Robert Rogers

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

77 karma pts

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“Watchers in the Woods” by Robert Rogers

Submitted to Contest #272

The night was thick with fog, each breath of air heavy and damp as Lucy and Mark wandered deeper into the woods. They had come to escape the bustle of the festival nearby, seeking a moment of solitude among the towering pines. The annual Harvest Moon Festival pulsed with laughter, music, and lights, but the couple craved a quiet reprieve. As they strolled along the narrow path, Lucy felt a strange thrill run up her spine. The trees loomed like ancient guardians, shadows shifting in the flickering light of their flashlights. A gentle breeze r...

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“Maria's Bond with a Village” by Robert Rogers

Submitted to Contest #177

Once there was a small village nestled in the mountains where the people spoke a language utterly foreign to those living in the neighboring towns. Despite their linguistic differences, the villagers had always managed to trade goods and services with their neighbors, relying on gestures and drawings to communicate their needs.One day, a young woman named Maria arrived in the village. She had been traveling for months, searching for her missing brother, who had ventured into these mountains and never returned. When Maria arrived in the villa...

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“The Depression Pandemic” by Robert Rogers

Submitted to Contest #84

Post-Pandemic Puzzle Alright already with all the epidemic chatter, time to zero on our post-pandemic woes. I was a child of the 1950s, still am. As such, I have firsthand experience with what followed our last great nationwide malady. In a word, it has to do with depression. Yup, depression. It’s the elephant on my back, the monkey in my room. It stalks me night and day. Other times, too. I got it from my dad. He was a maniac depressant. Or depressive. And yes, maniac. Unlike lepers, lispers, lunatics, and other misfits who hide what ails ...

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“Student-Teacher Confab” by Robert Rogers

Submitted to Contest #54

“I could be teaching your class, you know.” That’s his opening shot.We settle in a booth at Butch’s Diner, opposite one another on plastic-covered bench seats, and arch our backs as a tray-balancing waitress shakily, with one hand, plops down two mugs of coffee. The diner’s a convenient dozen blocks west of the campus where I teach. Mark, my coffee mate, is a new student, one of a growing number of senior-adult back-to-schoolers. The sun’s just up this mid-November day, and incoming patrons are blowing into and rubbing together their hands.M...

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Author bio

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