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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023
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...
Submitted to Contest #226
The glossy postcard from Australia depicted a lazy-looking town of empty roads, deserted pavements, and rows of identical little houses, each within a small square garden. To Simon Platt’s eye, it looked like a place for old-age pensioners and their fat constipated dogs. He flipped the card over and re-read his father’s short ‘miss-you mate’ message which was almost identical to the one he’d received a few weeks ago.Simon’s mother, Sylvia was exasperated at his disdain for their plans, “Your father says every day is like a summer S...
Submitted to Contest #224
Celine confirmed their status on the console, “Gale Crater Dome, only 162 million miles to go!”.“Then we make a right, or a left?” Mordecai joked.Celine flipped to a new window on the console, “NYX II is cruising at just over 20,000 miles per hour. ETA is 6.53 on November 16th, 2038. Mars, here we come!”.“I hope it’s 6.53 in the afternoon”, said Mordecai, “remember to wake me if it’s a morning arrival”. They both laughed.“So, now what, Mr. Poet Laureate?”, said Celine, an inviting smile on her face as she swiveled the pi...
Submitted to Contest #223
Reggie was in a hidden room, the tower room, then he suddenly wasn't.“I swear it’s the truth; he gave us the assignment in the tutorial last week, while you were at the doctors” said Delia, a bit too enthusiastically, “Fitz wants a two-page essay at the end of the today”, she couldn’t quite suppress a smug smile when she saw Reggie’s alarm. She flipped open her ring-binder to a neatly typed document and read the prompt out loud,” Why is the world, as a whole, as it is actually, and not otherwise?” and she managed to sound arrogant,...
Submitted to Contest #222
Old Hugh’s toothless jaw seemed to move independently from his skull, restlessly searching for its place. He picked up a beer in his cadaverous hand, sipped off the foam, licked his dry, cracked lips, and his craggy face relaxed for an instant, repose from constant agitation. “Give me a moment to savor this nectar, my dear”, he said, looking at Kelsey with hooded eyes that seemed buried deep in his skull, and seemed too intelligent to be trusted. His voice sounded like it was struggling to get out of his body, like he hadn’t u...
Submitted to Contest #221
Six Months PriorAt the prayer group meeting in Unit 2, at the Maine State Prison, half a dozen inmates found temporary solace in communion, an oasis of humanity in a barren place. Among them was a relatively youthful man of a broken and yearning heart., barely twenty-five years old. He hung his head and prayed hard, harder than any man should, so hard that he sucked a singularity through a cleft in eternity, he stirred up the spirits of the dead, the other prisoners could feel it, and it drew a rush of energy into the recreation room.&n...
Submitted to Contest #220
I received a call from dispatch: Joey Goodfray was down on the boardwalk causing some kind of commotion, but when I arrived at the harbor trail he was sitting on a bench, smoking, looking like crap, like he’d a had a few too many brewskis. I told him to put out the cigarette which he did by flicking it off the boardwalk and into the ocean, which ticked me off, but I let it go. Joey and I graduated from the same high school, a few years apart, but our paths had diverged. Cops and robbers from the same hood. He had a g...
Submitted to Contest #218
The mozzarella cheese slides across the top of the marinara sauce, spills off the side of the pizza slice onto the red-hot electric element. Gray smoke spews from the toaster oven and the smell of burnt cheese spreads through the kitchen and into the dining area. Maki, the black dog looks anxious, if the smoke alarm activates, she will start running around, barking, go bat-shit crazy. I open the window above the sink, the ocean breeze pushes air into the kitchen, the smoke dissipates, and drama is averted. Two crows...
Submitted to Contest #217
Thaddeus Blue, dressed in his white and teal-striped pajamas, closed the secret panel and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Small pockmarks of light illuminated concealed passageways and hidden stairs owing to tiny peep holes and fissures in the fabric of the old house. From these vantage points a voyeur might observe the affairs of Cricklewood Hall, but Blue’s intent, aligned with that of the fabulous Mrs. Peacock, went beyond observation. Attuned to the gloom, he made his way toward the rear of the great house, to w...
Submitted to Contest #216
It was a pleasant enough day for a stroll in the country, a day hike from the Town of Ryton to Hinksbottom village. For Randall it was an opportunity to evaluate Debbie as a potential spouse, to do so at leisure and in isolation from her friends. For Debbie it was an opportunity to try out her new gun. Randall was an odd looking fellow, resembling a praying mantis from a distance, picking out long ponderous strides, one for every two taken by Debbie. Debbie however was an ordinary looking woman, perhaps thirty years of ag...
Submitted to Contest #215
There’s urgency and chatter in town about Lee and how he’s going to arrive on Saturday bringing a ton of shit with him from down south. He is one evil son of a bitch, getting stronger by the hour. He killed on the islands, and now he’s headed to Truro, where they’re probably scared witless. When he gets here on Saturday, he’ll still be in a fighting mood, knives out, ready to rumble, like when Bob came through here years ago, ripping stuff up and spreading terror. More than a few kids in town were named after that evil mo...
Submitted to Contest #214
Tabatha looked in the bathroom mirror and hardly recognized herself. She swished to the right, twirled to the left, puckered up and air-kissed the mirror, but without her trademark make-up she looked just like the girl next door. Arista was standing behind her, arms folded. “Very good, very convincing, but can you also do something about the clothing? We’re in Maine, not LA, and we’re going hiking, not pole dancing.”. Arista handed her an LL Bean T-shirt, at least two sizes too big. Tabatha took it from her and held ...
Submitted to Contest #212
This is a story about a letter. Like the letter itself, much of this story is true, maybe all of it is true? But then again, maybe it’s just the invention of a creative mind, or mis-remembered events and conversations? We may never know.Of the biological father, Mum seemed a bit vague. Maybe he was half Indian and half Scottish. Maybe he was a doctor or a surgeon, or an aspiring movie producer. Maybe his first name was Ellis, or Elliot. For sure he was a philanderer, for sure he didn’t know I exist, n...
Submitted to Contest #211
A purple book upon her lap, Charlotte was nodding off in the winged armchair by the open French doors when Alys Jones, the generally put-upon cook, cleaner and nursemaid of Brynderwen Hall came into the library, prodded her on the upper arm, alerting her to the presence of a young man. “Visitor for Mister Koenig, a Mister Nigel Brandford”, she said loudly into Charlotte’s good ear. Alys turned to the pasty-faced young man with the thinning hair in the ill-fitting, rumpled, and shiny gray suit who stood on the threshold of the libra...
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