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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2021
The Old Man And The Bay Wind-surfing the gnarly waves at Gazos Creek Beach had me amped up, stress-free, and hungry as a wolf. Driving back to The City, I veered off the Coast Highway towards Duarte’s Tavern & Restaurant in the tiny town of Pescadero.I stepped off the street into the near-empty barroom and got a welcoming hello from the bartender, a proper old-timer in a white shirt and vest with “Tom” neatly stenciled on a brass name tag.I asked if the restaurant was open yet. He said, Twenty minutes so I slid onto a stool and ordered a...
Submitted to Contest #321
Wind-surfing the gnarly waves at Gazos Creek Beach had me amped up, stress-free, and hungry as a wolf. Driving back to The City, I veered off the Coast Highway towards Duarte’s Tavern & Restaurant in the tiny town of Pescadero.I stepped off the street into the near-empty barroom and got a welcoming hello from the bartender, a proper old-timer in a white shirt and vest with “Tom” neatly stenciled on a brass name tag.I asked if the restaurant was open yet. He said, Twenty minutes so I slid onto a stool and ordered a draft beer to pass the ...
Submitted to Contest #315
Back from the cemetery, I loosened my tie and sank into the recliner. My daughter gently draped a blanket over me, tucking it from knees to neck. “It’s been a long day, Dad. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” My eyes are closed, but I’m not asleep. Aromas of roasting ham and freshly baked bread drift from the kitchen. I hear tender laughter, jumbles of shared recollections, and the hush of sorrow. The fridge and the cabinet doors open and close; tableware clatters. Familiar feminine voices confer about how to arrange the buffet. When someo...
Submitted to Contest #314
Let me dispel the false rumor. There is just one winged dragon residing in Marin County, no more, no less. The solitary creature arrived when it was blown off course due to anomalies in the ocean and wind currents possibly due to global warming or some other ecological glitch. Zoologists have established that the creature is of the Asian, non-fire-breathing genus (Volans Draco).However, Those who have spent time with this strange creature say she seems not only to imitate words, like a parrot but, also understands human speech. This is a far...
Community On a November morning in 1998, a restaurant worker named Danisha Farrell stepped out of the alleyway door of Paula’s Café, dragging an overstuffed trash bag. She pushed up the dumpster lid and froze. Nestled among the coffee grounds and table scraps lay something impossibly small; wrinkled, naked, and bloody. Her breath caught. The heavy lid slammed down as she stumbled back, eyes wide with horror, before she ran back inside the diner shrieking, “Oh, my God! There’s a newborn baby girl in the garbage bin! Call 911!Within minutes, ...
Submitted to Contest #307
Sometimes We Get What We Need It was past midnight when my bus pulled into Redding Station and shut down its monotonous, droning engine. I grabbed my parka and my backpack and lurched up the empty aisle. The driver said, “Goodnight. Thanks for riding Greyhound”, as I stepped off and drew a long breath of diesel fumes that pass for fresh air at bus stations.Inside, the depot was a ghost town. The ticket windows and the refreshment counter were closed. The lobby area was vacant and only dimly illuminated by security lighting. That’s fine with ...
Submitted to Contest #287
As my flight to Honolulu was delayed at SFO, United Airlines offered a voucher for a 24-hour stopover. I collected my bag and joined thirty other stranded passengers at the departure curb where we boarded a charter bus. Our driver navigated through the airport maze and headed toward San Francisco on Highway 101. Late afternoon commuter’s car lights wove wispy red and yellow ribbons on the fog-shrouded freeway. The other passengers chatted about how they would spend the evening in the city, making the best of a disappointing situation with a ...
Submitted to Contest #284
The alarm clock jarred me out of a dreamy slumber. I yawned, stretched, and gazed at the lazily spinning ceiling fan before tossing off the quilt and pushing my bony feet into cushy lambswool slippers. Using a cane I walked warily across the carpet to my veranda where I drew a long breath of honeysuckle-scented air and viewed the radiant sunrise. Today, September 2, 2006, is my birthday. I’m one hundred years old. It’s a serene morning, but a century of calms before storms brings a flurry of pins and needles. Later today I’ll be surrounded ...
Submitted to Contest #276
Team Building As the workday dragged to a close, my phone pinged with a text message: “Bob. Stop by my office before you leave.” I couldn’t resist punching the air with a triumphant “Yes”! before striding from my bullpen cubicle to the Director of Marketing’s glass-walled office. Keeping his phone at his ear, the Big Man beamed a welcoming smile and motioned toward a chair in front of his desk. I walked in and sat as he concluded the call. We indulged in a minute of everyday chitchat. He praised my work and asked me to say hello to my...
Submitted to Contest #270
My Journey to Nicasio The alarm clock jarred me out of a dreamy slumber. I yawned, stretched, and gazed at the lazily spinning ceiling fan before tossing off the quilt and pushing my bony feet into cushy lambswool slippers. Using a cane I walked warily across the carpet to my veranda where I drew a long breath of honeysuckle-scented air and viewed the radiant sunrise. Today, September 2, 2006, is my birthday. I’m one hundred years old. It’s a serene morning, but a century of calms before storms brings a flurry of pins and needles. Later to...
Submitted to Contest #265
The Layover My connecting flight from SFO was postponed so United Airlines compensated me with a voucher for a 24-hour layover. After picking up my bag I joined thirty other stranded passengers at the departure curb where we boarded a charter bus roughly two hours after the scheduled Honolulu departure time. Our driver navigated through the airport maze and headed toward San Francisco. Trails of car lights wove wispy red and yellow ribbons on the foggy freeway. Commuters were heading home. The other passengers talked about restaurants they ...
Submitted to Contest #256
Towards the end of a long work day my phone pinged a text message; “Bob. Stop by my office before leaving.” “Yes!” I punched the air then strode from my bullpen cubicle to the Director of Marketing's glass-walled office. Keeping his phone at his ear, the Big Man beamed a welcoming smile and motioned toward a chair in front of his desk. I walked in and sat as he concluded the call. We indulged in a minute of everyday chitchat. He praised my work and asked me to say hello to my wife Laura for him. Then, he looked down reflexively drumm...
Submitted to Contest #254
I take lunch breaks at a book store within walking of my job. I can relax there and browse a magazine, eat a blueberry scone, and drink coffee before returning to the Computer Store. After my six hour shift, I work out at a gym called “24 Hour Fitness.” Hotties favor big guns, pecs, six-packs, and stamina. I get bonus credit for brains when I let them know I’m a “Computer Technician.” Today, I was carrying a book Cynthia gave me, so when the super-cute barista decanted my Café’ Americano and handed me the scone my trip to the table was a bal...
Submitted to Contest #249
During my grad school days at the University of San Francisco, I spent my nights behind the bar at Varni’s Roaring Twenties, a classy, energetic nightclub in the historic Jackson Square district.Varni’s, housed in a Barbary Coast-era brick building was transformed to capture the ambiance of a 1920s speakeasy. We had a trad jazz band that played prohibition-era music. Clientele danced solo or as couples, to classic moves: The Charleston, The Black Bottom, The Shimmy, and The Texas Tommy.The décor and the melodies paid homage to the Roaring Tw...
I was the lone passenger left aboard when my bus pulled into the Redding bus station. It was after midnight when its droning Diesel engine finally shut down after eight monotonous hours. I grabbed my parka and my backpack and lurched up the aisle toward the open door. The driver said, “Goodnight. Thanks for riding Greyhound”, as I stepped off and drew a long breath of the fumes that pass for fresh air at bus stations. Inside, the depot was a ghost town. The ticket windows and the refreshment counter had closed. The lobby area was vacant and ...
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