Michele Duess

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2019

Stories (49)

49 Stories

1164 karma pts

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“The Encounter” by Michele Duess

Submitted to Contest #19

Bah damn blasted humbug, thought Susan. She was deep into an early December shift and she was heartbroken. It was the people. These desperate people. She was heartsick from their constant demands for toys. Their anger when she was out of an item. The last woman had literally cried over a flipping doll. Then she swore. It wasn’t at Susan but it hurt all the same. Yeah, she thought, brilliant idea having these brick locations where the cyberbullies could now yell at her in person instead of the online virtual assistant. S...

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“The Proposal” by Michele Duess

Submitted to Contest #18

It was in my pocket and I gripped it, ready to pull it out. Next to it was something I wanted very much to give away. That I should have done sooner but too late now. “Look, my friend. No one wants a fight today.” “You’re about to get one, you Spic bastard.” “Spic? Seriously? There's no need for that. Aren’t you Spanish yourself?” He looked it. Average height, tan skin, and black hair. If I was wrong things could get worse, but I didn’t know how. “Be careful,” Sara whispered....

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“The Troll” by Michele Duess

Submitted to Contest #16

We were warned not to go into the woods. But I did it anyway. I was what they called the black sheep of the family, the one most likely to break the rules. So, I figured I’d live up to my reputation and go. It was getting hard to find game now. The area had been overhunted. Drought had driven off much of the remaining animals. I really had no choice if we were going to eat anything other than vegetables, roots, and berries, and little enough of them. To be honest, I hate vegetables. I have a hard time eating the damned things and then my mot...

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“Comparisons” by Michele Duess

Submitted to Contest #11

“Mom, I wish you’d stop comparing my son to his father. I know you don’t particularly like John and I don’t blame you. But James isn’t him.” “I didn’t say he was,” Jane said, looking at her daughter. Sara sighed, and shifted in her seat. It was morning and they were eating breakfast on the front porch. It was screened in so a cool breeze blew in off the lake. This was an ongoing argument and too early in the day for it. She looked at her mother, a thin woman with gray short hair and thick bifocals. Jane was terribly ne...

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Author bio

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