Lyndon Jones

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

17 karma pts

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“Little Moments” by Lyndon Jones

Emily and Jack had always lived their lives at full speed. They were high-powered professionals, each day a blur of meetings, deadlines, and urgent emails. Their love for each other was strong, but often, it was overshadowed by the relentless pace of their lives. They promised each other they would find time to slow down, but it never seemed to happen—until one serendipitous weekend. It was a crisp autumn afternoon when Emily suggested a spontaneous getaway to the countryside. Jack, who had been feeling the weight of his latest project, agre...

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“Took The Time” by Lyndon Jones

Eva Oddling was the youngest and only member of her family to not have a supernatural gift. Every Oddling had awakened their own gifts by the time they turned twelve. Sara Oddling, the eldest child, had the gift of Mental Peering. She could discern others' intentions with startling clarity, making secrets all but impossible to hide from her. Thomas Oddling, the second-born, had the gift of Language, which granted him an unparalleled ability to connect and communicate. He could forge friendships and romances effortlessly, bridging gaps betwe...

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“To Wish For” by Lyndon Jones

"So what's the catch?" I had summoned a genie trapped within this stone lamp about the wishes being offered. "You have three wishes," the genie said. "But there is always a catch." I was curious, and the lamp looked old. It had been in my family for generations. Maybe it was time to see what it could do. "What is the catch?" I asked. "There are always rules," the genie said. "And this one is no different." "What are the rules?" “Oh you know the usual, 3 wishes.” He pulls a pair of glasses out of thin air and puts them on. "You can only...

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“Breath of the Briefcase ” by Lyndon Jones

Submitted to Contest #119

It came from my dad’s old briefcase. Not much to say about the thing. It was an old, sleek, black leather-bound briefcase. One of the few things he left me after his death. Along with a bucket of questions. Such as: “Is that briefcase breathing?” Breathing, as if it is alive. Fear jumps from my legs, up my spine, to the base of my head. It’s just like him to leave me with a literal object of fear. It’s been 2 weeks since he passed, I’ve been ready to look through his belongings. I often wondered if he liked messing with me. There’s ...

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