Tom Williams

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

69 karma pts

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“Our Marvellous Morris” by Tom Williams

Submitted to Contest #211

Morris Lamb rested his reading glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and uncurled his top lip. “So, Timothy, you’re saying that this book you’re looking for has a blue cover?” “Yes,” the boy replied. “And it has big, bold white lettering?” “Yes.” “And there is an illustration on the cover of a…” “I think it’s a centaur?” Timothy pondered with a twiddle of his fingers. “Or maybe a mermaid? Or a goblin? Something mythical anyway.” Morris Lamb brushed a loose white flyaway behind his ear. “Give me a moment,” he said. With that, h...

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“Footprints in the Snow” by Tom Williams

Submitted to Contest #77

“Ok, Bernard, are you good to go? Ready to rumble? Hot to trot?” “I… I… I think so.” “What do you mean, you think so?” Bernard shivered. Despite his layers – all eight of them – he could not shake out the chill that the evening had injected into his bones. His gloved hands gripped the sled beneath him. “Well, Nick, it’s just that I’ve not done this in a long time…” “And?” “… and I’m nowhere near as young as I once was…” “One of the general trends of ageing, that is.” “… and I suppose that I am a bit worried that I may be in a much-cha...

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“Forbidden Fruit” by Tom Williams

Submitted to Contest #63

As an apple, I had always wanted to be eaten. It was as much a part of me as my stem was. Or my peel. Or my core. You could say wanting to be eaten was in my blood, or whatever the apple version of blood was. Juice, I suppose. Wanting to be eaten was in my juice. I had been hanging for many days in the great wild garden that was my home, alone but by no means lonely, ripe and waiting to be plucked and devoured, when I heard two voices break through the surrounding foliage. Here we go, I thought to myself. Showtime. From the winding ...

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“Red Nectar” by Tom Williams

Submitted to Contest #61

Rose absolutely despised being a vampire. For one, ageing incredibly slowly was actually not at all what it was cut out to be. You see, it provided you with a lot more chances to forget things, with Rose’s few memories of her early life now only shadows. Not being able to leave the house during the day was also horrible. She had loved rambling the pre-civil-war countryside in her youth, exploring valleys and glens and woodlands, but for four-hundred-and-a-bit winters, springs, summers, and autumns now she had effectively been housebou...

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Author bio

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