Swan Anderson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2021

Stories (12)

12 Stories

466 karma pts

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“The Ghost Adagio” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #221

In the basement of the Kenmore Conservatory of Music, the practice rooms are dark and gloomy, with radiators that clank like Marley's ghost and steam that clogs your lungs like molasses. Room 8 is the worst of all. The fluorescent lights flicker constantly, giving you a headache. But that's not the main reason no one wants to go in there.

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“MISSING LEAVES” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from, people’s family names come first. Family trees trace long ancestral lines back to a home village, and those who fall from their branches become missing leaves.My father came into Hong Kong along with thousands of refugees from China’s mainland who were desperate to escape Mao’s regime. He could have been the first leaf to fall from an ancient family tree. I’ll never know.My mother was an orphan, also from Guangdong Province. Right from the start, then, I was a missing leaf from two fa...

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“A Rose For Therese” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #131

Therese Malfatti hunched behind a tree amid the crackling leaves and pulled her dog, Gigons, against her chest. He whimpered and struggled to get free, but she held him tightly. Her mother called, "Therese! It's time to go home!" "Hush, Gigons, don't let her hear us." ...

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“Mozart's Sister” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #128

Welcome to this house, where my brother was born. Look around you at the comfortable room that my late husband the Baron has provided for me. Feel the warmth of the crackling fire. As my maid serves you fine tea from China, see the light gleaming on the polished silver and the fine Dresden porcelain we inherited from his mother.I never want for food or care. Yet who would guess that once I played for the crowned heads of Europe, sitting at fine gilt harpsichords next to my little brother as we wove tapestries of brillian...

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“A Case of Arthuritis” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #124

My name is Doctor Edgar B. Shallows, Jr. and I work in the ER at Cornwall Medical Center. We're down in what's called the Combat Zone, where hookers and drug dealers prowl the streets, suburban guys sneak into the peep shows and sex shops, and guns are as plentiful as cotton candy. You can practically set your watch by the police sirens. Our hospital specializes in major trauma cases. We're trained to spr...

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“The Cattle Call” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #123

“‘Tis true my form is something odd But blaming me is blaming God… Could I create myself anew I would not fail in pleasing you. If I could reach from pole to pole Or grasp the…” One steamy summer day in Boston, Jared Mann stared into the mirror and practiced a poem for his audition. He managed to sail through...

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“Behind His Mask” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #123

On a blustery day in December of 1888, Joseph Merrick, better known as “The Elephant Man,” sat reading beside the fire in his cozy room in the London Hospital. Unlike regular patients who were admitted, treated and released to home or death, Joseph was a permanent resident. His extreme disfigurement frightened people so much he had to wear a mask when he ventured into public. One of his managers in the circus had made it for him.His custom-designed mask consisted of an enormous yachting cap, large enough to fit his ...

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“Winter Sonata” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #121

A package has arrived in the post from Vienna today. That's not unusual. What is unusual is the way my mother, Antonie, thrusts it at me impatiently and says in a trembling voice, "It's for you, Maxie—hurry and open it.""Another art book? Mother, we still have plenty from Grandfather's house!"She winces as she always does when reminded of Grandfather Birkenstock, who had been a renowned art dealer and had a vast and valuable collection in his mansion in Vienna. After his death twelve years ago, it ...

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“Autumn Gardening” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #120

(Scenes of bombing, injuries, death) Next to the cyclone fence, chrysanthemums were in bloom. Mariko Abe stooped stiffly to pull out a few weeds around them. A plane passed high above her and she straightened up, her heart pounding. Then she gave herself a shake. “Stop this nonsense. It's been fifty years. Are you going to jump like a rabbit every time a plane goes by?” She heard the phone ringing...

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“Suite Memories” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #119

Jack Colby leaned back in his battered recliner and closed his eyes. How long had it been since he’d slept in his own bed? He’d gotten used to the recliner at Amelia’s bedside in the Hospice Unit at the Memorial, and found he liked it. Truth was, he dreaded going back to the bed they’d shared at home for forty-one years. He couldn’t imagine a night without her gentle breathing and comfortable cur...

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“THE GOLDEN CAGE” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #113

Every day I seethe with throbbing heat. I can hardly breathe the stifling air that invades my lungs and fuels the desire that burns through my body day and night. The mere sight of his strong form makes my heart clench like a fistful of anger and frustration. His dark, gentle eyes serve my needs but never quite meet mine and his smile is correct and deferential, never shapes to fill the hollows of my hunger. What more can I expect from a Hebrew slave?This Yusuf is no ordinary slave like the dull-eyed minions who toil in&...

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“In Search of Heaven's Door” by Swan Anderson

Submitted to Contest #112

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow Praise Him all creatures here below...” The well-worn tune went round and round in her head as Joanna Fan peered through the wet windshield, the wipers slapping an irritating rhythm that didn't quite fit the music. Rippling sheets of water o...

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Author bio

I'm a longtime writer and musician who loves to write short stories. I have a novel or two languishing in my drawer - don't we all? As an adoptee, I wrote a story that ended up in "A Ghost at Heart's Edge," stories about the triangle of adoptees, birth parents, and adoptive parents. I'm a proud grandma of two children and live in Boston with my husband and a houseful of happy plants.