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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020
Submitted to Contest #211
As I stared into the fireplace of my humble home, the embers of the roaring fire and the flickering flames that disappeared into the chimney told the tale of life. Once young and glowing red, burning bright, now old, gliding into the chimney never to be seen again. The fuel burned out, the ash black and used. As I sit pontificating the symbolism of my fire, I take a drag of my last cigarette blowing out fumes. Like the ashes of a fire I survey, I am burned out. I’m out of fuel. I’m an old man read...
Submitted to Contest #175
In my business, we plant a lot of trees so to speak. Plant a lot of trees, dig a lot of holes, and work a lot of nights. This particular time we were engulfed with all three. But don’t feel bad for the departed. He was a bank manager taking from not only my boss but the customers of his bank; charging high-interest rates and skimming a 1% or 2 off the top. He deserved what happened to him. Believe it or not, planting trees is a great way to dispose of bodies. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if 50% of the trees in this development had a body...
Submitted to Contest #174
“Are you the new guy?” My new supervisor was balding, headstrong, and well dressed. “Yes sir.” I stood up towering over him. “Cut the sir crap and follow me. We have a lot of work to do.” I liked him already. Sharp and to the point. Okay old man, I thought, let’s get started. ——————- That was 10 years ago. 10 years ago to the day and I was ready to revolutionize the world. It was like that song “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger, I wish I knew then what I know now. It was a different context of course but the same premise. If I would hav...
Submitted to Contest #163
I was walking to my car in the back alley on the left of the diner when I saw the two soiled, rugged men from before waiting by my truck, smoking cigarettes. It seemed almost cliché and too perfect. Seconds and minutes felt like hours and days walking that back alley, watching them watch me. The rush of imminent violence was invigorating and terrifying at the same time but I was ready. As I walked, I thought how unfortunate. What kind of men can come to such a low as to prey on those of us trying to make the world a better place? I loat...
Submitted to Contest #122
We knew we were in the right place when we pulled up to a Shelby Cobra in the drive-way and what looked like a time-capsule for a house. My business partner, Josie, was unimpressed but he was new to the scene of these types of antiquity situations. It wasn’t an original Shelby Cobra, mind you, but that’s what made it special. When we got out and sized it up, it was signed by Caroll Shelby himself. Once Josie saw that, his eyes glazed over. We were in the right place after hours of searching the L.A. hills. I was excited the second ...
Submitted to Contest #114
A man wanted to know where his creator lied so he could ask him why he would want to hide. The man was mortified because he didn’t know why. He looked for him in the usual spots; behind a boulder, under the rocks. He went inside a cave and even at the believers house they made but couldn’t find the one they call all. He sat to think where to go, where to start, but not for long as the answer metamorphosed easily enough yet dubious to decompose... He jumped, reaching as high as he could to the sky, proclaiming, “The answer is...
Before the pandemic, Frank’s life was easier, and his popularity was gaining traction. His work was getting noticed, appeared in the papers, yet his occupation, his lifestyle was threatened by the newfound plague and attempted to derail his life, much like others lives at the time. To rise to the newly formed challenge he needed to find other ways to not only fulfill his chosen destiny, but his occupation, his lifestyle, or his legendary status would fall to the bellows of obscurity. This could not happen. Frank was already invested; his han...
Submitted to Contest #75
Down the warped industrial urine colored hallway of Shady Acres, through the maze of wheelchairs and medical equipment laid about, past the rancid aroma of feces and ammonia, through the aimlessly wandering patients was Room 237. In that room, a broken man lay waiting for death to come. His dark soul was ready for death; foot in the grave, lifeforce extinguishing, his spirit bellowing for release. This room exhaled depression; the humidifier felt like the regurgitated warmth of a pedophile's wet touch. The broken teeth behind this old man’s...
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