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Michael Jefferson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2022

Stories (158)
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56 Followers
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158 Stories

3110 karma pts

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Dead and Alive in Paris

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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God May Be Tone Deaf But I’m Not

Submitted to Contest #177

Connor Crosswhite flashes a toothy grin as he passes Hattie the receptionist, who puffs up her posture hoping the rock god will notice her. Whipping off his sunglasses, the tanned, trim, thirty-three-year-old Brit-born lead singer of the band THC breezes into Rollin’ Records’ conference room like a swashbuckling pirate. “Well, if it ain’t his nibs,” Amp Steele, the group’s bass player teases. “How’re things in paradise?” “Living in Monaco is like being in Disney World every day.” “Wouldn’t know, mate,” Amp replies. “My checks are much sm...

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The Purple Scourge

Submitted to Contest #176

Colette, Calisto’s seventeen-year-old apprentice, straddles Mazie, Castle Hogue’s prize pig. “Hold her steady,” the young magician says, waving a bowl in front of Mazie. Grunting, the oversized pig licks at the contents of the bowl. “All right, release her.” Colette steps away from Mazie, giggling as the pig wanders drunkenly around her pen. “Looks like your potion packs a punch,” the attractive brunette says. “The question is, will it work?” Mazie suddenly nosedives into the mud, dead. “Well, we know it kills,” Calisto says. The pai...

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Mr. Charm and Mr. Scrambled Eggs

Submitted to Contest #175

Blake Best skillfully spoons a hefty portion of scrambled eggs onto a veteran’s plate. “Thank you for that.” “What?” “Giving me a little extra.” “You look like you could use it today, Terry,” Blake says. “You keeping up with your appointments?” “Yes, sir. I go to an AA meeting every afternoon. Tomorrow I’m goin’ for my glasses. Thanks again for settin’ that up. You’re a good man, Blake. This place used to be empty. Since you were made liaison to the Director, this place has become the top vet’s club in the county.” “How about some bac...

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The Brawl For It All

Submitted to Contest #174

Eric Monarch chafes at the first question. “Shouldn’t this fight have taken place five years ago when both fighters were in their prime?” The promotor grins, the jewel in his front tooth gleaming against the lights, his spikey grey hair standing straight up like a forest of exclamation points He is not about to let his press conference get out of hand. “I should have married Christina Hendricks five years ago, but she wasn’t available. You gotta do these fights when the warrior's schedules free up. Carlos Madrid, ‘The Lion of the Pro...

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By the Colour of Your Dreams

Submitted to Contest #173

Lyric Bass blows the steam off her mochaccino. “Are you still looking for the right song for your advertising campaign?” Brice Bass closes the lid of his laptop. Taking off his glasses, he rubs his tired eyes. “Yeah, nothing seems to fit.” “What about Derry Dalrymple’s ‘By the Colour of Your Dreams?’ Great song. Great album. It’s very sentimental and sad yet uplifting at the same time. I think it fits because you’re selling the idea of a theme park where fantasies come true.” Brice’s boyish features brighten. “That’s perfect! And I love...

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Achtung, Baby

Submitted to Contest #172

One sentence, “Will you marry me?” might have made me a happy, responsible man. Unfortunately, at the time I should have said it, I was hardly responsible and more horndog than man. I got swept up in the false image of being a player who walked into bars with three or four stunning nannies on his arm. I wanted all of them, but I really only needed one - Ilka. Now, thirty years later, I’m alone, unable to remember the sound of her voice or the touch of her hand. The irony is we never should have met in the first place. I was forty-four...

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