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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2022
Submitted to Contest #261
The world of Nuoath is no stranger to the conquerors upon its surface, from the current great three of Arkos, Dhaast, and Lady Parine to the previous legends of Benrun the Brutal, the Mad Queen Sadaar, and Gianla of Goch. Amongst the most notorious of these names, the bloodthirsty and seemingly untouchable Ulynder Vadastim is one that will never be forgotten. With each conqueror, though, is their second-in-command that barely receives the same notoriety. Midaul Kannad was such a person, yet his notoriety was nowhere near the infamy of his ki...
Submitted to Contest #260
Miracle. Noun. An event regarded as impossible, attributed to luck or an act of God. A wonder.I was never a gambler. If anything, I was full of doubt, which had led me to miss out on many an opportunity. The women I had a crush upon ended up in the arms of men I considered better than me, the prizes I coveted ended up on the shelves of those I considered smarter than me. I even passed up a few jobs that could have opened doors to higher positions of higher pay, all because I never saw myself as ready to take on such responsibilities.There we...
Author's Note: this is another excerpt from my book series, "Resolution". Here is a legend told by the Kin-Martoln. This legend gives us two lessons, honorable reader. Jask Tobbins, Red Company Commander of the Hard Corps, had been assigned with Rila Estenall, Green Company Lieutenant of the Stampeders, to investigate the reported movement of two forces believed to belong to Bestials and the forces under Supreme Sultan Dahst. While incursions happened between the two powers, neither came near Martoln-home for decades. Sus...
Submitted to Contest #243
This is an excerpt taken from my story-in-development, "Resolution".Upon the world of Nuoath, in the year of the King of the All and Ever Six-Thousand-Thirty-Four, the tense strings between the Bestials and the Children of War were all except broken, but the Bestials of the forests of Anthrine were determined to take the militant country of Martoln even by tooth and claw. Though many a fort had been set between the two, one became pivotal and poignant.Tesdannon, the Crimson Base. An ironic name of potential infamy.The Children of War were re...
Submitted to Contest #232
Author's note: Yes, this is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's "Nevermore"; it is an homage to the author. There's no crow, though.Here is a Man, no longer struttin',The woods await, the silence cuttin',A tree takes light, a sign of glutton,But he starves for a different sight.Solstice arrived, his children screamin'Against a sun that once was beamin'As both arose from an ocean streamin'Oblivious to mortal human might.A Kin to Sun, Man keeps here shinin'While facing Solstice daughter's whinin'.She cuts forth like axes meant for minin'Yet Man stan...
Author's Note: This is another excerpt from the Rilestone stories, one that is a "Part 2" of the "Rilestone: Fullfillment" short story. It has been over a week since the vision came unto Rilestone, one that raised more questions than answers even from those that were older and wiser than him. His parents could not answer for this alleged prophecy, nor his uncles or aunts, nor his cousins or friends. Even the people working at S.U.I.T (Super Uniform Individual Tactician) could only speculate; his friend, Jist, had an idea that it had to...
Submitted to Contest #230
Author's Note: This is more an excerpt from the Rilestone Series in the works. "Thousands shall march, from near and far, Fast held the rumors of war sewn; Kin born from Four, they stay where they are, Graves paved to those they own By the blood of the Morning Star." Rilestone stood up, having kneeled in deep prayer after his training was done. It was his voice, but it had sounded distant. He felt no malevolence, no presence of any sort from an ill being. He quickly smelled the air; no, no brimstone, so no Hellhounds nearby. What about...
Submitted to Contest #228
Author's note: This isn't the most accurate depiction of Arabic mythological lore, it is a liberally creative take."Have you gone to that new garden market downtown?" inquired Lizzy Lonnico."A new garden market? I didn't even visit the old one", Jerry Spinton answered. "It's rather spendy, especially before the winter season.""Oh, no!" Lizzy proclaimed. "Not this one. It's run by a rich family straight from Iran. All the natural fruits and vegetables, no GMOs, no additional sugars or salts, and cleaned to eat. Oh, and the best part, Jerry, i...
Submitted to Contest #225
Chelsea Bonifade was a dirty-blonde, hazel-eyed, nervous wreck. There was no Shakespearian way to put it; a sneeze had the girl run for cover like a live grenade was tossed in her direction. She found solace in books, and yet she would see a library as too crowded for her comfort. If being an introvert could be mathematically cubed in real life, it would be her. A hall of mirrors stood before her, each one illuminated by a light inserted into the ceiling. At the behest of her date, promising that this would help with her anxiety and ne...
Submitted to Contest #224
Lieutenant Stark Denmark opened his eyes from his dreamless slumber and noted the time of day: five hundred hours. First light was barely breaking over the horizon, and he knew he had another hour to present himself before the court. It was his trial, after all. It could very well be his last.The uniform was cleaned, pressed, and awaiting his return. The black shoes were already shined and waxed, smelling like they had not been worn before. He grimaced; those bastards did it again! Menial tasks like keeping his clothes cleaned and polishing ...
Submitted to Contest #221
His house was so quiet. Strange, he thought. At this time, not long after the crack of dawn, his younger children would be running around and giving the attendants a heart attack as he would be swarmed by a couple assistants with messages of importance. There would be breakfast coming up from the kitchen and through his bedroom doors, provided that the children didn't accidentally knock it over again. Even his wife would join in the fray, yelling at the boys to knock off the horseplay while keeping an ear on the daily hustle.Today, though, t...
Submitted to Contest #219
SHHHHHHHH! ...I think someone's listening. Who, you ask? Wait, you ask, how did I know that you would ask? Are you obvious, or am I a mind reader? No, my friend, it is neither. And both. Now, that sounds confusing, but bear with me. I might seem like a character in this short story, and you would be right. But you could also see me as a person, and you would be right again. As for me, I am not really supposed to know that you are there, reading every word that I say or think or even imply with every action or inaction on my par...
Submitted to Contest #215
"Trender's Orphanage. If you aren't familiar with it, that's because it is basically wiped from the media. Hard as they could, though, those fools could not wipe away the blood...or tears." The six-foot-seven-inch lady looked down upon the white-haired boy, a metal staff as his only protection held in his lap. She conceded to his intrepidness, and so kept her custom goalie stick-styled blade down. She also appreciated him not staring at her scars around her mouth, usually covered with a surgeon's mask but for today; she wanted to be un...
Author's note: All ideologies are welcome to enjoy this fictional work. You ever heard the joke about the atheist who made a deal with the Devil? Let's just say he had a hell of a time. All kidding aside, I fear retaliation for telling this story, but I need to warn you all to stay away from the crossroads at the U.S Routes 61 and 49. Yes, in Mississippi. Yes, the same place where Robert Johnson got famous. My name is Trevor Johnson. I happen to be a descendant of that famous musician, more on my mother's side, but please do not ask ...
Submitted to Contest #214
Author's note: These characters are from another series of stories that I am working on; hopefully, the context won't lead to too much confusion. Also, a fair warning of sexual violence as well as regular (and irregular) violence. Birth. Childhood. Life itself. All of these, and what was to follow, were struggles for any normal human being. Atrición envied those normal human beings. For starters, their parents weren't trying to kill him under the semblance of training. That is, when they weren't arguing, killing people, or bangin...
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