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Oskar Reiss

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2020

Stories (4)

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45 Followers

35 Following

4 Stories

257 karma pts

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Red Rum

Oskar Reiss

Submitted to Contest #207

‘Cut!’ Leonard shouted, snapping the movie slate shut, dizzy with the relief that comes after the end of a shoot. ‘Thanks so much, Francis, you’re good to go.’ ‘No, thank you, Lenny,’ Francis Keaton replied, shaking Leonard’s hand. ‘I hope we meet again.’ ‘Me too. Good luck with your Nespresso adverts. Where’s Liliana?’ Leonard called out to Travis, who shrugged his shoulders. ‘Travis, you reek of whiskey.’ ‘It’s called method acting. I had to do it all the time for Streetcar.’ ‘Ah! There you are!’ Liliana Hoyt, who ...

36 likes

Straitjacket

Oskar Reiss

Submitted to Contest #206

TW: Violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, abuse and self-harmClick. Krissi Yates pocketed the last of her equipment and squinted her eyes, the way a predator zeroes in on its prey. Oh, come on, she thought, her nervous gaze darting between her watch and the sanatorium door. Impatient, she stood herself at the entrance, which was one of corrugated iron; it was an almost baleful presence, and one that only chose to admit the most intrepid of investigators. Beware ye who enter. Paranormal investigation was n...

35 likes

Friday, 9th November

Oskar Reiss

Submitted to Contest #205

TW: suicidal thoughts, death, gory detailsMadison Rydell put the roses under the faucet, pricking her thumb on one of the thorns. She reached for the scissors and cut off the ends, a sublimation of her desire to do exactly the same to one of her fingers. Snip, snip, snip. Maddie remembered what her parents’ fingers looked like when she found them, each moving with a wet crunch as she prised them from the bedsheets. How incongruously easy, she thought, it would be to chop off her fingers now, the teeth of a plier sinking into her skin. This l...

36 likes

A Tale of Two Halves

Oskar Reiss

I knew death like something scrawled on the back of my hand. Nostrils that once flared at the smell of hot coffee, soon became immune. Ears that once twitched at the sound of inconsolable sobbing, the babble of my aunts fighting over worthless heirlooms, and arguments seeping through the floorboards, soon became attuned. And a tongue, once unfamiliar with all the jargon around death, soon absorbed every word thrown at it: coffin, cremation, funeral. And I never dared to err from this familial instinct to move on. ...

20 likes