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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023
Submitted to Contest #253
The rune stone lay in a nook at the far end of a lightless cave, accessible via a steep and narrow stairwell known only to the masons of Kern.George Sturridge, Master Mason, lifted the tablet of stone from its narrow perch, and held it in the flickering light of Erika Smoody’s candle. A strange resonance emanated from the tablet into the bedrock foundations of the Castle. He ran his calloused fingers across the glyphs and letters.“Of Kern Rock in the beginning. Of Kern Rock in the end,” the mason read the puzzling incantation out loud t...
Submitted to Contest #252
Carl looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and an old man stared back at him. The face had changed, the mirror too, but he could trace a straight line from the old man to the boy he had once been.“Bullshit!” said the editor, “every face tells a story, but it never follows a straight line. There’s always ups and downs, arcs, setbacks and deviations. You are lying to me and to yourself.” The editor jabbed a finger at Carl.Carl dodged the finger. “It is just as much effort writing my own story as it is any other,” he sai...
Submitted to Contest #250
“Psst”.“Vincento?”He was like a cat, from the back alley to the dimly lit sidewalk beside her, he was suddenly there, holding her hand.“How is my Ethel?” said Vincento.They caressed, her curly blonde locks spilling back from her eager face as she succumbed to his embrace and his exploring hands.“Vincento! Not here. Not now. Someone might see us”.Ethel grabbed his wandering hand and clasped it in hers, and they stood grinning at each other in the dim glow of the gas light at the Italian end of the street where the row houses crammed closely t...
Submitted to Contest #249
Hope, Montana, population 488. He pulled up at the diner in the center of the sleepy town, stiff limbed and thirsty, and nearly out of gas. Jethro didn’t rightly recall where he’d come from that day, somewhere out West he supposed, but thinking on it puzzled him and made him uneasy, like he'd forgotten something important, or lost someone close.It was late, the eatery was nearly empty. Jethro sat at a booth, gulped ice water, picked up the menu and watched the waitress argue over the bill with a brown-haired woman sat in a corner b...
Submitted to Contest #247
May 1909, New York CityWe visited Peary’s surviving Eskimo in the basement of the Museum of Natural History, where they are locked up. It is warm, well-lit, and they live in a plaster diorama that mimics the mean hovels from which they were rescued. They are Kanusha’s next of kin, but they cannot be made to understand the laws or the need for a death certificate, so, Superintendent Wallace, acting for them, is desirous that Kanusha’s skeleton be preserved and displayed, but he is opposed by the Commissioner, who wants the corpse removed for ...
Submitted to Contest #246
Content warning: contains themes of racism.“No agenda, just human interest”, said the managing editor before dispatching Andrew to the heart of England.Andrew was Black, so there was always an agenda. “The American Civil war, right?”, said Andrew, who thought he’d mis-heard.“That’s right”, said the editor, a gruff direct man with a deeply suppressed sense of humor, “Not Cromwell, but Robert E. Lee; zealots, both”.“Will you issue me a musket?” said Andrew.“Funny” said the editor.+++The Civil War re-enactment was taking place in Marb...
Submitted to Contest #245
They were in his favorite restaurant, downtown, in Tribeca.“Let’s do the eclipse”, he said.He seemed very busy, so it came as a surprise to her.“Are you sure?” she said, “it’s such a long trip, to Maine”.“I can carve out time, but I might need to make a few phone calls on the road,” he said.She didn’t mind. His work was important. She would find a place for them to stay.“Are you staying at my apartment tonight?” he said to her, as he handed the waiter his credit card. +++Couples, families, small groups traipsed from cars and picku...
Shortlisted for Contest #244 ⭐️
New York Patrolman, James O’Donnell, spread the pale-yellow powder along the metal tray and closed the wooden lid of the box. The mechanism clicked.“Most ingenious” said Deacon Cassidy, thrilling at the prospect of pyrotechnics.” It is a mix of potassium chlorate, aluminum, and sulfur,” said officer O’Donnell, “known as flash powder in the trade.”“The modern invades our lives”, said old Father Morris with a sigh, “and the lord moves in mysterious ways.”“As do the Sunday offerings”, said Deacon Cassidy, for whom the pilfered Poor Box was a th...
Submitted to Contest #243
“Double espresso, soy milk?”, said Spencer, swiveling to receive the coffee.“Affirmative”, said Ken, plumping down at his own desk.“Good man”, said Spencer, turning back to his trading desk, where four screens of market prices were flashing away. His eyes flicked here and there.“Did I miss the action?” asked Ken, attentive to his own terminal, a mix of red and green.“We were waiting for you, and for the PMI data to be released. We figured we’d get through that hurdle, then give the new AI trade a spin,” said Spencer.They sat at the...
Submitted to Contest #242
A major diplomatic breakthrough was brokered by Mohammed Salah the soccer superstar. Known as the Anfield Protocol, the multi-lateral agreement required several European nations to repatriate ancient treasures to their countries of origin. It was also agreed, as a quid pro quo, that the artefacts, which included the Elgin Marbles, the Rosetta Stone, and the Venus de Milo, would tour the world’s major museums before returning to their place of origin. The world seemed to be on the brink of peace and prosperity.  ...
Submitted to Contest #241
“Who is that?”, said Lorraine. She was looking over her boyfriend’s shoulder at his iPhone. It was a pretty girl with shoulder-length red hair and bright blue eyes, a sparing touch of lip gloss, standing, devil-may-care, on a rocky waterfront, pine trees in the background, somewhere along the coast, somewhere local. She was pretty and thin, had good skin too. Conrad swiped upwards and the girl disappeared.“Who is that girl”, said Lorraine, “She’s very pretty”. Too pretty, like she existed for the purpose of being loo...
Submitted to Contest #239
The last rays of sunlight sliced through the sweltering Bornean rainforest. The buzzsaw sound of cicadas, the flute-song of the barbet and the bark of an orangutan heralded the tropical dusk. Beth stumbled around in the swamp, hardly knowing which way to turn, or where to point her camera. So much to see, so little time.“Madam, we should go”, said Awang, the local guide, looking around nervously, “it will be dark soon”.“Just a couple more minutes, please”, said Beth, angling her camera lens into the mouth of the giant carrion ...
Submitted to Contest #238
It was much like any other meeting room, a boardroom table, a Polycom phone, a video screen on the credenza, leather chairs, too many, cluttered, slightly stuffy. We might have been anywhere, San Diego or Boston, but we were in Palo Alto. The receptionist, a bored young woman of about my age, offered us coffee. Tom declined, so I did too.Visitors normally get the view, it’s a thing, but Tom was having none of it and we sat with our backs to the briefly glimpsed parking lot with the eucalyptus trees shimmering in backgroun...
Submitted to Contest #237
Lieutenant Scott Thompson and Captain James Knott burst into the small house accompanied by a swirl of snow and a blast of cold air, which made their wives quiver and distracted the Lieutenant’s daughter, Kathy, from the book she was attempting to read. Scott removed his cap, and a thick thatch of black hair sprung upright giving the appearance of a man constantly surprised. He winked at his daughter, then hung his hat and great coat on an iron hook near the front door.“Brr, it's cold outside, Sybil!” said Scott to his fine-boned wife, ...
Submitted to Contest #235
The Hare pushed his way through the crowd, glad-handing the gentlemen, signing autographs, and availing himself of his handsomeness for selfies with the ladies; reassuring all and sundry with an excess of caffeinated wakefulness that this time he would prevail in the race. He punched the air theatrically, and the crowd cheered with effervescent joy, confident in a crushing victory for the famed speedster, not to mention – for a few – a modest return on their wagers with the bookmaker. The Hare was the crowd favorite.As for the Tortoise,...
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