Martin Buckell

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020

Stories (19)

19 Stories

323 karma pts

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“Cut Grass” by Martin Buckell

Submitted to Contest #61

Evans sat there on the park bench in his trench coat, with the morning paper in one hand and a smart phone in the other. He bore the signs of impending middle age, wrinkles around the eyes, receding grizzled hair. Those early signs of aging may have been prevented had it not been for a run of bad luck: a recent job loss and the death of his father. Under a warm cloudless sky Evans watched as a groundsman traversed the field on a sit-on-lawnmower. It was early spring. As the mower passed, the scent of freshly cut grass wafted in...

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“Fear of the Jackboot” by Martin Buckell

Submitted to Contest #44

Felix was woken by the sound of storm troopers marching along the street. He leapt out of bed and hurried to the window. Pulling aside the thin gauze curtain, he watched a score of uniformed thugs stomp past a group of frightened onlookers and disappear into a nearby side road. “Will I be killed today?” he whispered to himself as a pang of fear shot through his frame.The streets, normally bustling, had become sheepish, only the bold, the brave and those with nothing to fear carried on with their quotidian duties. Felix was an honest, ha...

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“Me Time” by Martin Buckell

Submitted to Contest #43

I lolled on the couch looking forward to an afternoon of back-to-back Netflix movies. I had everything set up: a bucket of popcorn, two litres of coke, double stacked cushions.The remote control was in prime position on the coffee table beside the couch, no more than an arms length away.My attire was loose and casual. I had made the effort of climbing out of my pyjamas and into jogging pants. Comfort being imperative for a marathon movie session.I had shut the blinds, drawn the curtains and turned off my cell phone, shut out the outside worl...

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“Leaving The Village” by Martin Buckell

Submitted to Contest #42

Regis came from a long line of farmers. He lived in a village where everyone owned a plot of arable land. He had a large house and several fields on which he grew wheat, sunflowers and rapeseed. Behind his house stood a hanger where a workshop was set up. People would come and go and use the machinery and borrow tools or stop off and chat the local gossip. You couldn’t help but like Regis. He was a big cheerful fellow, always with a smile. This close knit community was where he was born. Family were all around. His auntie lived down the lane...

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Author bio

A Brit scribbling in South West France