Michael Jefferson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2022

Stories (149)

149 Stories

2899 karma pts

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“The Day’s Not Over Until I Get Hit On The Head With Another Boat” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #194

“It’s simple, really, all you have to do is fall.” If there is anything Brick Boylan had learned from working in three films with self-absorbed sixty-eight-year-old director Desmond Ford Wilder, it was that Desmond viewed stunt people as disposable and their contributions to film as negligible. The portly director with the bad toupee called people bubala and acted like everyone’s favorite jolly uncle, but Brick knew Desmond would sacrifice his family for a good take. Brick has broken thirty-five bones, including six ribs, had twelve concus...

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“That Man’s Too Ugly to Be My Child” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #193

“Maybe I should have ordered an Uber,” Andy Grech says, as the snow begins to fall harder. The stocky bass player bites his nails as he gets into a white Monte Carlo SS. “I hear these cars are really bad in the snow.” “Not if you’re an expert driver like me,” Niko Neary replies. The spiffy high school teacher fancies himself an expert on everything, including the oncoming blizzard. Zipping up his Canada Goose parka, he pulls his warm wool cap close to his ears. He views the trip as an adrenaline rush, a way to show his superiority, this t...

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“Mister Moonlight” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #192

“Well, another crackin’ solution for a franchise in trouble, Ringo,” Hollingsworth McVey says, slapping Ronin “Ringo” Ryland on the back. Ringo drops his head, his Beatle-esque hairdo covering his sad brown eyes. “I wish we could have done things differently.” “No other way, duck,” Hollingsworth replies in a pert English accent. “In order to turn a profit this year, Bell, Book, and Candle had to close most of their stores. Who in their right mind opens up a hundred and seventy-five new age stores anyway?” “Closing a hundred fifty of them ...

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“Bedford Sty ‘Till I Die” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #191

Laura Kilgore opens the door to the palatial mansion she shares with her husband, heavyweight champion Kellin Kilgore. Pierre Cerdan takes off his beret, smiling sheepishly as he steps inside. The anxious manager can already feel himself starting to sweat. “It’s been two months. I think it’s time Kellin did an interview. How are you doing, Laura?” “Coping.” “Thank you for doing that piece for 60 Minutes. They used a lot of past footage of Kellin, so it was like he was being interviewed live too. You made him look very sympathetic.” “I wa...

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“I Can’t Spend Money I Ain’t Got Yet If I’m Dead” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #190

Chugwater, Wyoming 1888 The three riders stare silently as Micah Tomlin’s ramshackle home catches fire. “Think anybody’s gonna see the smoke?” Harmon asks. “Nope. You and Jumbo are my closest neighbors. The others hate me too much to care.” “Never get in bed with a lawyer,” Jumbo says. “You tryin’ to be funny, Jumbo?” Pulling his soiled hat down around his grey eyes, twenty-six-year-old Harmon Jones looks away. He won’t miss Micah’s wife, Enid, any more than his cousin will, but their partner, Jackson St. John, treated Harmon squar...

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“Three For the Gallows” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #189

Lacing his thumbs in his vest over his ample grith, Terra Nova’s ambassador, Alek Ivanov, paces in front of the desk of Prime Minister Rixon Windgrave. “These three individuals have been designated war criminals,” Alek says. “Their convictions will show the citizens of Terra Nova that their type of violence will not be tolerated in your government’s new order.” “That’s why I want the war trials held in Terra Nova,” Rixon replies, speaking on behalf of Nova Prime, victors in the recent war against Terra Nova. After six years of war with mil...

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“Dead and Alive in Paris” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #188

“What’ll it be? New York? London? Maybe that little cottage you two rented in Montauk the second year you were married?” Joshua asks enthusiastically. “Bristol, Rhode Island,” Tucker Tiempo replies. Joshua crosses his arms over his Giorgio Armani suit. “Again? You have so many wonderful memories. You only have one trip left and you choose to relive the moment you met your wife in college – for the tenth time.” “That moment never gets old,” Tucker replies. “Besides, this has all been about seeing her again.” “So, it has,” Joshua says indi...

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“Cat Me If You Can” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #187

“I came as quickly as I could. I’m really sorry.” Cotton Clayborne looks up at Kirk Chapman, his eyes hollow with worry and fear. Clayborne hooks his thumbs in his bib overalls, shifting his oil-stained CAT cap. “You know I want to help, Kirk. I’m a patriot and a veteran like you, and I want to win the war against Zirconia. But she’s a threat to the safety of my family, and that goes beyond the call of duty.” “Where is she?” Clayborne grimaces as if he’s reliving a horrific memory. “In the barn.” “Again, I’m sorry. I know she didn’t mea...

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“Your Trunk is Leaking” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #186

“Roll the carpet to your left… Your other left…” “This guy’s a real porker, Johnny, who is he?” “Pasquale Pappalardi, also known as Fat Pat. One of Salvatore Manera’s top enforcers.” “We bagged him too easy.” “Most men don’t carry guns in the shower, Dante.” “So, the war over control of the Bronx has begun and we drew first blood. Nice.” “Did you pick up the spent shells?” “Yeah.” “Did you wipe down the bathroom, the front door, and any place else we may have touched?” “Yeah. I know what to do, Johnny.” “Is this the first man you’v...

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“You Left Me Behind” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #184

Dell Creason looks around the infield, focusing on Hobey Clarke, his third baseman. He intuitively knows that in 1974, only four years away, Hobey will die in a skiing accident. Dell wants to tell him, but he believes nothing can change Hobey’s destiny. Dell goes into his windup, striking out his eleventh batter. The crowd cheers, responding to his pitching a no-hitter and a perfect game as well, something an eight-year-old shouldn’t do. Fifteen little leaguers have come to the plate and eleven have struck out. News of what Dell is doing ...

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“The Beer Sitter” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #183

“Man, even the I.R.S. would laugh at my bank account,” Casey Cassidy laments as he checks The Mean Fiddler’s receipts for a second time. The forty-three-year-old restaurant owner runs his hand through his generous mop of dark hair, worrying how much longer it will be before it starts falling out. Wiping his sauce-covered hands on his smock, Cisco Soto comes out of the kitchen. The wall-eyed cook looks at Casey apprehensively. “We makin’ any money, boss?” “We’re so far in the red I should be callin’ you comrade.” “So, no?” “We’re an Irish...

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“I’m Getting Pretty Tired of Getting Knocked Out” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #182

The slot machines seem to clang “goodbye, sucker” in unison as Chick Goldsby stumbles toward the casino’s exit. He nearly plows into a cocktail waitress. The stunning blonde gives him a bright smile, saying, “Tough night?” “The house always wins.” Reaching into her costume, the waitress hands him a silver dollar. “It’s lucky. It helps make empty lives worth living.” “Great, I’ve lost my girl, and my motivation and the real estate market in Nevada is tanking,” Chick replies. “It’s a pleasure receiving a gift from a woman whose beauty riv...

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“Drop That Dwarf” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #181

The annoying ring of the telephone stirs Vanessa Akin from her sleep. She curses under her breath as her husband, Trey, rolls over, groaning. “Well, are you going to get that?” she asks. “You know it’s for you.” Trey reaches for the phone, nearly knocking it off the end table. Smiling apologetically at Vanessa, he wonders when she’d cut her luxurious midnight black hair into a bob or when the circles under her once sparkling eyes had begun to dominate her looks. Glancing down at his stomach, he ponders where the extra pounds he’s carrying ...

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“Heads I Win, Tails You Lose” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #180

Town of Torrington Wyoming Territory 1882 Gower Gaston races down the sidewalk, his boots clomping against the sidewalk’s wooden planks, his spurs jingling out a frenzied beat. Rushing through the door of the Marshal’s office, the tousle-haired young deputy points at the cover of his dime novel shouting, “It’s him! It’s The Preacher!” Marshal Myles Gaston adjusts his specs, looking at the cover of “Say Your Prayers… The Preacher’s Coming,” which depicts a well-dressed dandy brandishing a pair of smoking pearl-handled guns. The pair step o...

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“Everyday is Christmas” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #178

“Whooo hooo!” Mark Malarky exclaims, the six vodka tonics in his system making his feet lighter than air. The well-dressed bank loan officer nearly stumbles into a petite, bundled up woman staffing a Salvation Army red kettle. She rings her bell loudly next to his ear. “Must you do that?” “Just making sure you’re awake, buddy. You almost crashed into my kettle.” “Heaven forbid I knock over your pot,” Mark slurs. “Now, if you had some stew in there, or some clam chowder…” “It’d be a waste on you, buddy. You’d just puke it back up. You’v...

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