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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022
Submitted to Contest #138
Josh Whitham, glazed, corners of his waterlogged coat stained with sticky dust, collar turned inside out and hair unkempt, stared at the rusting, swollen, quivering, nervous, bewildered thing sitting in the west corner of the warehouse. The thing that once symbolized fineness and the last glow of youth twenty years ago was now as hoary and old as himself. Most of all, he didn't know if he had the courage to plunge into its icy jaws again, now he was going to do this alone. He wondered whether it would be an exit to liberation or a coffin to ...
Submitted to Contest #137
"Long time no see, Mr. Vence. Is there anyone I can hook you up with?" A well-mannered gentleman approached Kennis. "What a coincidence, Eck. I didn't expect to meet you here. Sure, if it's no trouble. I'm right now feeling a little lonely,” answered Kennis. He looked at the other man: Eck Vincennes, from Strasbourg, was a classic self-made man who was extremely concerned with appearance, even on the beach. "It's all right, Kennis. It won't happen again like last time." With that, a third man – a stocky man with prominent cheekbones – ...
McTague poked half his head out of the bushes. He had run out of ammunition and had lost his haversack for four days since he was first hunted by the Apaches, and was in danger of going dehydrated. He surveyed the jungle with his tired, swollen eyes, opening as wide as he could. There were no arrows or red marks on the cypress trees. It appeared that the hunters had not been here. He walked up the open plateau, wrapped in his ermine coat, trying to make a fire to keep warm. Just then he heard something whiny. Fifteen years ago, McTague...
Submitted to Contest #134
The snow was covered with his blood, like roses in frost. Around the corner, the din of Sharkmen with axes echoed through the misty haze. Not far ahead lay the ruins, interwoven with boulders, covered with gray snow like crisps. As his breathing grew louder, he felt his lungs overflow with boiling blood; he pulled his dagger from the bottom of his boot, hurling it. Hearing it land on the iron staircase, Aster charged at the other side of the ruins. He leaped over the wasteland and caught the blood dripping his lips with the hem of his g...
Submitted to Contest #132
"Are you there, God? It's me! … Look at me! Recognize me! It's me, your…! …The whole of me! This broken me! …The one you've always forgot… to hurt too bad!" I watched from a covert corner as the man with his shirt off growled into the sobbing leaden firmament, while coping with the drastic convulsions of the ship. The storm made it impossible to keep eyes open except for a slit or take a step out the deckhouse. But I didn't want to leave. The man, the insurance salesman who had wasted forty years practicing the perfect regular life he had ...
Submitted to Contest #130
The Locked Door Nick Cevennes Autumn 1891, London, England. Litchfield Dimitri collapsed on the bed as soon as he got home. Finally, he decided that, he was in deep aversion with this life, this repression, this silence, the stench of engine oil he smelled when the sea breeze found him along the sunless streets, and his attitude towards this life, this repression, this silence. He took off his black bowler hat with its bent brim and hesitated to put it over his face to blind him from the sickening pale yellow light. Hours passed by as he...
Submitted to Contest #129
Out of the darkness a man with a belt walked slowly toward another dark corner. The man's steps were heavy and sluggish. His vision was blurred, his eyes clouded with blood and tears. He knew he shouldn't have done it, as the blood left marks of regret through the dust on the attic floor. He leaned into the gloom as if he were the one to be feared. Soon there was a piercing howl, as continual as if someone had been rubbing his arteries with a dull knife. The crying went on for nearly two hours, until it finally stopped. A desultory sob repla...
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