Sam Wilson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022

Stories (5)

5 Stories

129 karma pts

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“The Trip to Verdad” by Sam Wilson

Frank couldn't remember the last time he ran so fast. Thick brush grabbed at his ankles as he raced toward what he believed to be the edge of the forest, back to the gravel parking lot below the buzzing neon sign outside Lillies Diner."I have to get to Caroline," He pleads out loud as if someone will hear him through the dense trees.He whimpers as he trips over a gnarled root and staggers along. His shoes are now heavy with caked mud. He braces his hands on his thighs. He pants big breaths of damp air a...

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“New North” by Sam Wilson

Gravity separation is the idea that two items can be separated by weight, using gravity as the filtering factor.The idea that a soul weighs twenty-one grams has always seemed a bit foolish to me. However, the soul must have mass, and our souls must weigh the exact same, down to the milligram, because there’s no way I can imagine we would have found each other if not for the gravitational separation. Everyone else had been filtered out from the world, and we went colliding into each other like atoms in a molecule bound fo...

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“Downstate ” by Sam Wilson

“Would you rather know when you’re going to die or how you’re going to die?” Cole quizzes me.He’s white knuckle gripping the steering wheel of his car and staring ahead through the cloudy windshield. He glances sideways at me, green eyes darting in my direction before returning to the road.The radio’s been off for over an hour. The only thing I hear is the low hum of the engine. The sun is sinking lower in the sky as we make our way downstate. I stare out the window at the passing trees, blurri...

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“A Strange Encounter” by Sam Wilson

A grimace spreads across his face as he glances down at his watch. It's half past six, and he meant to meet Cecelia thirty minutes ago. Harold's eyes dart out of the window and then back to his wrist. He hopes if he stares at the watch long enough, the hands on the clock might start moving backward.The number six bus skates downtown. Harold closes his eyes and sighs as he bumps along."This bus never runs late," Harold thinks, opening one eye to glance outside again.The street lights fl...

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“The Morning Ritual” by Sam Wilson

Every day the kitchen window sill fills with the water-colored light of damp dawn. The brass kettle whistles with a high-pitched whine. The sound personifies my inner monologue as I grip the handle with a shaky hand. This tray of tea is not being prepared for only me. This offering of hot, inky water, is a gesture of my goodwill. “With milk?” I suggest staring into the hazy bedroom from the threshold of ...

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Author bio

Sam Wilson lives in the Midwest with a bunch of houseplants. By day, she works as a creative director specializing in experiential design. Her professional career is driven by helping people tell their stories in both visual and spatial ways. By night, she is finding new ways to tell her own stories.