Mark Shoe

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2019

Stories (7)

7 Stories

221 karma pts

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“Broken Toes” by Mark Shoe

On a silent stage, she stood. She felt a trickle of sweat slither down her spine, pooling between her shoulder blades. Her posture upright, and her chin slightly elevated. Raven black hair wound tight in a taut bun. She wore a short dress with a weaved pattern of lavender silk, garnished with an ornate cobalt blue bow on her left hip. Black stockings were held in place by not only a garter belt, but tape and glue. Hundre...

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“Some Things Never Change” by Mark Shoe

“I’ll take this.” Tanner slid a worn parchment on the long counter top. A spindly bald man in a greasy apron eyed him.  “That there is a bounty for a night-terror.” he trailed off.  Tanner followed the man’s eyes to his dented artificial leg. Metal bones fused to his left leg’s stump. Tanner swung his cloak over it. “Never seen a cripple in your tavern before?” ...

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“Bloody Steel” by Mark Shoe

More blood.“Wake up you little shit!” A fat fist pounded on Aaron’s rickety door.Aaron’s eyes sprung open, sticky with exhaustion. The first trickling of morning light leaked through threadbare curtains. Aaron had overslept again. He jolted from slumber, and scrambled for a rag of a shirt. Panicked heartbeats mixed with Mr. Hubbard’s meaty knocking. When the door finally opened, a furious swollen red face stared down a thick nose at Aaron, standing two heads above him.“I’m sor...

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“Slumbering Horror” by Mark Shoe

Everything was ready for the Ritual of Slumber. A stone pillar sprouted from the center of a dome circle of a room. Flickering candle light hummed a warm glow of light, but warmth was scarce. On the pillar, canal grooves spiraled into a single path which fed into a black hole. Stood around this single feature were a dozen human silhouettes with silver masks and white robes. One man wearing a golden mask stepped into the ...

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“Perfect Girl.” by Mark Shoe

My mother always told me: behind every strong man is an even stronger woman. Sarah’s alarm always went off at six am. She particularly struggled with Mondays, and this one was no exception. Dragging her feet across the carpeted floor, her memory of her home was proficient enough to navigate with her eyes closed, only opening them when she felt cold smooth tiles.  Cracking...

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“A Memory Best Left Alone” by Mark Shoe

In the front garden of my childhood home, there grew a tall cherry blossom tree. In spring, it blossomed a deep rosy pink, and in only a few weeks, it sprinkled the lawn with light pink petals. I spent many summer days climbing it, and lying in its shade while I read. Fall and winter were occupied with holidays, and winter in particular had wires and lights intertwined about its branches, as if it were blooming in the snow. Although fickle, my memory of that cherry blossom which sat on a soft mound of dirt and wood chips in th...

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“The Forgotten Path” by Mark Shoe

        When I was a boy, my mother told me how men would soar through the skies, and sail across the seas. But these unnatural acts angered god, who sought to punish man’s arrogance. He brought the seas to boil, melting men’s ships, and threw the skies into violent storms, to tear off men’s wings. Pen scratching interweaved with a crackling fire, as Elroy wrote in his leather bound journal.              &nb...

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Author bio

A story teller, using my minds eye to reach into other worlds and using words to describe what I saw. You know, normal stuff. I need to write more.