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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023
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,...
Submitted to Contest #234
“All this rush, rush, rushing around, it is more than my head can bear”, said John Appleton, depositing their overnight bags, a newspaper, and himself, exhausted, on a bench in Boston’s South Station, and there he wiped perspiration from his brow with a crumpled kerchief. His sister, Margaret perched beside him and offered up a private prayer for small mercies, which being the cleanliness of the rag, and his temporary capitulation to exhaustion. Judged by the acerbic commentary that accompanied much of their sight-seeing, Boston ha...
Submitted to Contest #233
“You are so full of crap, Ronny”, said Mad Max, “You ain’t no different from the rest of us. Fact is, you’re muddle-minded, and full of shit about what coulda, woulda, shoulda been”. Mad Max stamped his feet, flicked his cigarette into Station Road gutter. “Couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t”, chimed in Squidward, “I could tell you a thing or two about the things that I didn’t do”. Squidward rocked his giant bulk back and forth on the park bench, always in motion, never eating in public; it was a mystery to the other tenants how he sta...
Submitted to Contest #232
The fall weather was unseasonably warm, the sky cloudless, and the foliage on the upper slopes of Mount Katahdin was tinged with rust, so Baxter State Park, resplendent and remote, was overflowing with day-hikers and campers, everywhere abuzz with anticipation for the arrival of Konika’s Comet. Five plain white vans arrived at the Ranger Station carrying forty-three passengers, each with close-cropped or shaven heads, wearing androgynous black slacks and turtleneck sweaters, the mix of age and sex obscured by sameness. Sitting stiffly, ...
Submitted to Contest #231
TW: Sexual and physical violence, self-harm, and generally unpleasant things. Dressed in a faux leopard skin pant suit, Karen Teale watched despondently as glittering singles became intimate pairings, their insistent hands touching, eyes flashing, faces flushed with new love. She stared sadly at her empty wine glass while trying to ignore the sloppy drunk with whom she’d been seated at the gala. A steward poured another glass of Chardonnay, and two sequined dancers razzle-dazzled across the ballroom floor. Karen sl...
Submitted to Contest #227
The overnight snap brought things to a sullen halt in the harbor, empty but for two neglected lobster boats that bobbed about listlessly on red rusty moorings. Sea smoke drifted across the lead-grey ocean surface, and billowing clouds of vapor spewed from the shiny steel chimney of the cannery on the far side of the channel, cloying the waterfront with sweet and acrid air. A blue-black stain of ugly clouds appeared to be sucking up the ocean out beyond the archipelago, a promise of snow somewhere, but not here in Bairstow, wh...
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