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Robert Martin

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2025

Stories (7)

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2 Followers

10 Following

7 Stories

118 karma pts

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The Glass Summit

Submitted to Contest #322

The Glass Summit Elliot Crane stood before the mirror in the penthouse bathroom, fixing the knot of his tie with a precision that belonged less to habit and more to survival. He had done this routine a thousand times: adjust the tie, smooth the jacket, inhale, exhale, and dominate. His reflection showed a man in his early forties, square-jawed, hair salted just enough to look distinguished, and eyes that appeared to see through all the bullshit. Tonight was supposed to be the crown jewel of his career as his company’s IPO was unveiled. It wa...

7 likes

The Orchard Beneath the Lake

Submitted to Contest #321

There were once rows of trees where the water shines now. The ridge still shows the line of the old road, like a scar. People said the dam was progress. People say many things when they need to fold a loss into something useful.Iris came back in late September, when the aspens flashed and the lake turned pewter. She hadn’t seen her grandmother’s cabin in ten years. The skiff still lay upside down on the rocks, the fishing license above the door still reading MARIGOLD VALE.“Two nights,” Iris told herself. “Clean, sort, list the house. Two nig...

5 likes

Breakfast Served All Day

Submitted to Contest #318

Breakfast Served All Day “I don’t belong here,” Russell muttered before blowing into his nearly frozen hands. It was a freezing day in the city’s lower downtown area. A sharp wind wound its way through the abandoned buildings and nearly deserted streets, scattering the accumulated debris of modern civilization in its path. Russell pulled his tattered overcoat tighter around his shoulders and flipped the collar up to cut the cold that seeped in. He felt in his bones this would be a hard winter. He wished he could be somewhere else—anywhere el...

10 likes

An Unlikely Hero and an Inconvenient Truth

Submitted to Contest #316

An Unlikely Hero and an Inconvenient Truth Sarah Connor grew up with an unfortunate name. Her father, Steve Connor, was a lifelong Terminator superfan. He had DVD (and his original VHS) copies of all the movies, the director’s commentary, an unopened box of Terminator 2 action figures “for investment purposes,” and a custom ringtone that blared “I’ll be back!” at inappropriate moments, such as funerals or staff meetings. Steve desperately wanted a son so he could name him after his cinematic idol: John Connor, future leader of the human resi...

7 likes

The Case of the Misplaced Cookbook

Submitted to Contest #311

The Case of the Misplaced Cookbook Maple Glen, Iowa, wasn’t known for much. It was a typical Midwest town—old, dusty, damp, and friendly. The kind of place where the newspaper still ran a column called Seen Around Town, folks kept casseroles in their freezers “just in case.” It helped that the crossroads was a long, gritty one hundred and seven minutes from Des Moines, give or take a tractor. The town boasted a single blinking stoplight, a diner with world-class rhubarb pie, and a population of just under 1,200 souls, 1,198 of whom had never...

7 likes

The Old Saucepan

Submitted to Contest #307

The Old SaucepanAfter nearly fifty years in the same home, my wife and I were looking for someplace new to live. A bold move, sure—but when the house has held your entire life, you don’t leave it lightly. We did. Over those years and in that house, we raised two children, greeted three grandchildren, and loved eight dogs. We made a mistake when we sold the house during a crappy housing market to buy a fancy motorhome that cost ten times what the house had cost fifty years before. We planned to spend the rest of our lives traveling the countr...

3 likes

What We don’t Say

Submitted to Contest #302

What We Don’t Say “I don’t understand,” she said. Three words. Just five syllables. But they landed like stones on the quiet surface of our kitchen, rippling through everything we hadn’t said in weeks. I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how. Instead, I looked down at my coffee, which had grown cold and bitter, much like us. The fluorescent light above us buzzed in that annoying way, casting a faint halo over her bent head and mine. The kitchen table between us was small, but it exaggerated the gulf that separated us. She waited, eyes looking an...

7 likes