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Wayne Bullet

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2025

Stories (4)

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3 Followers

11 Following

4 Stories

54 karma pts

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My Woods

Wayne Bullet

Submitted to Contest #320

Nick's beloved woods had transformed into an eerie, haunted forest. Something seemed to be watching him. He’d patrolled these woods since he was three; every familiar path now seemed evil, making him feel betrayed. He had a 1911 pistol holstered on his right hip; the .45 caliber rounds would allow him to obliterate any man who threatened him. Rumors had flown and were repeated; an escaped 'nut job' from the local psychiatric hospital was supposedly hiding somewhere in his woods. Every snapping twig and leaf-blown made his pulse rise in fear;...

2 likes

Darkness

Wayne Bullet

Submitted to Contest #318

How in the hell had this happened? Gustov thought. This unbelievable place is a wax museum or hellhole representing the Middle Ages! Deep in some castle's dungeon. It couldn’t be real; it had to be an imagined punishment place straight out of the bowls of Hades or Hell! It definitely wasn’t Pergutory, where he’d be given a second chance; there were no more opportunities here—this was it. The end! Final judgement! Final recogning! Terminated! Why am I here?It was a false imprisonment, too, like an innocent man days away from a neck-stretching...

5 likes

Apache Chief-Honoring A Warrior: Named Mike

Wayne Bullet

Submitted to Contest #317

Chief Charging Bull abruptly found himself floating above his own motionless body, sprawled across a brown buffalo rug. Was he asleep? Dead? "No!" he shouted, willing himself back into his flesh—but nothing happened. Panic overtook him, spreading like wildfire across the dry prairie, a thundering stampede with no hope of escape.Instinctively, he tried to shield his hawkish, wrinkled face and drop to his knees, hiding from phantom beasts thundering through his mind. But his hands passed through empty air. His body below remained perfectly sti...

3 likes

Scars

Wayne Bullet

Submitted to Contest #316

Bill "Scars" Newton hobbled into the Bolt's grimy training room, a weathered aluminum crutch wedged under his left arm and his right arm hanging limp like dead weight. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting harsh shadows across the cracked linoleum walls lined with rusted lockers and outdated medical equipment that looked like relics from a forgotten era. He moved like a wounded predator—each step deliberate and agonizing, his black booted feet echoing against the concrete floor that bore permanent stains from years of blood, sweat, and d...

2 likes