Sam Goodman

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

66 karma pts

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“Matthew's Smile” by Sam Goodman

Submitted to Contest #81

Matthew was the first person that I laid eyes on when I walked through the rusty doors of my new high school. My father worked for Blockbuster and he was sent around the country to help open new stores. Sometimes he went by himself and other times we piled the whole family into the trusty station wagon and went with him. This time we left behind the warm Florida beaches and travelled across the country to Oregon. I didn’t know a single soul and I certainly did not like the rain that constantly seeped into my bones. Matthew had blonde, cu...

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“Proud at last ” by Sam Goodman

Submitted to Contest #69

“Pull over,” Samara whispered. “What?” Frederik asked. “I said pull over!” she screeched. Frederik jerked the steering wheel to the right, pushing down on the break to guide the car to the soft shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked, nervously and glanced over at Samara. She was covering her mouth with her mint scarf. Her powder-pink hat had dipped down past her forehead and into her eyes, obstructing her view. She didn’t do anything to fix it. In one swift motion, Samara grabbed the handle and swung the car door open. “Samara ...

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“Ronnie” by Sam Goodman

Submitted to Contest #65

“Oh Ronnie, don’t you just look adorable!” Mrs. Jenson cooed. She brushed the faux fur away from his face. She had wriggled Ronnie into an orange-brown lion costume. He stared back at her with his wide crystal blue eyes and pouty lips. “Ronnie are you excited to go trick-or-treating?” Mrs. Jenson said in her soft, high-pitched voice she reserved for her precious boy. Ronnie continued staring at her. He reached his pudgy, dimpled hand to tug at the matted fur framing his face. “Don’t do that dear, you will mess it up,” Mrs. Jens...

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“The unthinkable” by Sam Goodman

Submitted to Contest #64

My eyes fluttered open. I lay very still in the cool, silk sheets. A breeze swept across the room, draping my face with a layer of my hair. I heard it again. Slow, gentle, deliberate footsteps outside of the door. My heart sped up, doubling in pace. Please don’t kill me. The house creaked and groaned with the wind. My ears worked overtime to tune into the footsteps. I prayed they would fade further down the hall and out of reach. The handle squealed. I shot up and covered my bare arms with the silk sheets. The door eased open. ...

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Author bio

Former journalist, current communications writer. Looking to practice my first love - creative writing.