Mike Rancourt

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2023

Stories (6)

6 Stories

84 karma pts

?

“Rootbound” by Mike Rancourt

Submitted to Contest #255

“Today, I take Texas!” Antoine said, deepening his voice to adopt the bravado of a confident athlete predicting victory.Carolina laughed and watched his dread locks swing side to side as he hopped on his shitty, fifty-pound mountain bike and worked the pedals in that exaggerated, jumping-up-and-down, grunting way he always did to get a chuckle out of her.“No pain no gain!” he called back over his shoulder.He could pass as a jock with his broad shoulders and muscular frame—and those calves—but Carolina knew that was only a millimeter deep.“St...

Read story

“Chill Hours” by Mike Rancourt

Submitted to Contest #234

Chill. Two months ago, there was no such thing as chill, not even the memory of chill. Everything was sweat and fire. Maybe you could say there were “bone-chilling” things you witnessed as society broke down—your neighbor dragging her husband’s corpse from their apartment, children begging for water in the sizzling streets. And that was just Worcester, of all places. They say the bigger the city, the worse ...

Read story

“New Year’s Eve, 0” by Mike Rancourt

Submitted to Contest #231

Sarah was aware of the absurdity that it was New Year’s Eve, and while she was on the precipice of a new year, she was also literally hanging on the precipice of a cliff. She was clutching a young pine tree like a cartoon and very much in danger of tumbling two hundred feet to her death. That little pine was only about three inches in diameter, but the roots—a couple inches of which were now exposed—must have been...

Read story

“A plate of doughnuts” by Mike Rancourt

Submitted to Contest #228

Gramma coughed a lot those days. I guess we all did, but I remember her most of all. She’d always be hacking into her handkerchief, and when she finally made it through one of the bad fits, her cheeks would look hollow and her eyes sunken. She was only in her sixties, but something in those terrible coughs left her looking ancient. I could see her deteriorating. Gramma is what I remember most about that last day...

Read story

“Reflection” by Mike Rancourt

Submitted to Contest #225

Bing-Bing. Gina had just marked the delivery complete and returned her device to her vest pocket, but this wasn’t the chime confirmation she’d expected from Untapped APPetite app. It took her a second to realize it was the alert from Untapped TherAPPy. She tensed in anticipation, stopped dead in her tracks. She opened the app and cursed her lagging device. “Hi, Gina. I’m Mariela (Untapped TherAPPy ce...

Read story

“The peel-back” by Mike Rancourt

Submitted to Contest #223

Rot—technically Greg Rot, or technically Greg Hargrove, but legally just “Rot” since 2001, known in the nineties as “Human Rot” to some. Forty-seven, skeletal, sunken cheeks, spiky graying hair, neck tattoos, sleeves, black Crass logo T-shirt (without the band name), tight black jeans. “Have a good weekend, Professor Rot.” “You, too Lindsey.” It seemed like all his students were soccer players for so...

Read story

Author bio

Part-time rhetorician, as-of-yet-unpublished novelist, caregiver, minimalist surfer (no board, so, pretty much a wave splasher). San Diego.