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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2020
Submitted to Contest #186
Explicit Language and Themes I don’t like your tone. I’m not yelling, Thomas? Well, I don’t like your monotone; it’s disturbing. I’d rather you be yelling at me. But I’m not. Have you done that report yet? It was due yesterday. Dean, Dean, I have rights here. You can’t just jump on me about some report without a written or verbal warning. Im not giving you a warning. I’m just asking for the report. See, there you go… using that tone again — (copying monotone) I’m just asking for the report. It’s nerve s...
[Lost poetic verse from the Middle Ages; depicting the siege of Spain. Written by Geraldo de la Torre in 1340 (nearing death); translated by Martin Alvarez in 1922]I.The ancient city Seeps in redRed liquid Liquor Blood. They are cheering The enemy Is defeated ….We are the enemy They the victorious Invaders. What is there to say? Our people vanquished Suffering and falling To despair. The stone walls Rumble As I sit in thisCage. Water bowl To m...
Submitted to Contest #164
Martin Hernandez was at it again. Speaking to a loathsome crowd that would rather hear music than his miserable rhythmic poems. The bar let him do it because he was a regular drinker there. A regular bum who stumbled in half drunk before picking up a few more glasses of poison. But when on stage, he got more than sober. He became entranced by a higher power. However, this higher power couldn’t save him from the occasional bottle thrown from the belligerently intoxicated crowd. They booed, jeered, and sometimes, cried. Martin loved when they ...
Submitted to Contest #161
As I, Martin Hernandez, look up from my morning-after shower… I see a spider (daddy long legs) spinning an ant in its web. The morning-after wasn’t rough, it was horrifically whimsical. Like getting beautifully drunk, but spending the night with a ghost everyone can see, hear, and fear. I met Shelly online: Tinder. But I was spun in like that ant on the web. Her pictures showed a vibrant and smiling girl. Skin and makeup doused in beauty, and her dress sunnier then El Sol. I was lonely and so was she. I rolled the dice. Nowad...
Submitted to Contest #149
Mark Twain despised weather, but weather must have rained on him like a blitzkrieg of fire and hell and fury. Even a storm brings cleansing peace after the clouds dissipate. Weather is weather… and on this night it poured like it usually did on this time of year. The water filled the stream’s veins, and they flowed like a rushing army into battle. The troupe of three, daughter, father, and son mushed over the muddy bank. The water dropped from the trees above and tapped onto the father’s hat. “Papa… do you think we’ll find Sherpa?”“Not ...
CHAPTER I Some parts of the Inland Valley are a cesspit for rats and snakes. They’re dusty curmudgeons who supply, deal, and consume smack like over-the-counter medicine. Needles puncture arms and fill their veins with heroine. People pop pills and take fentanyl to elevate their heroine addictions that no longer buzz their brains into mush. Guns are like arms. And bullets are their fingers. The pandemic exacerbated violence, and manifested self-proclaimed patriots and preachers. 2022: Suburban Home: Kitchen Table: Late Night & Boo...
Submitted to Contest #126
The kitchen smelled of beans, rice, and left-over enchiladas and tamales. It was around 6:30 pm. Dinner was almost ready. The Sanchez family hosted a small cadre of family and friends. The tree was still up and beautifully decorated & lit brightly. The fire place exuded heat. The wind was chilly, and the air was frigid. “Oh, boy… look at poor Danny,” said Clarita Sanchez. “What’s his problem? He’s been sitting on the kitchen counter moping and pounding his fists for at least an hour…” Said Anise Sanchez, their cousin. “He’...
Submitted to Contest #125
The birds sang a song of death this morning… as they did every morning for Pastor Marvin Humphrey. He dreaded the dew and coffee. And food didn’t taste the same no more either. It was the dullest of lives. He was numb in every orifice, and paralyzed in the brain. He only knew one thing anymore: how to reside over funeral processions… barely. “Fuck...” Grumbled Pastor Humphrey as he pressed snooze on his phone. ...
Submitted to Contest #38
ACT I.Bobo and Macy[cold open. In the Afternoon. A suburb cul-de-sac. A woman and a man are talking in front of his yard. He is holding a water hose. She has a purse over here shoulders wearing a polo shirt and dress pants. He is wearing a white t-shirt and khaki shorts.] Macy: The last few days have not been great. I hate to spew on about myself like this, but when you live alone – there isn’t anyone to really talk to. My co-workers are alright, but I would not sit there and say that any of them could be considered, a “friend”. Well… what c...
Submitted to Contest #37
[Correspondence letter: From Investigator Charles Chevenuer; Forest Lake, CA; To: Chief James Mackson; Riverside City, CA Police Department; Date: 4/26/1986] Dear Chief Mackson, As a result of a pro-longed investigation, the clues have led me to a small lake town in Forest Lake, California. A village town, that has recently boomed in tourism due to its new Mayor’s lake revival project; has also found itself in the mouth of controversy. Upon my arrival, a string of gruesome mur...
Submitted to Contest #36
December 22, 1888The Yellow House I am becoming restless in this home and sleepless nights have plagued me. Beautiful as the home may be and inspiring as it was; the elements of its form, no longer give me the edge that I seek. However, I would like to say that living under a roof of artists has done me much good. The art world has always and always will be a tough nut to crack, but I do not seek only gold and treasures; given by bearing a famous name. I seek what my heart seeks. A place where my art feels it has a home. A place where I can ...
Submitted to Contest #35
It is so damn beautiful out here. The essence of my soul feels as though it is being hugged by the surrounding environment. By the surrounding environment? And I think I’m a writer. I cannot even describe my inner feelings in a flair that nibs at the dopamine of the brain. Hmmm. That sounded kind of good – maybe not. I do not really know anymore. Really. I look up to the sky and smell the air. I feel quant and calm. I breathe in a couple of times and hear the chirping of happy birds. Fluttering in flocks of merry feather darts zipping across...
Submitted to Contest #34
*****I.Two am this morning, a raid on a Texas home found six – TV in the lving room“He is a normal kid, Janet – for fuck sakes!”“Really? You can’t keep your voice down, Daren? He’s in the living room.“Well, I am being told that my kid needs to be evaluated, of course I’m going to raise my voice. What the fuck do they know at that damn school, anyways!”“Daren! Stop it. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Just forget about it… We will talk later.” Turns towards living room.“No! I want to talk about it, now! Don’t start walking away, Jan...
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