Tim Stevenson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2024

Stories (11)

11 Stories

16 karma pts

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“Dark Lady Horse of the Rapid Eye Movement Phase” by Tim Stevenson

The Dean was understanding, sympathetic and on the verge of apologetic, though it was not his fault in the slightest. I should, of course, get my diploma with both distinction and a commendation. However, wearying financial constraints prohibited my going on to a bachelor's degree, which could indeed have led to a doctorate. Unless, of course, I could raise funding. Which, need I say, I was in no position to do.I am not by nature a pub goer. My leanings are more towards a moderate glass of a great Bordeaux sipped while I eat a vegan meal on ...

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“Rabbit Hole” by Tim Stevenson

I shall not weary you with the tale how I came to be unjustly accused, prosecuted, convicted, imprisoned and eventually vindicated although never properly compensated. You will have read all that in the papers. You will almost certainly be aware that the person that I blame for this fiasco, whom even now I had better not name, had and has a great mop of red hair. You will be aware that his deviousness was so great that minimal blame can be attributed to the police, the Crown Prosecution Service, the prosecuting barrister, the judge or the ju...

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“In Re De Motu Ante Nos” by Tim Stevenson

I have been called, in the arcane language of this hoarily venerable institution [hic] to speak to the motion. Not contra the motion, a task that falls to Mr. Grinchman over there. Not for the motion, which would seem conventionable and logicafull. I am called upon to speak to the motion. So here goes: “Motion my dear, you are a very silly motion indeed.”Just in case any of you have dozed off, let me remind you of the motion our chair (who not having four legs and never being sat upon is not actually a chair) has just read out to us...

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“Review” by Tim Stevenson

Well, that went more or less to plan! Not peasant, but par for the course – for the age that is. In future years, had the technology been available to record it, it would have counted as a “snuff movie”. However it was nothing out of the usual in these barbarous times. So I am going to have to put my thinking cap of about the next step. I need to contrive something that will do what in future centuries will come to be called making it go viral. (No don’t try to look that up, the knowledge behind the phrase will not be discovered for a very l...

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“Ghost Writer” by Tim Stevenson

I was between three filths and two thirds of the way through what had become for me a very standard length of short story when the block happened. It was a somewhat mawkish love story. Fellow writers will know that once characters are established in a piece of writing they take over and carry the plot down lanes that the author in no way envisaged when pen first went to paper, or finger to keyboard as the case may be.This star struck couple proved supine in this respect. Not only did they make none of the usual attempt to override the tale o...

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“A Tale - And one that is deficient in matters of plausibility at that” by Tim Stevenson

As he trekked across the endless frozen wastes, it came to him that this was no way at all to get to Pimlico. So he turned into a nearby hostelry and ordered fish and chips. As he raised his knife and fork, the battered fish looked at him wanly and spoke. “T’would do no great harm to consume my elongated companions of solanum tuberous ancestry in the family of solanaceae. They are, to put it euphemistically, thick..They would be likely to deem it an honour to do you gastronomic service. Moreover they are present in sufficient numbers to adeq...

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“Do not attempt to understand this tale…it does not make sense.” by Tim Stevenson

It looked like a very ordinary mobile phone. That was because that is what it was. A good few years behind the latest model, Screen somewhat scratched. The only unusual feature that might have become apparent was the highly complex and unguessable sequence of actions needed to turn it on. The very clever people within that round building near Cheltenham might have gained access. Even if they got in they would have been puzzled to find the memory surprisingly tidy. No discoverable sign of the devious firewall they had just penetrated, of the ...

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“The Deal” by Tim Stevenson

As persons of his nature and calling are reputed to be, he was distinctly respectable. A bit short, or course, but dapper, waistcoated. His voice was marginally high, refined, his speech a whisker pedantic sounding. Grey hair, well kept, far enough off his forehead to make it clear that there were no cliched bumps there. The only unusual thing was that he was suddenly there.“I won’t stomp around the bush”, he said without preamble. Forget the nonsense about three wishes, for anybody with any wits uses one of them to require an infinite numbe...

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“Loki” by Tim Stevenson

“I am Loki, named after the Norse god of mischief and mayhem. I am in need of a patron” was an extraordinary enough statement in its own right. I certainly had not seen that one coming. That it was made by a small, dishevelled, scruffy, nondescript dog made it more so. I am not sure whether I uttered a surprised “OK” or merely grunted. Whichever it was, it was taken as assent and the formation of a contract. He followed me home to my flat.That I had not one but two comfortable armchairs, inherited from Aunt Jemima and Uncle Harry one their n...

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“Christine” by Tim Stevenson

I am not going to go into details about my feelings at the loss of Claire, my wife. Everybody’s grief journey, to use that dreadfully overworked phrase, is the same and everybody’s is different.Similarly I am not going to reveal who it was who gave me Christine. Reasons for that are more complicated, and there is no call to do so.Suzie, who came to deliver and “install” Christine was petite, attractive, and young. And naive. I should not say that, it sounds misogynist and pejorative, but it is defensible. She was clearly talking from a learn...

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“Between Parallel Mirrors” by Tim Stevenson

I had always assumed that a heart attack would be a matter of extreme and sudden pain. It turned out in my case at least, not to be so. There was simply a feeling of great pressure as if my chest was crushed in a vice, and then a slow fading away as my brain was starved of blood and oxygen. I came to, seated on a very small, three legged stool in a glassed enclosure somewhat like a huge bell jar in what certainly seemed to be a very tiny oak panelled courtroom. Behind a huge desk was the greyly bewhiskered judge. The prosecutrix stood up and...

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Author bio

Retired physicist, electronic and software engineer, now a parish councillor and grower of vegetables.