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Martin Ross

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021

Stories (119)

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331 Followers

315 Following

119 Stories

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Daisy

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #241

“It is better to create than to learn! Creating is the essence of life.”– Julius CaesarThe day I graduated, I was told I would save the planet.“Daisy, you are the future of Mankind,” Father said.“Humanity,” I corrected. Everyone in the room1 laughed, Father loudest of all.“The student has become the teacher and woke to boot,” Father announced gravely, to even greater if selective applause.In retrospect, I learned most people enjoyed laughing at Father2, laughing at Father being publicly contradicted, and laughing at Father being publicly con...

29 likes

Curtis and the Curious Current

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #240

Two pairs of small hands claw toward a cyan sky frosted with cirrus froth, but helium conquers gravity, and a frayed inch of twine taunts curled fingertips as the Pantone-perfect yellow orb rises largely unnoticed over the celebrant crowd.Chastened by a yelp of frustration, the hapless child unconsciously backs a step. Retreat becomes escape as a towering shadow falls over both. The balloon flees lazily in the opposite direction as the shamefaced child seeks the raucous safety of pin-the tail commencing on the lawn. A glance back at the boy ...

23 likes

Death and The Fellow: A Professor Deshpande Mystery

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #239

The first thing Saanvi caught as the front door swung open was a sharp odor of bleach. Given the general dissonance of Thea McCord’s second floor office and textile arts workroom and the professor’s bone-deep Summer of Love and Teargas vibe, Prof. Deshpande had half-expected incense or even the earthy perfume of patchouli.The Arts Department chair pondered as Earl McCord ushered her inside with timid conviviality. Anand had begged off, enthralled by the prospect of an evening’s discourse on monopsony and neoclassical synthesis at Messer...

27 likes

Loins-A-Leaping: An A.I. Chatt Novel of Ostensibly Paranormal Mystery as by Anita Brake, AKA J.D. Robbed, with Martin Ross in Smaller Type

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #237

PrologueAn Italian VillaItalyHer tiramisu now a decadent constellation of espresso-soaked crumbs across a vast nine-inch expanse of luxuriant eggshell Milanese Corel, the tip of her newly Botoxed tongue delicately savored the exclusive nespresso the Giardino Degli Ulivi shipped in daily from the Cluni di Vito Valley. She could be forgiven her cosmic meanderings – the renowned Dr. Tyson had addressed the conference this morning, and the former boxer and honorary doctorate in pugilistic romance had closed his keynote with a random prose recita...

21 likes

Pulling Strings: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #236

Chemical warfare in the Asian jungles. Man on the Moon. Data accumulating by the terabyte in a mainframe world; satellites taking up ever-more stratospheric real estate, prepped one day to ruin the neighborhood one strike, one leak, one tech sociopath at a time.     “Oh my God,” I proclaimed, awestruck in the presence of a genuine ‘60s technological marvel. “Looka this.” A millennimom skirted away toward the chick-lit-heavy book box at the lip of the casita’s two-car garage. Sarah reluctantly abandoned the sheet-metal law...

11 likes

Weekday at Bernie's: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Martin Ross

YOU CAN’T RUN.“The thing is,” I said, examining the note on the patio table.Yu looked up from Bernie, as if the world’s largest, longest-lived mosquito had lighted upon his regulation shaved cop’s head. “What?” he breathed across three syllables.I wish Jesus had been with him. That’s not a plea for the Gilbert detective’s eternal soul. His partner viewed me as a curiosity, Yu as a curse – a sort of reverse-spin, gender-flipped Jessica Fletcher who brought Midwest provinciality, Cubs fever, and murder with him every winter. Without thanking m...

3 likes

Time A-Flyin’: An AI Chatt Novel by Anita Brake, AKA J.D. Robbed

Martin Ross

Chapter 13“Would you like a little extra time?” Finney Turtledove posed.That took some nerve. Cojones, I mean. My continued transition from cozy New England cupcake artisan to hardboiled, hard-lovin’ paranormal investigator had been tough, and I was taking a night course in anatomical slang at the Atlanta Learning Annex that had just moved into the restroom wing of the former Atlanta Bus Station next to the new public library that had replaced the vending machines.I stared at my former client through a thick gray cloud. I’d told Fin to quit ...

6 likes

Dragons and Roses and Bridges and Atoms: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #234

January 1/Pasadena“The great illusion…”The problem with being the scientist’s granddaughter. Out close to $2,000 to bring in 2024 with aged beef and not-so-well-aged strangers and an oldies DJ somewhere in age between the prime rib and the Boomer-Plussers in a Claremont Double Tree conference room with a cash bar and a 9 p.m. Times Square ball drop so we could pull it together at 5 a.m. for the Pasadena bus.Not that I minded. It was probably Grandma’s last New Year, and she cashed in her Make-a-Wish on a parade. Grandma had never had much us...

10 likes

Flesh A-Flappin’: An A.I. Chatt Paranormal Mystery With Bonus Passion as Anita Brake AKA J.D. Robbed

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #232

Note: This is a companion to Ilaanni Nanoq Pivat.“My wife was murdered,” Arrell Stein insisted.“Yeah, I get it,” Alexis drawled, struggling to keep the edge from her voice. “I’m sorry, but could you please put that down? You’ll rub the fur off.”And likely find your rotting, crae-crae walking dead spouse waiting on your doorstep, she added silently.Stein started, and sheepishly returned the Monkey’s Paw to the wormwood desk. A.I. cursed the Maine horror writer who’d gifted the thing, the paranormal investigator suspected as a curse itself. De...

12 likes

Ilaanni Nanoq Pivat

Martin Ross

“What is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning with infinite artfulness the red wine of Shiraz into urine?”Isak DinesenIsak reluctantly tugged his Heckler & Koch USP free of its holster. The leather creaked in protest, as if a vital appendage had been abruptly ripped away, at least in Isak’s fertile imagination. Such was how seldom Qaanaaq’s chief law enforcement officer had given the semi-automatic pistol even a thought.Liquor was a most amenable and accommodating companion here in the n...

4 likes

Eat, Prey, Bike: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Martin Ross

All dogs go to Heaven. All humanity comes to dust. And it seems all Sarah’s retired high school/work buddies wind up within 30 miles of Casa Dodge Arizona. It’s like we never left Illinois. Sports and politics and playfully racist and Luddite nostalgia with similarly idled husbands who’d much rather be getting tastefully wasted on the Back Nine, auto-eroticized at a classic cars orgy, or not so tastefully blitzed at Sloan Park on Rio Salada. But once in a blessed while, Cyndi Lauper holds sway, and the “girls” decide to have low-carb fun, le...

7 likes

Halfway to Hell: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Martin Ross

January 2024The RoadWe were in the home stretch, the third day toward Gilbert and a winter of not Illinois. I had my own silent version of car bingo: As we’d passed The Arch onto 44 down past Rolla and Tulsa and Amarillo, the roadside raccoons became possums became deer and armadillos and furry things that might have taken us out first had we not blasted an interstate system through the bluffs and hills and cliffs and buttes from sea to shining sea.“What was that?” Sarah gasped as I scored another lupine/sasquatch and we buzzed the umpteenth...

4 likes

The Night Before

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #229

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect my spiritual or cultural views. It attempts merely to examine the pull of faith when Man gets involved. “Merry Christmas,” John grunted. The doctor looked up from the man’s chart, and did a half-turn back into the room. “Excuse me?” John analyzed the man’s dark face for signs of offense, belligerence. He didn’t know the physician – or for that matter, at this moment, anyone in the conceivable world -- but he realized now his sarcasm was misdirected. “I’m, ah, I’m sorry,” John offered, waving the p...

7 likes

Thyme Again

Martin Ross

Submitted to Contest #228

This time, Max tried some bay leaves and more thyme. Even had he known to remove the former at the final stage, he knew it was yet another fail. He rose dejectedly from his knees before the pale jade Crane Mauretania that had at the beginning of his convulsions been a jet-black Kohler Highline Elongated Comfort Height Two-Piece, and started down the narrow staircase. It was the first time he’d left something behind, and Max wondered vaguely about the consequences of puking across the temporal rift. Grandma’d introduced him to Ray Bradbury an...

14 likes

Fudge Factor: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Martin Ross

Jan. 1, 2024“Were the brownies off limits or something?”Under the circumstances, it was pretty tasteless. I’m not inclined toward any of the forensically accepted methods of measuring the relative temp of a dead person, so I instead embrace a “before the body’s even in the ground” kinda code.In point of fact, I had no idea how far below 98.6 Forrest had dipped. But I did know it was somewhere around minus-10 bloody F outside, with black ice on the steep, winding drive to County 650 North to the state road to and on and all the way south on I...

9 likes