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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022
Submitted to Contest #151
She knows I don’t want to die alone so she will come and that’s the long and short of it. Maura thinks about Jane before she's fully awake. She pulls on the baggy jeans strewn across the chair next to the bureau, laces her arms into a blue flannel shirt and heads to the kitchen to make tea. The sun’s just up. She peers out the window into the yard to see if Betta and Troop, her mama goat and kid, are stirring. Maura doesn’t need to be thinking about dying, because she’s perfectly healthy. In her early sixties, she lives a simple outdoorsy ...
Submitted to Contest #146
Letter to my younger selves,No need for our covert operation anymore, boys, I’m shining the light on the whole damn story. This is my healing. It’s taken me three years to drudge this up from deep inside my cells and set it down on paper for the both of you. It’s written to you, Dave, as an infant, a child, a teen and a mature man. Dan won’t admit to reading it anyways. I might ramble and skip across decades but you’ll both follow. A scene that comes to mind is the first time Dan showed up at Mae’s place eight years ago, wrecked after a...
Shortlisted for Contest #136 ⭐️
Dying is easy, and yet how my weary spirit clings to the world of the living. This is my funeral and I am amazed to see that I had so many friends. Friends, humph. They have come to eat and drink of my wife’s hospitality – cheap wine, meager food. A poor wake for a poor man. I know poverty like my grandfather’s grandfather knew it. It was bred in our blood and we never expected more. But there once was a time, in my youth, I had the fantasy of going to the western l...
Submitted to Contest #135
(This is an early reader picture story, for ages 4 to 8.)Every day at exactly noon, Victor sits in his cubby corner in his family’s small living room, with his sad dad who reads in his armchair while his mom and sisters go to the shops. [picture of Victor’s dad in a small living room, his face in darkness, a book on his lap, sitting in an armchair, wearing dark trousers with suspenders, thin. Pills and a water jug sit high on a shelf. From the kitchen doorway comes a shaft of light and a swirl of steam. Victor sits on a large cushion in...
Submitted to Contest #133
This little story belongs in the heart-shaped box sitting in the second drawer of my desk, along with a gold watch, an antique fishing lure, a flask of Glenmorangie, and my future book. But the box didn’t start in the drawer. After I finished the chocolates, I stuck it on the shelf in my shop along with tins and canisters for stray nails and screws, below a battered trusty toolbox and above my drills. Good with my hands, I may not be a wordsmith, but I can chin wag about anything you want – where the eagles nest, and how to run a railyard, t...
Submitted to Contest #132
When Kim tells me her dad died that morning, the inside of my head clangs like a church bell. This is our very first phone call, and for a second, I don’t recognize her voice or her name. I sit down on the side of the bed in my parents’ bedroom, and I kind of grow up in that moment. Thanks a lot, God. When I woke up this morning, I said to myself: gee, I hope I grow up today.This is so typical of me, taking the floor when Kim has just told me her dad died this morning. Seriously Angie, drop the daze and think of someone other than ...
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