s almost expired.Work. A programmer. The job designed to “keep humanity running,” as the...
“The Dark Lady is coming,” Mother Agnes whispers hoarsely, her large glass eye swiveling in its socket. “The Dark Lady is coming.”I inhale sharply.The Dark Lady is coming.“I must warn the others,” I say. “Rest well, Mother Agnes.” I gather my skirt from the dusty wooden floorboards, kicking up dirt and cobwebs as I hurry to leave the elder woman. Mother Agnes remains still in her cot, her wildly long hair splayed around her like the rays of a sun. But her eye––the one that is ...
“This was wrong, David. Wrong.”“Give it a chance, Edith. Come. Let us discover this world.”Edith stares about wearily, looking at the strange world before her.David had parked the space-time teleportation vehicle––his “travel whatchamacallit,” as Edith always liked to mutter when he was not around to hear it––in the dark alleyway between two large brick buildings. She had fallen out of the vehicle rather nauseous, groaning, holding her throbbing head in her hands. David, of course, was...
I am sad.There is no denying it. The sadness still envelops me, all these many years later.It has been a long time since I have been held in the arms of my Compatriot. She was kind, and loving, and gentle. She used her long-fingered hands to ease my fears and provide a safe haven of comfort.But she is long gone now, along with all the other Bipedals. They are all gone.So, I have walked this earth alone, without my Compatriot by my side. I still remember being pressed ...
“Diary of a Survivor” Location: Former United States of America (abbr., U.S.A.) Archives: September 2432 The following is a transcription of a diary entry from survivor #128. It is one of few archival materials recovered from the Great End era. Discovered by Dr. Owen Matherson, Archaeologist [Specialty: Documentation of the Great E...
There are many people here. Many young people. They move about quickly, and loudly––too loudly.But perhaps these voices are the friendly ones. The nice voices.There is a line on the left side of the large room. It weaves about like a snake, circling around tables, moving, fluid. Comprised of many young people. The other young people are sitting at round tables scattered throughout the large room.There seems to be no pattern. No reason, no rhyme. I tap my finger against my left thigh, t...
Submitted to Contest #58
“Oy! Ollie! Get back here!”Ollie winces upon hearing his name, followed by a deep sigh. That tone is never a good one.He slowly turns around and scampers back to General Chi, who towers over him, scowling. Ollie shudders.“And where do you think you’re going?”“I was just—”“Is that how you address your General?”Ollie swallows. “Sir, I was just hungry. I was going back to Base 14––”“Back to Base 14? ...
I didn’t see the moth at first. It is small. It matches the color of our roof shingles above me: dark and dreary and gray. I have never liked moths. I don't despise them, to be fair; they’re just, simply, irritating. Flapping and buzzing around, occasionally diving toward one’s head, inducing screams and gasps of horror. They’re a nuisance to the world. And I have never enjoyed their presence.
I did not expect to end up here.Mr. Wilson was––rather, is––my charge. From birth, I was assigned to his case. Mr. Wilson is my past, my present, my future––he is my everything. I had only meant to follow him, to quench my curious thirst.But I did not expect to end up here.What had happened? How did I end up in this place, this horrible, treacherous place, soon to perished, soon to be gone from the only world I have ever known?I had followed Mr. Wilson and hi...
Submitted to Contest #57
There it is. Again.It’s happened three times today already.I narrow my eyes, waiting to catch it once more. I scan the street. The bench is cold beneath my legs, but sweat drips down my forehead all the same, stinging my eyes. I don’t want to miss it, don’t want to confirm that I am, in fact, certifiably insane. Someone, someone out there just needs to— There.This time, it’s an older woman with short, stubbly gray hair and thin glasses resting on a f...
Shortlisted: Contest #65 - "Freed"
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