P. T. Golden

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2022

Stories (15)

15 Stories

336 karma pts

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“Body, Mind, Spirit.” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #221

The living listen to the dead about as well as the dead listen to the living. Sometimes, as in my case, the communication channels become even more challenging. When the living seek to communicate with the dead, they only hear what echoes remain in their minds. When the dead try to communicate with the living, their whispers are like the wind, flowing unnoticed. I, on the other hand, remain between these states. My body may lie beneath the ground in a state adjacent to death, and my untethered spirit howls for mercy...

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“Christmas Canoe Escape To Amawbia” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #178

The real-time escape of a would-be scammer began on Christmas Eve. (Names changed to protect the innocent under threat of death.)Two AM, December 29, 2022, in the darkest snake-filled bush in Nigeria, a would-be scammer fled for his life from his worst mistake. Chijoke had lived in the bush alone since he was ten. At fourteen, just weeks ago, he had joined one of the most expansive gangs in the region. Chijoke moved stealthily through the bush till he reached a path and took off at an all-out run. ...

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“Lots Of Love-A True Story About A Magical Decade In The Crack Hood” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #175

They called it the gut; the waist pile spewed out of the bottoms. Cratered, crumbling sidewalks, and cracks full of clovers, the treacherous terrain banished pedestrians to the streets.I had only gone there once before that day. It did not go well. A child no older than ten years old pulled out a gun.That was then, and this was now. Blight and decay's momentum altered magnificently on the cusp of the new millennium. The RNC brought hundreds to the hood, where they made puppets for the protests in the ol...

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“The Choices We Made Again And Again; A Poem That Only Ends When You Let It” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #174

Chronicles multiple years of mass shootingsThe choices we made again and againTen bodies hit the floorEight more the week beforeOn the job, or out buying foodAll it takes is to die, is a bad moodAt the movies, in your churchesIt all started with a purchaseA gunFor funOr defendA friendEmotionLeads to motionTwitching fingerIs the bringerOf deathAnd bereftBlack and brownHit the groundLives cast aside

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“The Pure Light Possession - Baku Autu” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #169

Content warning- a fictionalization of legitimate religious beliefs to create a unique Samhain experience. I apologize to all Haitians and the entire Vodou/Voodoo/Hoodoo community for my many inaccuracies. No kittens were harmed in the production of this story."Leave me alone. I know you are following me." Shadows wrapped in shadows shifted subtly. "Witches got to die. I read it in a book."The darkness around Emmanuel Jean-Baptiste moved gracefully and stealthily. Shadows in darkn...

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“Defiance Station” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #168

Content warning: this was written 24 hours before the drone attacks in Ukraine.Tomb-like darkness embraced the city streets. Flashes of outgoing anti-missile fire illuminated the broken skyline. The car raced, dodging the many craters and molten debris."God, please, just get us there safely!" Daniel Devaile held his wife Maria's head in his lap; hunched over her, he peered over the edge of the window, his finger exploring a bullet hole in the door. "American? Don...

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“Last Train To Davos” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #168

The grime on the glass from a thousand greasy fingers distorted the dismal scene outside. "Can you believe people used to breathe that stuff? It's so thick I can't see; that is a city, isn't it?" Thomas spoke to nobody in particular.The woman in the aisle seat wiped the sweat from under her numerous chins and grunted, pointing at a red dot moving along a line displayed on a digital map. Paris, it said. Faint shadows hide in a dark thick swirling smog."Have you ever been there? I heard it was beautiful o...

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“Run Loser Run” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #167

Triggers: severe mental health, suicide, implied not explicit abuse, trauma, grappling with reality.The sidewalk I slept on screams at me, mocking me. The trashcan I search for scraps in to satiate my grumbling belly threatens to expose my secrets. I repeatedly slam my palms into my forehead, trying to stop the echoes.The lamppost won't stop laughing. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," I repeat uncontrollably, twitching, recoiling from unseen attackers surrounding me. I feel their tiny hands digging around...

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“The biological, electrically chemically charged organism known as human.” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #167

Have you ever driven across the country with someone and felt you had to watch their every move? How many times have you thought, "put your blinker on," "turn off your high beams," "slow down," or "speed up"? Maybe you never drove across this big beautiful country that sparks your imagination, sense of adventure, and wanderlust. Even on shorter trips, perhaps you had these thoughts again and again without the sparkling s...

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“Atonement” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #166

I quit; I quit it all. Not just my job, no, far, far more. I resigned from chasing dreams and wanting more. I had plenty, more than any deserved. All of it is dirty. Filthy with the blood stains from unfathomable numbers of deaths. First things first: call the bank. "No, you heard me perfectly clearly. Freeze all my assets, even from me. Ten percent a year for the next ten years, you will donate to the list of foundations that I will text you. Yes, until it is all gone." I had three hundred dollars and eightee...

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“Blank Resume” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #166

My work history began as many had under sixteen: Dishwashing, gas station attendant, fast-food, landscaping, and house cleaning. I worked my longest job in a greenhouse, over a hundred degrees in winter. Albert was in charge of spraying the chemicals. His hands were stained blue and lacked any fingernails. He acted insane, and rumors were he stirred the toxic brew with his hands and huffed the fumes. He retired at 28. Most likely to a mental hospital or perhaps even hospice. I was 'promoted' to his job the next day--with no inc...

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“It Was Them” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #165

"Sir, would you like to comment on the FBI's findings?" Jessica thrust her microphone forward incessantly."Who let you in here? You know you are all liars. Yeah, I'll comment. It's a sham. How do we even know they were after me? Maybe they were after you? You are the corrupt ones!" Spittle splattered on his lapel pin. The Seal of The President of The United States, Became just a shiny spittoon."Sir, these allegations are serious. Do you care to offer a serious comment?" Jessica pressed him for more....

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“Welcome Homeless” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #164

Contains sensitive subjects. Complex issues with homelessness and implied not explicit abuse. Also contains war trauma.When Bob Marley sang “cold ground was my bed last night, rock stone was my pillow,” he was wealthy, but with the humbleness to sleep on the ground with “Rockstone” (now a monument) as a pillow. A pillow of any sort would be a luxury beyond my means. The cold ground, this night feels harder than ever. The rough pattern of pavement etched into my raw back. Struggling to sit upright felt like flesh peeled f...

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“Anti-intelligent Species” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #164

”Where I come from no longer exists. The last time I saw my home, there was nothing much left but ash.” Speaking about it was painful. Urgency however diffused the traumatic nature of the discourse and required the story to be imparted.My quivering voice may have exposed my apprehension. The small group gathered to hear my warnings and fidgeted nervously. While I had their full and undivided attention, their eyes were averted, as if meeting my gaze they too would share in my pain. C’est la vie. Some experiences can only ...

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“Dreams of Cloudbase” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #164

Connie Cullen had dreams. Dreams dashed upon the rocks. The same rocks that shattered her spine, leaving her ‘confined’ to her wheelchair. Confined is not a word by which she wished to be defined. Her dream was to be unbound by everything that dragged her down. Unbound by the force of gravity, set free to touch the sky. Quite simply, she had dreams to fly.Irv and Mary Sobel are an extraordinarily loving couple. Irv had one first love, however, a love he nurtured from the age of five. As soon as Irv could walk and talk, h...

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Author bio

Writer since birth. Literally inherited it somehow. I got all three names from two writers in the family tree, whose writings affected history. One gave his life for his writing. I do creativity coaching, I am a disabled glider pilot, and passionate about many causes. Lifelong volunteer. My collection of short stories, “Ban The Taboo Vol 1” was published on Halloween. For updates and ebook giveaways see: https://www.authorptgolden.com Writers are invited to join our small pool of unleashed minds on: http://www.ourgildedpen.com/ I am on the board of this inspirational disabled aviation (soaring) organization: http://www.freedomswings.org/