Nick Baldino

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023

Stories (17)

17 Stories

245 karma pts

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“The Fist Fight” by Nick Baldino

No one heard the commotion behind McLintock’s tonight. There wasn’t much to see- two drunk guys getting into it over nickel bets at the pool table. One was a heavyset townie. Probably construction, maybe firefighting. Smalltown pride with nothing to lose. The other was me, Bruce Villard. If they had known it’d turn into murder, then maybe there would have been a crowd. But who could have expected that? It...

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“Monarch” by Nick Baldino

You are ten. School is starting. You wait at the bus stop, next to crops of milkweed that are beginning to blossom. Red beetles and monarchs crawl over the spiky pods. You try to catch them, but your fingers are stubby, and they flutter away before you can take ahold. Behind you, there is a steamy exhale as the yellow bus saddles up to the sidewalk. The diesel mixes in with the vanilla sky. You make one last snap at the...

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“The Cliffside” by Nick Baldino

I wish I never heard Ronnie’s words. They come back to me, sometimes, when the moon is low and hangs with that open-eyed stare, the same way the teachers used to stare at us. Ms. Powers in sixth, Mr. Jordan in seventh, the three us in the back with our hornets and chewing gum and wet paper pellets. “We’re going to the Marymount Cliffside.” Benji and I stared through him, trying to avoid h...

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“Fax” by Nick Baldino

FaxTo: Marty Gilbert                                          From: Benny CroftmanFax: 97840Company: Citi BankDate: September 7, 2001Subject: Make me a stiff oneMarty,It’s Friday, I’m 58, and I’m still dogging around like it’s my fir...

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“Watch and Learn” by Nick Baldino

There is an old radio shack, with an antenna sticking two hundred feet in the air, deep in Montana wilderness. It’s the kind one sees on the skyline but never up close. It stands out on the horizon, blinking purple in the night like a dying piece of galaxy. On the ground, pale blue light escapes under the cedar door and onto winter snow. Inside the shack are two gelatinous figures, leaning on swivel chairs. They a...

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“Hummingbird” by Nick Baldino

Jake sits upright at the end of the couch, elbows locked on his knees. He stares past his therapist, out the pale screen of dawn, to a hummingbird that darts between red and purple petunias. “Look,” Jake says. “A hummingbird.” The therapist doesn’t turn. He speaks in staccato. “What draws your attention to the hummingbird?” Jake shrugs. “I haven’t seen one in a long time, that’s al...

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“The Buffet” by Nick Baldino

“What’s on the menu today, boss?” The words are a hiss on the griddle, and he turns to his fry boy, eyes hanging like bloodhounds. “Same old.” It’s all he can manage to say, when his yellowed jacket is buttoned so tight against his skin. A picture appears in his head- Houdini facing a crowd on the Harvard Bridge, iron chains strapped across his chest- and instinctively he digs for a deep breath in the da...

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“Pioneer Dreams” by Nick Baldino

It all happened quite quickly, actually. First there was a snap from ahead. Then, screaming, loud and fierce. It woke Wyatt Slade from his trance of metal shoes and hot sun, and he made his way to the jockey box where Aaron sat attentively. “What was that?” Wyatt said. Aaron looked over. He’d grown so much in those last few years- ridges in his jawline, a speckling of brow...

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“What Goes Around” by Nick Baldino

“Come in, Mr. Leroy.” Jeff Karpinski, lead attorney at Cormac Litigation, stood from his desk and offered his hand. Harold Leroy took it with a close-lipped smile. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Karpinski.” “Certainly, Harold. And may I add that is a lovely tie. Are those rubber ducks?” “Of course, Mr. Karpinski. I’m quite fond of them.” That wasn’t exactly tr...

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“Death of a Boozehound” by Nick Baldino

We’re sitting in a dimly lit warehouse. There are fifteen chairs, three of them vacant, and I drape my coat over one. It’s cold outside, a real Chicago nail-biter, and yet it’s too hot for a coat. My body’s on a fever course. My head is thumping like a loose pumpkin and my hands are dancing between slimy and shaky. I pour a cup of coffee, hoping the thick steam will knock my symptoms, but it doesn’t. I take my seat as Bi...

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“Talking in Circles” by Nick Baldino

“Didn’t we just pass that?” “What?” “That bush with the purple berries. I remember because it was under that tree with the scratched bark.” “Maybe. I’m starting to get scared, Jason.” “You’re scared of everything, Lisa.” “Yeah, but that could be a sign of something ACTUALLY scary. Like a bear or mountain lion.” “Hey, who would win, do you think?” “What?” “If they ha...

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“Lost File” by Nick Baldino

[TOP SECRET] Enhancing Decision-Making Capacity through Implantable Devices: Protocols of Patient and Faculty Management during Prefrontal Craniotomy.Magnus Terkov, Joseph Frackner, Nina Lipell, Cristian NadlerAbstractSince the ascension of Chinese War in 2034, the race for true sleeper-cell agents has been steadfast among multiple government agencies. In this effort, U.S. scientists and engineers convened at Praxford Medical to create an implantable micro...

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“The Chetster” by Nick Baldino

It was just an anatomy test. That’s all it was. Some tenth-grade, end of quarter, name-all-the-bones-in-the-axial-skeleton test. It took me 45 minutes to finish, and then I up and left for lunch. I was walking when I heard him running up behind me, his untied shoelaces slapping on the linoleum. I turned to see what freak was about to blow past me, but he didn’t. He slowed and started walking to my right. ...

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“8 Mississippi” by Nick Baldino

Purple Texas dusk lays flat against the fluorescents, obscuring my view of anything but the brown dirt battlefield before me. Under my legs, the tan, white-spotted beast snorts and chaffs, his eyes vicious in their agitation, his horns sharp enough to do the deed. Only Barley is there to tighten my reigns, although he’s too drunk to be of any help. “It’s bulls and blood,” he sings slurredly as he pull...

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“Ensnared” by Nick Baldino

“I don’t want to be alone.” That was the last message Brad had texted her, and the one that bounced around her head the most. They’d been texting for seven months, and although there were many suspicious texts throughout that time, it was this one that shamed her, that she repeated over and over until its sound was no less familiar than the pop of the van lock or the cold, smooth hand of a stranger. It h...

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