Menu

Menu

Prompts

Contests

Stories

Blog

Directory

Contests

Magazine

FAQ

Ramona Scarborough

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2019

Stories (15)

Comments

Library

27 Followers

1 Following

15 Stories

285 karma pts

?

A Love Letter from Fergon

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #294

A Love Letter from Fergon John Goodfellow41 Factory RowFergon, 2nd Quadrant, Outer Space5 April 2035 Giselda Blondheim7422 Montague PlaceBeverly Hills, CA My Dearest Giselda, My love, my deepest apologies for not being able to tell you what happened to me. When seized by the FNOG, (Federal Non-Organic Group), no phone calls were allowed. Someone leaked to the government that I was sharing organic produce with our neighbors. Unaware of new laws forbidding the growing and dispensing of home-grown food, this new arm of the government arreste...

4 likes

When My Mirror Spoke to Me

Ramona Scarborough

When My Mirror Spoke to Me I’m nothing like Snow White’s stepmom. I would never poison anybody’s apple. The only thing we have in common is my mirror has been talking back to me. I did not ask it anything stupid like, “Who’s the fairest of all?” I already know I am not. All I did was stumble into the bathroom after a restless night, peer into the mirror, and speak to my reflection. “How did I get this old?” I asked. ...

1 like

The picture

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #167

The Picture Every morning, Anna walked into the painting on her bedroom wall. The warm breeze ruffled the scarf wound around her head. Feathered strokes of Autumn leaves fluttered down around her like a blessing. Slowly, she moved toward the doe standing among the trees. Her sympathetic friend’s large eyes shone, calling Anna like a beacon. Anna’s hand caressed the rough hair on the doe’s back. She leaned her cheek into the animal’s rounded side and felt the gentle undulation of its inhaling and exhaling. Anna sighed in contentment. &n...

4 likes

Grounded

Ramona Scarborough

Grounded A vulture standing over a dead animal ready to pick it to pieces, that bird of prey was my supervisor, May Torgerson. The animal was me. I wasn’t dead yet, but often wished I were while working at that job. I was the new dispatcher at Superior Gateway, a large garage door and security gate company, Miss Torgerson, her preferred manner of being addressed, stood behind my desk chair as I assigned workmen to their jobs. From her vantage point, her keen eyes spotted any mistakes on the schedule. She would swoop down and stick her co...

0 likes

The Bird Catcher

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #142

Stories often give the impression that librarians are mousy and dull. However, as Michael checked out a stack of birding books, the woman at the reference desk reminded him of a pileated woodpecker he had seen once in Forest Park. He doubted she would appreciate being compared to that particular bird, but her hair blazed like the flame red bird’s crest he had glimpsed only once. She spoke with a clipped foreign accent and when she smiled, his heart fluttered as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. He found the book he had been searching for...

9 likes

The Stolen Portrait

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #130

The Stolen Portrait I almost threw the portrait of a young Lenore away. I could tell it was her, but the colors had faded. The paint on the frame had flaked to reveal aged wood beneath. An indistinct signature on the right-hand side prevented me from tossing it into the rubbish bin. I didn’t figure out the connection between the painter and my great-aunt Lenore until much later. Lenore used to tell me, “Darling, I have been everything. I have been an opera singer, a...

11 likes

Before the Play

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #123

Before the Play We’ve been rehearsing My Fair Lady for three months, four days a week, memorizing our lines and songs, practicing blocking and dance moves. The troupe gathered on a weekend to help paint the set the stage manager had constructed. Our costumes have been fitted and hung on a rack in our respective dressing rooms. Today, we will see if all this preparation turns into a successful production. Arriving at the theater, the excitement zings through the cavernous building, actors speaking loudly and laughing, a combination of ex...

20 likes

My Average Family

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #120

My Average Family I have looked at these photo albums many times. But it wasn’t until I retired, that I opened them again and saw the pictures in a whole new light. I came from an average family, or so I thought. Summers as a kid, cars came rolling into our dusty driveway. Relatives poured out and into our spare bedrooms, bellied up to the large dinner table and swam in the creek behind our house. An only child, I reveled in ready-made friends and vacation from school. “Her...

11 likes

The Hawk

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #118

On the day Queen Roseanna gave birth to her first child, she asked Avelina, one of her ladies in waiting, to go to bedroom’s balcony. “What kind of bird perches on my bird feeder?” she asked her. She hoped for her favorite bird, which she thought most like herself, with bright orange and yellow like her royal robes and black plumage the same as her long, shiny ebony hair. If so, she would call her infant daughter, Oriole. Avelina stood at the window for a while but said nothing. “Well? What do you see?” “Only a common house sparrow, my...

24 likes

A Dream Job

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #109

A squat grey building of only twenty-four stories dwarfed by blocks of skyscrapers was not what I expected. However, etched in the stone arch above the front entrance were the words, Institute of Dream Research. I have been hired as an expert in a new specialized field of study. I am an Oneironaut, a person who, while asleep, can be the master of my dreams, almost like a director of a play. This ability is called lucid dreaming. While asleep, some people may have occasions when they know “this is just a dream.” However, most people while l...

12 likes

My Stellar Smeller

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #106

Stellar Smeller I’ve been a model citizen … until now. There is a chance I may end up in jail and my marriage teeters on shaky ground. This fiasco started over almost a year ago. One morning, I stumbled into the kitchen and couldn’t smell the coffee or anything else. I sniffed cut-up onions. My eyes watered, but no strong pungent aroma. As months passed, I couldn’t tell if my deodorant was working, or if my tennis shoes smelled like funky mushrooms. “Pamela,” my husband,...

14 likes

On Pins and Needles

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #95

On Pins and Needles Penelope Jameson pressed her hot cheek against the cold glass jar. It would not be long now. She thrust her stash back into the recess of her closet next to the doll hidden in the cloth bag. She glanced at the clock on her headboard. She still had a half hour to finish the “Perfect Pet” she had started last night. Madeline Pierce, her half sister, would arrive home at 5:45 from her job at the Welfare Office. At her sewing bench, she lifted the furry pupp...

9 likes

Doggone Good

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #72

Doggone Good Eddie tended to drift into whatever jobs were available to pay the rent. He never expected to become a professional at a job few people realized even existed. He stood in line again at the employment agency after he’d been given the sack by Pinkerton Security. His neighbors in the apartment building where he lived had a newborn who cried during the day while he was supposed to be sleeping. On the job, Eddie had just sat down for a couple of minutes and wouldn’t ...

8 likes

Fallen Hero

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #12

Fallen Hero Bert Wick was a war hero in the small town of Prineville, Oregon. When the other old veterans gathered at Vera’s Café, they would brag about Bert’s exploits to out-of-towners and easily impressed young people. “If you want to hear about some real combat, just talk to Bert here.” Even Marla, the pretty, well-rounded waitress, gave him extra respect, “More coffee, Mr. Wick?” If Clifton Gadberry hadn’t shown up, Bert might have preserved his legendary status indefinitely. In Bert’s favor, he looked the par...

3 likes

Along the Way

Ramona Scarborough

Submitted to Contest #6

Along the Way My father hated freeways. Back roads allowed him to gawk and talk. So, in August of 1953, the seven people crammed into our 1949 Wayfarer Dodge sedan rode hundreds of extra miles between Vancouver, Washington and New York City. Small for an eight-year-old, I perched on sweaty laps or scrunched on the floor next to relatives’ smelly feet. A broiler on wheels, our car didn’t have air conditioning. The open windows welcomed unwelcome odors, “eau de barnyard” and exhaust fumes. Invading swarms of man-eating...

7 likes