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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2025
Submitted to Contest #323
“Give her body to me.”The night security guard held open the glass front doors of the morgue. “Can’t. Rules.” He was a man of his environment: square jaw, square shoulders, breath the acrid combination of ash and damp city street with eyes the brown of filthy brick. His shoulders brushed both sides of the frame as he loomed over the wiry, straight backed woman with salt and pepper hair tied in a bun.Ludmina sized him up. He seemed the angry type; at all the ways he was average, unable to resist overcompensating in the ways he wasn’t. His dul...
Submitted to Contest #320
Memory is a fucked up thing, don’t ya think? It changes and grows like an organic, independent thing. You can remember something, KNOW it, and somehow be gaslit into believing the opposite, through the prosyletizing of another or ourselves. Ever play the game two truths and a lie? Imagine then; its your turn, you’ve given your statements, remembered what you said perfectly, but not which thing didn’t happen. You know one of them is false. But they all feel real now. Think that’ll fuck you up a bit? I’m Dan Kwyk and I was with my girlfrien...
Submitted to Contest #318
CW: Themes of mental health issues and gore. Standard Transference Protocol:Subject enters EDP (Entanglement and Discorporation Pod)Connection established with destination ERP (Enmeshment and Reconstruction Pod)Matter and signal entanglement verifiedNeural pathways mapped to digital landscapeNeural synchronicity with destination verifiedVitals halted to terminate consciousnessForm dissolved into MV (Matter Vat)Recostruction: Form Reconstituted at destination in growth chamberEnmeshment: neural pathways synchronizedVitals restoredSubject give...
Submitted to Contest #317
If you ever see a man sitting on a bench wearing a worn shirt, talking to the air, that’s just me. If you have a moment, say ‘hi’. If you have more, take a seat. Watch some ghosts with me. Sorry. Graveyard humor. The shirt used to have a strange button. It let me go back in time. A surreal symbol was on it. Like an ‘h’ with a crossed top, curved hump, and extended leg. I looked it up once. Close to the symbol for Chronos. But not exact. There are swirls. Squiggles. They change every time uh… Every time it happens. My college girlfriend Syls...
Submitted to Contest #316
“Come on,” Adal said. He had to shout to be heard over the nearby rushing river. “This way.”Dylan hesitated, hugging himself though it wasn’t cold. You’re a grown ass man the voice of his dad said in his head. Shame straightened his back and unfurled his arms. He tromped forward, stomping on soaked branches. “Haven’t been here in years,” he shouted.“Right?” Adal’s smile stretched beneath dark eyes. Growing up, he’d been skinny, frail. Dylan had been an athlete. Some of his physique remained, albeit over a tumorish beer belly. The skinny Adal...
Submitted to Contest #315
“Put his on my tab.”Luca glanced down the bar at the woman sitting eight empty stools away. Normally there’d be a crew of regulars between their seats. She had long, matte black hair that seemed to shun the light and green eyes that gleamed like an animal. Sharp cheekbones. Pretty. Not TV pretty, his wife Ruth would say. The thought made him smell her cigarettes. When Scott refilled his bourbon, Luca lifted the glass and nodded to her in thanks.He didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know.He didn’t know much of anyone.She didn’t say anything.When h...
Submitted to Contest #314
Tanya stared at viewport, actively ignoring the screen. Space was vast. Dark. Their fleet was so tiny compared to the Empty. But not small celestially. She glanced down to the display. Choked back a sob. “Coffee for your burden?” She jerked. Turned. The man was small and frail. Looked eighty but was far older. Tanya didn’t look much better, she was sure. She forced a smile that stretched the crepe paper skin of her face. Felt like it tore. “Yes. Why are you here?” “I can’t sleep.” The bags under his eyes were deep. Whatever sleep issues pla...
Submitted to Contest #311
She leaned against the lonely tree on the hill, bathed in its shade, looking down at the skinny man laying on the ground. In profile, the shape of his face carried echoes of her family, though he wore stained jeans and a leather vest. Skyla rotated her jaw, trying to loosen the persistent ache. To no effect. “Sorry about your dad,” she said. “Okay.” “Okay?” An edge to her voice, more irritation at her shitty opening than his response. He sighed, eyes closed against the sunlight. “Your grandpa used to say Ask the questions you want or for th...
Submitted to Contest #309
The Rite of Care manifests in many ways, the disembodied voice stated, a little wistful, a little smug. Emptiness was a cathedral around the slab of shimmering metal. Trails of red and yellow flowed along runnels leading to indented puckers. The fluid drained with a sucking sound. The slab was clean, surface like mercury. Bring him back There was a false sense of enclosure. It could be felt there were walls that nothing existed beyond. The dark was vast but did not feel empty. Initiating Trauma Protocol. Iteration: ERROR. The slab shimmere...
Submitted to Contest #303
Zeno walked around the black and gold custom chopper. Heat from the sun crushed from above. More rose from the cracked blacktop of the road, suffocating. He wiped road dust from it though more surrounded them for miles in every direction, looking everywhere but behind him. Where she was doubled over. “Fuck em,” Ximena hissed, then vomited into the ratty bushes. He squinted at the buttes and mesas of the desert. “You need anything?” “Just have the water ready,” she growled Grinning, Zeno unlatched the canteen from the saddlebag. A red banda...
Submitted to Contest #302
Malachi faced a brick wall of the dead end alley and whimpered. Not the quiet escape he’d hoped for. As deadends went, it’s graffiti was a poetic, stuffed between a large vein riddled penis and an oblong feminine face with razor teeth in red, green, and white. The REAL thinking begins here This is the End. There are many like it, but this one is mine. We are entwined in a pathless dance. Who plays the tune? Who leads? Behind him approached the stranger who’d hounded his steps for blocks. “Would you look at that?” the man said, chain wrapped...
Submitted to Contest #301
Brad “Beaker” LaRou yanked his face away from the bong and coughed smoke into the room. He squinted bloodshot eyes down at the phone on his coffee table, glass top reflecting his mop of hair and thin head. Nicknamed for his resemblance to the iconic muppet. It chittered along, flashing LISA. He swiped to answer. “Hey babe-” “BEAKER!” The volume was maxed so her shriek tore throught he room. He jerked, dropping the bong and spilling the water over the carpet. Knowing he’d have to scrub the shit out of it or she’d tear his head off, he shrug...
Submitted to Contest #299
There is a great deal I don’t know about the world. About people. Even about myself. That got worse as time passed. I have become forgetful. It happens to a lot of people. It started small; misplaced objects, the day of the week, alarms that I didn’t remember setting. Then missed deadlines. Where I parked my car. Placed my wallet. If I locked the closet. Four times to make sure. Even numbers for even locks: start locked, end locked. Four was a good number. Not too many. Not too few. Silly things. Easy to write off, pretend it was nothing. ...
Submitted to Contest #298
I sat on the floor and stared at you lying on the bed. My back ached from leaning against the wall, arms tingling from resting on my legs. But I don’t want to move. I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you again. Through your frozen smile you say “You have to leave eventually.” My stiff neck creaks as it lifts the boulder of my head. The skin of my cheeks is tight, crinkling from evaporated tears. There were none left to shed. “I don’t want to.” “It’s not about want.” You lay on your back, head turned to look at me. The slight smile that se...
Submitted to Contest #296
To Preserve and Persevere In the sarcaphagal concrete clock room of the tallest building in the city, Detective Christine Ngyuen, wrists and ankles bound by wire that bit into her flesh, stared at the hooded figure. Computers stacked in a corner hummed and buzzed, three monitors showing data in pale blue text. High wall lights cast pale light over the room. A single painting occupied the opposite wall: Saturn devouring his child. “Why are you doing this?” No answer. Ngyuen struggled against the binds. The more she strained, the deeper it b...
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