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Martin Ross

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021

Stories (128)

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396 Followers

354 Following

128 Stories

5926 karma pts

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Chanoyu: A Tale of the Arts Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #320

“This is all my fault.”Wei Zhao possessed uncommon but abstract compassion. Comfort was within her wheelhouse; consolation and absolution were anomalous amenities within her academic circle.“I’m sure that’s not true,” Wei murmured. Professor Deshpande, Saanvi, was still, serene, as usual. No help at all, for having dragged her into this drama.“If I hadn’t talked her into getting out, meeting people, being more active and engaged, this would never have happened.” Akira Ostrander insisted. “She was living, I suppose, her version of a harmoniou...

28 likes

The Sub in Question

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #317

Introduction and First ReadingAnd the multitudes proclaimed that he who had cast the first sandwich was without sin.Councilman Plessy dissented.“I mean, it was a fucking sandwich,” the mayor murmured, as the Third Ward rep swiped macerated tuna and mayo from his cheeks and his favorite red Monday night polo.“It was fucking assault is what it was!” Plessy raged. “It was malice of forethought, incitation, terrorism against a public official, and I could have been seriously injured.”“Maybe, it’d been toasted or a footlong,” Detective Mead mulle...

35 likes

The Overnight

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #315

He glanced again at the suit, draped as always over the back of the loveseat she’d always called the sofa until the day she’d granted him full custody.The lines, the fabric of both the Men’s Wearhouse two-button charcoal basic and the mocha couch were pristine and perfect: The suit straight from Millington Same-Day Dry Cleaning, the loveseat from willful disuse. It had simply filled a gap in the living room feng shui – snuggling had never been their love language, and entertaining had never been their meat.It was a form with neither physical...

27 likes

The Legend of Mere Noire: A Mike Dodge Histery

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #314

CW: Themes of violence and substance abuse The first arc of the blade split the long plank bar, driving Boisfort expensively into the bottles and jugs on the back wall. Boisfort rose smelling of musk and sawdust and rye and corn whiskey and applejack and, most lamentably, the prized cognac delivered by train just that morning. Struggling to his feet, the behemoth roared an oath that might have moved Tarabeth Montgomery to a far more homicidal act had he used his adopted tongue. As it was, the petite, axe-wielding Methodist read the storm in ...

20 likes

HAI and The Out-of-Towners

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #312

HI, GOOD TO MEET YOU!I'M HAI. HOW CAN I HELP YOU TODAY? BUT FIRST, COULD YOU TELL ME SOMETHING ABOUT YOURSELF?I’m sorry. Your reply does not conform to any of the 10,017 known human languages. Here are some visual, auditory, neurocognitive, and semantic anchoring/contextual cues that might help facilitate a productive conversation.**Thank you. I will now activate LinguaNexus by Delphiniux, and we can begin.DELPHINIUX – A WORLD OF POSSIBILITIES IN ONE CLICK!The more complete and detailed your responses, the better I can serve your information...

28 likes

Alignment: A Tale of the Arts Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #311

“I regret…”“Yes?” Saanvi probed after a moment.A sudden, revelatory smile. Devoid of contrition or shame.“Nothing.”**“Professor Saanvi Deshpande,” the petite woman announced, smiling serenely down at the redheaded undergrad behind the registration table.“Of course,” “A-H” beamed. “I almost took your commercial graphics course fall semester, but then I switched my major. To, ah, Business Administration,” the younger woman whispered, peeking at “R-Z” conversing with a registrant about the atrium’s gleaming marble floor being “a missed opportun...

16 likes

Derek and Annika 2: An Escalating Narrative

Martin Ross

Disclaimer: This is the sequel to Derek and Annika: An Evolving Story (Contest #305) that nobody asked for…PrologueJuly 2025“So what’s the plan here?”Eric fucking jumped. The pre-owned aftermarket bed cover almost slammed down on his right hand. His writing hand.The woman in Eric’s headlights cleared her throat. “I said…”“Shit,” Eric squeaked. “Sorry.”“What is your plan here?” New York Times bestselling author Hannah Morstan-Doyle inquired, calmly. “Please tell me you’re not going to dump the body in the creek back there. You’re playing Russ...

15 likes

The Red Drink: A Tale of the Arts Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #309

“How about a Sorel Hibiscus Mule?”“I’d prefer a Ten-to-One, you don’t mind,” I told the “bartender.” “Never was a vodka girl.”Her nearly unlined face tightened slightly, drawing the ruby smile out and adding a new glint to the still-sharp espresso eyes. “Do I know you?”That was Thea. Fifty years and some change later, despite the $100 sterling silver cut and sleek Sika dress, it was the same “girl” who’d flipped off a heavily armored Chicago cop, teeth pressed against bottom lip in an undeniable expression of defiance, and still managed to e...

26 likes

Undetected: A Tale of the Art Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #308

Ethan’s heart thudded in his ears as the Council volunteers tugged the University-logoed plastic tarpaulin from Undetected. The pomp and ceremony associated with installation normally was of little significance to Assistant Professor Cooper. Nebraska-born, he found the labor itself – the design, the craft, the exhilarating exhaustion, the stiffness and sweat and abrasions and nicks inherent in converting Matter into Art – the true rush.But this Saturday afternoon, 92 degrees with a triple-figure index that had applied a virtual hot patch ove...

26 likes

Notes On A Summer Day at The Lake

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #307

“As you start to walk on the way, the way appears.”Rumi June 11The boy waits, just this side of the goose shit. If not for the semi-sprung folding chair and tripod, I’m thinking one of the Lake’s more common species – black frayed cap, black logo tee, second-owner Nike cross-trainers. Cross-training on the art of the sociopath on the stray mallard or woodchuck by daylight and the way of the predator in the shadows of a degrading dusk. Anywhere between 16 and 25, stalking the weak to feed the beast.I slow. Zack trains a long lens into the thi...

37 likes

Derek and Annika: An Evolving Story

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #305

"Either this wallpaper goes or I do."Oscar Wilde's final review “To Derek, Annika’s heart was like a dark abyss, a Stygian labyrinth, one might say a caliginous landscape…”“One might…”Hannah Morstan-Doyle waved Jana off, this time a bit more impatiently. “Let’s keep this constructive, all right? This is supposed to be a safe space.”Jana Frechette had paid her $250 like everyone else in the Critique’s Circle, or as Eric might have put it, the Creative Coterie of Castigation.“Well, c’mon,” Jana moaned. “Obviously, this shit is AI. Look at him ...

25 likes

Caravaggio Adjacent: A Tale of the Art Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #304

Malik surveyed the Martian terrain with fascination, despite the recent Southern California tremors that had had his University colleagues fairly begging him to reconsider the sabbatical road trip. Man’s folly, nature’s caprice.The western Imperial Valley nonetheless seemed like a lifeless boulder-strewn gateway between universes, and Professor Aboud’s fingers relaxed as he passed into the “real” California.The verdant mountains lining the 8 had sprouted huge cliffside estates built under the delusion there was any place where studio or Sili...

19 likes

Angela's Absence: A Tale of the Arts Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #303

“Holy f—,” I hissed. The old gal behind Rey’s beefy shoulder emanated Protestant outrage.Rey grinned. I stared at the pink iPhone wallet he’d plopped onto the faux-walnut tabletop.The blue-hair had been shooting rays at the burly Latino with the salt-and-pepper pompadour and matching goatee, battered ear stud, and old-school, all-caps Gothic ink wrists to cuffs. The country-fried Stop Inn had seemed an odd and potentially dicey choice for Rey.I salvaged my fork from the biscuit gravy, wiped it and my Iphone clean, and, using the spare napkin...

23 likes

Seeking Omar Nassim: A Tale of the Arts Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #298

CAUTION: Socially sensitive themes“What time is it?” Professor Urquardt muttered. The ICE guy failed to respond, sucked at his McCafe. His boss had recently vented to FOX about Taco Bell posting its five-star menu in “Mexican” instead of the (presumptive) King’s English, so she figured the Starbuck’s grid was beyond the agent’s pay grade/PSAT. The Campus Coffee Commune had a socialist/lesbian/global optic the fed likely didn’t want immortalized the second Melissa hollered “La Migra!” The one Spanish phrase most of these Gen-Plussers knew asi...

23 likes

Mallard of Forethought: A Tale of the Arts Department

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #296

“Ducks,” Professor Thomas Skillruud mulled.“Well, dead ducks,” Art Willows corrected gruffly. “Well, not real dead ducks. Decoys.”“Ah,” Tom nodded, willing clarity to no avail.Art hung on the lull for a moment. “Sooo, my grandpa, uh, passed on a month ago…”“I’m so sorry.”“Nahhhhh.” The Chicago fireman made it a nasal five syllables. “He died doing what he loved – fell out of a duck blind, and you can’t ask too much more than that, right?”“You certainly cannot.” Tom assented, puzzling why a sightless man might have been traipsing about wherev...

43 likes