Trudy Jas

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2023

Stories (82)

82 Stories

4888 karma pts

?

“Wicked theft. A cautionary tale.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #277

A conversation with my computer. Computer voice expertly supplied by Derrick M. Domican. Thank you, Derrick for your time, thoughts and words. Couldn't have done it without you.Here we go, new week, new story. I need characters, and a plot with a beginning, middle and end. Who'll be my main character, what about a side character, point of view. Shall I go with close narrative? First person narrative? Oh, how about second person, always a challenge. But what about the plot, plot, plot, plot.I can help.Sh. I’m thinking. Plot, plot …Theft.Huh?...

Read story

“Johnny's Quest” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #277

Once upon a time, there was a little boy. We’ll call him Johnny. He was a beautiful little fellow, with big chocolate eyes and a head full of dark curls. Such a happy little boy with a winning smile. As soon as little Johnny could walk, he went out and made friends, lots of friends. Little Johnny was popular and fit in everywhere he went.Until …Johnny had never spent a minute thinking about IT, what IT was or why he would need IT. But gradually he felt as if he had lost something. Didn’t his classmates laughed at him when he couldn’t cl...

Read story

“Treading water in the dating pool” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #276

Though the tag indicates "creative non-fiction, the tale is sadly true. A date is more than “didchaeatyet?’ right. Let's say a date is an event where the dator askes the datee, then picks up said datee and brings the datee home again. And you want to know if any of mine ever took a left turn, right? Yeah, sure. No problem. Except which one shall I share with you? Oh never, mind. I’ll tell you about all of them. Take a seat. No, this won’t take long. It’s a short story, more like flash fiction, really.It was in tenth grade that Robert as...

Read story

“Rest in peace” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #275

Rest in peace. Warning! Mention of child abuse, rape, miscarriage, and revenge. The fifth step from the top on the main stairs has chewing gum stuck in the left corner as you come down. In the south wing, in front of the second-floor girls’ room, a couple of the tiles are cracked. A section of baseboard, just outside the chem lab, has a mysterious stain with a lingering sulfur odor. Two of the ceiling tiles in the boy’s locker room are broken. A budding Peeping Tom fell through when trying to get to the girl’s showers, where in the last...

Read story

“Beyond time” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #275

I love old, well-used, well-loved books. You might say I’m obsessed with them. Each discovery gives my heart a jolt of anticipation; Is this the one? I look for little forgotten treasures, like a comment to a loved one, notes scribbled in margins. I have found forgotten, yellowed photos, handwritten letters, a recipe, or a dried flower stuck between pages. I keep looking as if there is something specific I need to find.Yesterday, Mr. Margoli, the owner of a quasi-antiques store, left me a message. He has something I might like. This morning ...

Read story

“The hunt” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #275

.I shiver as the cold wind and needle-like rain slide down the collar of my too thin coat. Here in the dusk are no cute plastic pumpkins, make-believe scarecrows, or fairy lights, no tiny warlocks, robots, or witches. Here the ghosts and monsters are real. Here people do not wander the streets looking for candy after dark, not even the powdery kind.I’m not hunting candy of any kind. I’m hunting my enemy. The one who has taken my family and is preying on me. The one who has no mercy, no heart, no soul. The one whose hot breath I have fel...

Read story

“The long road.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #274

It’s time to make your rounds. You don your pretend white coat and arm yourself with a make-belief stethoscope before you step out of your office. The hallway is long and has many doors. Because you have learned that fate is resourceful when molding the human mind, you once again brace yourself to face what’s behind each door.The voice in your head taunts before you unlock the memory you keep behind each door. Are you sure you want to know what’s inside? Yes, of course. It’s my job. You assure the annoying, all-knowing voice. This conve...

Read story

“Senseless” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #273

SenselessI have come to feed my addiction. I can no longer control my cravings, the ache deep inside of me.Daily I have tried to restrain my need by performing each task as if it is a religious ritual. The egg is boiled for exactly three and a half minutes, the bread is toasted to a light golden brown. The bed is made with hospital corners. The laundry is done on Mondays, groceries are bought on Tuesdays and Fridays. I watch the news at six.Tears at six thirty.Family and friends come and urge me to join them. A movie, or the opera? A class a...

Read story

“I'm not Jane.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #273

a lightning bolt of awareness ruthlessly slices into the roaring darkness giving a glimpse of a whoosh and sigh and a measured rise and fall --- ------ dark silence returns ---a startling jangle of beeps and clicks cuts through the blind silence. --- ------ silent blackness takes over---like a fetus in the womb, learning to tell light from dark. awareness in darkness feels as if buried alive. grateful for the light. --- --+--- nothingness ---where is here? --- --- silence is nothing--- where is here? ------darkness returns--- what ...

Read story

“Come sail away.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #272

Come sail away.Once again, I watch as the late-afternoon light creeps over the threadbare Persian rug and caresses the leather club chairs. It glints off the pewter vase holding the past-their-prime red roses and passes over the pale-blue teacup with half a chocolate biscuit on the saucer. On the once-maroon velvet chesterfield with the tired cushions and tarnished nail heads sits an old woman. In her arthritic hands is a silver frame that holds my picture. In a corner of the room a gramophone plays Winter by Vivaldi.She gazes out the French...

Read story

“Halloween came early this year.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #272

Halloween came early this year.For the history on Miss Abigail Forrest and Captain Jonah Heisson, please see "The house with five doors" Contest 251.Behind the old Victorian house I bought last year is a small one-room church with a Civil War era cemetery. There are twenty-eight gravestones in the yard. Three of the graves are empty.It didn’t taken long before I met Abigail Forrest, a lady, or more precise, a lady of the evening who had lived in the house soon after the Civil War. She had allowed me to read her diary and the letters to the s...

Read story

“How I met your mother.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #271

How I met your mother."Daddy." My four-year-old daughter abandons her Lego creation and leans against my leg. Her boney elbow digs into my groin. Out of self-preservation I lift her up on my lap."What, baby?""Tell me the story again." she demands."Again?" I widen my eye in mock disbelief. Her blond curls, so like her mother's, bounce in affirmation.She was a beacon in the smog of grey business suits that drifted around her on the subway platform. Among these minions, mindlessly scurrying to their dead-end jobs, she embodied the proud strengt...

Read story

“3 am” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #270

3 am, the dead of night. My chest hurts.The familiar sounds barely register. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan. The more intrusive knocks and pings from the refrigerator, the measured flub when another minute is counted off by the old clock. The distorted whine from an eighteen-wheeler speeding down I-74, the futile protest from a dog awakened from its sleep, an owl calling for a mate. Then all is quiet again except for the muffled thumps from the washing machine.I am staring at several innocent looking items spread before me. The small...

Read story

“Trust Me.” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #270

I. Was. So. Fucking. Pissed!It was well past midnight as I paced around the kitchen island, muttering and cussing under my breath. It was a shame that I am too civilized to scream, but my neighbors were asleep, and the walls thin. I wanted to kick something no, someone. I wanted to throw something. But decided to open a bottle of Pinot instead.When I was a child, my mother would say, ‘Go ahead, trust me. It’ll be alright,’ I went ahead and nine times out of ten she was right. The bathwater was not too hot, the sandbox messy and fun, the...

Read story

“Little Magic Boxes” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #269

Not long ago, only a lifetime, this room was comfortable, warm, colorful. It was a place for creativity and peace. It reflected me. Then one day, a small package arrived. Though it was meticulously wrapped; the name of the sender was smudged. I was surprised and excited. It had been so long since I had received a gift.I carefully unwrapped the package and found a small box, the inside was lined with midnight blue velvet. On the velvet rested a smile. One so brilliant and charming, I had to smile back. There wasn’t anything else I could do wh...

Read story

Author bio

Being single and retired left me with no one to talk to. So, I started telling myself stories. To keep from becoming (even more) eccentric, I decided to write them down. I find I kinda like doing this, and like the good little perfectionist I am, I want to become better. So, any constructive feedback, (and praise) is always welcome.

Shortlisted 5 stories ⭐️

Contest #255

Cheers, Mom. – read story

Contest #254

Whispers – read story

Contest #245

The Light at the Edges – read story

Contest #242

The Night Watchman – read story

Contest #237

For the Last Time – read story