Michael Palmieri

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2024

Stories (26)

26 Stories

406 karma pts

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“Buttons” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #267

“I’m home!” the man called out as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes at the door. “Hi, honey. How was your day?” his wife asked, appearing a minute later. “It was a day,” he sighed. “But I’m home now, and that’s what matters.” A soft sobbing echoed from down the hall. “Is something wrong with her?” the man asked, his brow furrowing as he headed toward the girl’s room. He knocked gently before pushing the door open, finding his daughter lying in bed, pretending to sleep while muffling her tears. “Hey, sweetie,” he said softly, sitting b...

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“From the Shadows” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #266

It was a humid night. I sat out on my back porch, looking out into the yard. I sipped a glass of wine, enjoying the breeze from the fan above. Shadows of people began to take shape before my eyes. Some stood there, doing nothing, while others chatted among themselves or acted out scenes. They all did this to capture my attention because I could take them one step closer to becoming alive. I focused on one of the shadows, a familiar figure I’d spoken to often, though he never appeared the same way twice. Sometimes, he was a young man; other t...

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“Drafted and Doomed” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #266

Cliff woke up and looked around. “Damn it! I’m still here!” he muttered. This was the third time he had woken up at this farmhouse, and he was getting annoyed. Cliff was well aware of who—or rather, what—he was. In moments like this, he hated it. Cliff was the author’s designated main character until the final draft was written, at which point he’d be swapped out for the intended, crafted protagonist. “What was wrong with the last draft?” Cliff yelled up at the sky, as if shouting at a god. He often wondered if the author could even hear him...

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“Vinny's Way” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #265

Vinny stood with his back to the door of his small apartment building. He had his cane in hand, his lucky hat on, and a small suitcase containing his essentials by his side. At eighty-five, a small suitcase was all he could manage. Eventually, the taxi he was waiting on pulled up, and Vinny settled into the back seat. His cane and small suitcase were securely beside him. The driver, a man in his thirties with tired eyes, glanced at Vinny through the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb.“So, where are you heading, Pops?” the taxi d...

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“From Playmates to Soulmates” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #264

There I was, minding my own business, carefully arranging the buildings in my Lego metropolis, when a knock came from the front door. I ignored it, hoping it wasn’t for me, and continued building. I heard the door open, and my heart sank as I heard my mother greet the visitor. “Well, hello, Sophia. How are you today?” Oh no. Not Sophia. “Hello, Mrs. Harper. Can Max come out and play? “Say no, say no,” I silently pleaded. “Of course, dear. Some fresh air will do him some good,” my mom replied, betraying me with a smile. “Max!” she called out...

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“Villain by Bureaucracy” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #263

"Notorious Super Villain Ethereal Spear Strikes Again As He Destroys Prison To Break Out A Man Named Markus Kay!" Lance read aloud, a smirk curling his lips as he sipped his espresso at a small Italian café. "I see you made the front page again," a familiar voice remarked. The sound of a chair scraping against the stone pavement cut through the quiet atmosphere as Bryce Benson, one of the world’s leading superheroes, took a seat across from Lance, his expression a mix of annoyance and begrudging respect. Lance didn’t bother looking up. "You ...

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“Thank you for that” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #261

Dear Jennifer,It’s been years, decades even. I never got a chance to thank you for the impression and experience you left on me, and I wanted to do so now, although I know this letter will never reach you, much less leave the confines of this room, just like the dozen or so other letters I will be writing. I was eight, and you were ten, if I remember correctly. We were in the back of my dad’s pickup with the cab on it. It was the most excellent place to be at the time. We sat there, and out of nowhere, you turned to me and demanded I kiss yo...

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“The Hypnotic Garden” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #260

Entry 1, Aug 1, 17 yrs old.There is a legend I have known since I was a little girl about a magical garden. A garden that, if given the care and affection it required, would, in turn, take care of you and give you beautiful gifts in return. My mother told me it was a place of beauty, and anyone who found their way there would go into a trance and stay for hours. She never told me about the gifts it offered, those I about when I eavesdropped on her conversations with friends. Unfortunately, my mother passed away years ago, and with her went t...

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“Undeveloped Love” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #258

“So, how was your day?” Neil asked his wife Lois as they sat at the table to eat dinner. “It was fine. I finished up at the office early and met Sara for lunch.” “That sounds nice.” “We decided to try out that new café on Birch Rd. I was pleasantly surprised by it. It's a fantastic little place. How about you? How was your day?” “Like yours, I suppose. Only worked half a day and went to the driving range to hit a few golf balls with Ben.” “It’s funny, I was thinking about Ben earlier today,” Lois said. Neil shook his head, “Nope.” “What?”...

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“Shadows of Deception” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #254

Whitman's estate loomed majestically against the night sky, its majestic architecture illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns lining the driveway. As Jane Parker stepped out of the sleek black car, a doorman in a crisp uniform opened the door for her and bowed. She joined the stream of late arrivals, her green cocktail dress hugging her figure perfectly, a striking contrast to her fiery red hair. She entered the ballroom, immediately enveloped by the buzz of laughter, clinking glasses, and classical music playing softly in the background. T...

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“The Remains of Time” by Michael Palmieri

Submitted to Contest #251

Thomas moaned and groaned as his eyes fluttered open, waking up to start another day. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face, feeling the rough stubble on his cheeks. With a sigh, he made his way to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and flinched at the reflection staring back at him. An old man, weary and lined with age, gazed back. “When did I get so old?” he murmured to no one in particular. After freshening up, Thomas dressed in his usual attire—a comfortable shirt and trousers—and exited his room. T...

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