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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020
Submitted to Contest #212
I had always thought that the Muscatellos had a perfect marriage. Lindy Muscatello would often leave the windows open whenever they made love. During one of their sessions, Oscar Muscatello would sing opera at the top of his lungs. I’d be lying in bed next to Robert and he would beg me to shut the window. The whole thing made him uncomfortable. When we made love, there was no sound at all. Just a quiet gasp when Robert decided to land the plane, so to speak. My plane never landed. It just circled endlessly until it ran out of fuel and plum...
Submitted to Contest #211
Althea woke up and remembered it was Christmas. She pushed off the blankets that were feeling exceedingly heavier with each passing morning, and placed her feet down on the warm, wooden floors. “Warm floors,” she said to herself, “I’ll never get over warm floors.” When she was a little girl, there were things promised from the future and things that couldn’t even be imagined. Althea was still waiting on the things promised, but the unimaginable had arrived time and again, and each time, she couldn’t believe how much energy people expen...
Submitted to Contest #210
The aliens were not going to leave the Olive Garden. Originally, they had no plans to try out any of the fast casual restaurants the world had to offer. They were on a very strict timeline-- Arrive on Earth. Bring together mankind under an umbrella of peace and kindness. Meet Paul Simon. Go home. Peace and kindness didn’t take very long, but Paul Simon was a hard man to pin down. When the aliens finally got him on the phone, he cautiously agreed to meet with them provided they did not force him to sing “Call Me Al.” Of course, this...
Shortlisted for Contest #209 ⭐️
I need a second.I really had no intention of, you know, returning to this house. So many bad memories here. So much trauma. Is it okay if I just sit for a second? If I remember correctly, they only had the two chairs. Well, technically, they had three chairs. And I, an innocent little girl of fifteen, sat in one of the three chairs, and immediately felt as though I was being set upon by the fabric. Certain people recounting my story have said that it was too soft, that first chair, but it wasn’t just that it was soft, it was that I have...
Submitted to Contest #208
It would be one thing if we were stuck in a book. There’s a respectability to being characters in a book. I was discussing it with my husband last night, and we both agreed that a novel--or even a novella--would be just fine. Not that we know the difference between a novel and a novella, but I think a novella is sexier. Not that I’m opposed to being in something sexy as long as I’m not the one supplying the sex. I’m not a prude, mind you, but I’m not doing anything prurient just so Reese Witherspoon can read all about it and then tell her ...
Submitted to Contest #207
The mayonnaise has not been made.As the onion contemplates how long it will be until someone notices that the mayonnaise has not been made, it sees Chef Doyle trying not to cry.Chef Doyle does not cry at work. In general, Chef Doyle does not cry at all, but the onion has no way of knowing that. We only know what the onion knows, and the onion knows that, for the most part, crying at work is frowned upon. The onion also knows that crying in a busy kitchen on a Saturday night is not helpful when the tickets are already piling up and the weeds ...
Submitted to Contest #206
As the raft made its way across the river, Emerson Carver forgot his own name. He looked down into the prized water of the Philipse and couldn’t find his face. The surface was coated with gray algae and there were disturbances from the paddles pushing through the tension. He sat back down and rubbed his hands over the life vest that was too small for him. Could it really hold him up if something occurred? He tried to remember his first name. He couldn’t. He knew the last name sounded like Shaver. He was close, but would never get any closer ...
Submitted to Contest #205
Near the rock where tourists pose for photos, there is a set of spot where you're not supposed to sit. Constance climbs the rock under the Buck Moon and sits down right at the tip. The spot where you’re not supposed to sit. She has a small, white paper bag with her and a copy of People magazine from three weeks ago. The bargain was to bring the most recent issue, but she didn’t have time to stop at the drugstore and grab the new one, so three weeks old would have to do. Although there were rules, whoever was in charge of the bargain seemed t...
Submitted to Contest #204
She got sent out with a basket of pecan bread and a bad cough. The flu had whipped through and nearly killed Rebecca the same way it had four other little girls in town. This was going to be her first outing since she recovered, and her mother pulled the red bonnet tight on her head as though sunshine might end up bringing back Death to finish the job. “Straight there,” her mother said, “I don’t want to find out you stopped to look at the horses at Friedman Ranch. This is a test errand. See if you can get there and back without collapsing. Y...
Submitted to Contest #203
They are very excited to graduate. When the diplomas have been distributed, they will step out onto the sidewalk that stretches far enough to accommodate the audiences that typically pour out of the downtown theater where, once a year, Joseph Silberman High School has their graduation. The sidewalk has seen the tuxedo crowd turn into the shorts-and-a-t-shirt crowd after tours headlined by stars from Broadway became non-equity three-show stays. The sidewalk had opinions about theater, but we have no need to interrogate a sidewalk. We have...
That tree was nothing but a seedling when first we sized up each other. Running up to me to check my pulse. Egads, the mouse is a man! Nothing to be afraid of, but turquoise flints in my vocabulary. You dared my hand to find yours and away we went. Twice down the long hill, once down the rocks. Stop where you see the sign for Brandy Hollow. Well, I don’t see us going back there anytime soon. Not for me to tell you what age prevents, but we are not a sonic boom. Maybe if they reinvent the way of breath and oxygen. Nickel i...
Submitted to Contest #201
Dear Sereva, I wanted you to listen To this song I wrote I’ve never written A song in my life Or anything, really In my life Not a poem Not a short story Not unless it was in school And a teacher Was making me do it The thought of paragraphs Terrifies me to this day And so even now I have to break down the lines As I’m typing this out to you I also have to be careful Because the nurses here Love to keep an eye on us As though we’re prisoners Instead of residents here At Farmington Pond My daughter dropped me here On my sixty-nint...
Submitted to Contest #200
Martha, if I knew more than what I was telling you, I would tell you more. I’m telling you what I know, and all I know is what Gosha told me after Saresha told her after Saresha talked to Noah’s wife Na’amah spoke to her about it and told her to bring the turtles. I don’t know what Noah needs turtles for, but somebody told me--and I can’t say who--that Noah might be building a turtle farm. All turtles moving forward. The occasional salamander, but mostly turtles. Do you believe that? What is he going to do with all those turtles? I asked G...
She returned on a Thursday with the ashes of her fling tucked safely under her arm. Placed upon the mantle, the urn looked like a participation trophy from a little league tournament, not a final resting place for a man she’d only met after his untimely demise. Placing one hand on the urn before heading to the bedroom to unpack her suitcase, she whispered “Thank you” and then realized how silly it was to whisper. There was a very good chance she was the only one home. A very good chance, but not a certainty. * * * * * * Mindy Beg...
Submitted to Contest #198
Principal Alonzo called Stephen Shy into her office at 11:04 on a Tuesday morning to discuss why using robots to write term papers is unacceptable. Stephen walked into her office seemingly unconcerned about why he had been summoned. Most of the sixth graders walked in sheepish--even anxious. Seventh graders tended to walk in providing a kind of false confidence that would fall away as soon as Principal Alonzo picked up the phone and interrupted their parents at work. The eighth graders were the best at appearing calm, but a raised voice an...
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