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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020
Karina steadily placed that kettle with the wonky handle atop the burner and the high blue flames wiggled. She was one of the few Argentines who couldn’t stomach drinking yerba mate but since she was trying to keep her anxious fingers from rolling cigarettes in anticipation of the new year, she prepared and poured many watered-down mates. Antonio was just waking up — remember to visit Manuel, Antonio! — ...yeah, I haven’t… — he rubbed his eyes and yawned and before his vision overcame those first morning moments, like the melting dew on gras...
Submitted to Contest #104
A man of routine this gentleman was. A man whose 9 to 5 was meticulously planned and in his mind was a constant metronome. He thought he had lost his mind when he fled his original scene but soon realised that his uptight conduct was just something which went along with his grain and could not act otherwise. Very few times in his life he strayed from his routine but he was contacted from the abysmal internet by a company looking to interview him for his language services. Strage, he thought. Of all the institutes to hire, his was the younges...
Submitted to Contest #83
Sebastian must have been seven of age, as he recalls, when he first saw a mask, as he referred to them. He was running amongst the trees along the Parana river when he fell into one of the streams just as a massive ship carrying a stack of containers powered through the waters, momentarily draining the streams thus sucking Sebastian out into the current of the river. It had happened so quickly that all that he felt was being thrown around the river-bottom like a rag doll being thrashed about in the mouths of two Pitbulls. He was the ragdoll ...
Part 1 - A Bloody Moon A tale of our most inner conflicts. The year of this tale is uncertain but the men still holstered guns to their hips and the women’s dresses were long and heavy. The mode of transport, at least for the wealthy, was the trusty carriage or horseback. Hard lollies and sweets were sold out of heavy glass jars and displayed by the windows of the main shops of the main streets, and the quiet town on the shores of the new nation was tranquil as the still waters which their town resided beside. But some time ago, in the tim...
Submitted to Contest #73
The Final Red Light - I Gerardo, motionless in the quiet darkness of the amphitheatre, waiting for the signaling beam which would diminish the identical faces of the crowd into a blur of blinding red light, announcing the symbolic death and rebirth of the unnamed dancer/warrior. The final act was the most startling for Gerardo, and a thousand more performances wouldn't fade the anxiety which it provoked. He was certainly not the most inexperienced amongst the cast (a few years had rendered him competent in his act) but compared to those wh...
Submitted to Contest #67
My passion the seas Many accounts had been written on the sighting of the floating island, though many had contradicting points, for example; the brief history written by the French explorer Jean Du Pont, whose exploits had been known by most of Eastern Europe as successful, read of a cloud with vines draping from it, but upon further observation they realized that the cloud was in fact a giant island but by the time they came to this notion, it was too late and they spent their final energies and efforts chasing the ever-distancing island w...
Submitted to Contest #63
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. An eternity of stories returning to the earth as all life does. Even our books cannot last forever, at least with their original intentions intact. They may physically survive but their interpretations will eventually crumble the primal concepts. The only hope of a solution to the human condition was burned to the ground by ours truly. The library of Ertus-Cenrik was a collection of books started by a man who has been present all our lives but with different faces. This man witnessed th...
Though the harsh Saudi heat was present all year round, the Andean condor of golden wings, in remembering, would feel the cold breezes of the Aconcagua brush through its plumage. It would feel the distant Argentine winter in its bones every year and though its feet were tied and the walls of the cage which secured its position were narrow, rendering a full extension of its wings impossible, the condor could feel the pressure of the gusts press under its wings, holding it high in the skies, and with each dream would relive the former life of ...
Submitted to Contest #62
Back then, for Pedro to put food in his wife and son’s mouths would cost him around 600 pesos and would last up to a month. The mechanic business on the banks of the great Parana had been started with the greatest of intentions but with the fall of the economy, the residents of the river either learned to fix the boats themselves or they adopted a paddle. That nasal pressure pressing his eyeballs into the back of his sockets and clammy hands gripping the little wooden box so tightly that the tips of his fingers turned white and shook, with t...
In a vacuum of time is where the story of the change took place. A parallel universe that would have otherwise continued parallel until Mark disrupted the balance of all existence and the two worlds became momentarily perpendicular and crossed paths with irreversible consequences, never to meet again, straying further from their point of contact and subsequently, reality. In reality, Mark was not the man’s name but it was as good as any other he believed. The morning of the falling star was said to hold mystic properties and, not ope...
What does it mean to be human? What did it mean to be divine? There was a moment in Ramos’ life where these questions were only like shooting starts to be admired momentarily with its passing in and out of existence. But one day, without knowing why, he began to chase the falling stars until the trail disappeared and left him looking back into the mouth of the universe, the abyss. The strange boy was born out of nothingness, manifested from a cloud of dust, without roots. He was completely free to do whatever he wanted with his destiny in th...
Submitted to Contest #61
I suppose the third world is ideal for nostalgia. The buildings are the same though they have lost their colour, the energy they emit will never fade, I imagine, so long as the people hold their spirits high. Paco was a bastard child to a man he did not know. His mother did not care to mention his name either. But despite all the hate in her heart, the withered rose pressed between the pages of Pablo Neruda never lost its vibrant red, the same red of her naturally radiating lips. She would sit by the window facing the south and stare at the ...
As with each breath, oxygen becomes harder to find and the bus driver gives you coca leaves to place in your mouth, you will begin to swing left and right as the mountains begin to reveal their faces. Behind the rocks which hide a mountain, sits a town nestled amongst an array of red, green and brown contrasts. A town which seems to live only off the few tourists that visit it. The waterless river which leads to San Isidro, which still bares energy of flowing water, divides the side of the tourists to the side of the people, who reside in mu...
Submitted to Contest #56
She said a red dress. On valentines day of all days, and I, a nice jacket with a rose in his pocket. How many of us here tonight are living the exact same scenario. I could sit in any of these empty chairs and present myself to the lady in red as her date and they would be none the wiser and my date could mistake me for a random guy sitting in anticipation of meeting his date. It would seem that we all share in our unoriginality as well as our sense of fashion. I can only stand out with my conversation. What am I going to talk about? Hey, wh...
Amanda. I had looked for her all of my life not knowing the features of her face. The contour of her curves came to life through the red of the candles reflecting her leather thighs and waist in the dark of the night. She resembled a sort of demonic princess with a subtle air of innocence which deceived me every time I looked up at her for mercy. Even when she was not in my sights I could feel her close in, like the loudening of a wide pig-skin drum, being beat every couple of seconds until she was close enough to touch my soul through my sk...
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