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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020
Submitted to Contest #75
At cocktail parties, I’m often asked what exactly it is I do and my response is always the same – that I help people to leave their old life behind and to start a new life. “Oh, so you’re a shrink,” some would say. “Well, I suppose in a certain way I am,” I would say. “Or are you some kind of guru or mystic, who lives in an ashram in India?” they’d ask. With a drink in one hand and a smoke in the other I’d say, “Well, let me tell you then.” And so, like that I’d begin to explain what it is I do. But first I’m always careful to look around...
Submitted to Contest #68
The sun was just emerging over the mountains, with the light turning from a light blue florescent to bright pastels of blue, green and brown, when I heard her stirring in my tent. I was standing outside, crunching on a pear, with a small container of yoghurt in my left hand. I smiled. “Come look at the sunrise,” I said to her (Catarina was her name), in hushed tones so as not to wake anyone. The other tents were quiet. So, I suppose we were the first up. The idea had been to wake early so that we had time enough to make it on foot to the ...
Submitted to Contest #64
It happened like this. Jon Dooks was making dinner at home in his third-floor apartment. He got around on a wheelchair just fine. It had been perhaps 30 years since the accident and by now he was quite used to living on his own, even though at times he wished he had someone there to cook and care for him. Not a maid or a mother (who fussed over him whenever she visited) but a young beautiful woman. Dooks, you could say, had just about given up on ever finding one. For people like him, he thought, you had to be grateful that you were just ali...
Submitted to Contest #59
We were descending into another world, as our bus steadily made its way down a mountain pass. From high up on a ridge, a canopy of green stretched out before us. We had left behind a dry savannah-like plateau and were now entering the temperate rainforests of Patagonia. Beside me sat a German girl who’d climbed aboard the small 32-seater bus in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, with nothing but forest for miles. From the window of the bus I had watched as the bus driver helped her stow her large backpack in the luggage compartment b...
Submitted to Contest #57
Have you ever wondered why there’s a pomegranate in Salvador Dali’s painting “Sting Caused by the Flight of a Bee…”? You know the Spanish artist? I’m sure you’re familiar with the picture I’m talking about, or maybe not. After all, it’s pretty complex to explain (that’s perhaps why you don’t remember it as well as say those warped watches and time pieces in the most well-known of his paintings, “The Persistence of Memory”), so let me describe it to you. Right slap bang in the middle (well okay, a little towards the bottom) there’s a naked ...
Submitted to Contest #56
I hadn’t seen Vuyo Batanda in years. We’d worked together some time back in the same law firm, but somehow had fallen out of contact. The guy would make you laugh, just seeing his big smile. He had a presence about him. When he walked into a room, everyone felt it. It was perhaps true to say, like most people who knew him, that my life was better for knowing him. Then last week he suddenly appeared again. It was early evening and I was just sitting down to watch some television, a routine I’d fallen into over the last few months. A sort o...
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