Webb Johnson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2021

Stories (25)

25 Stories

574 karma pts

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“My Journey To Nicasio” by Webb Johnson

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 ...

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“Team Building” by Webb Johnson

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...

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“My Journey To Nicasio” by Webb Johnson

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...

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“The Layover” by Webb Johnson

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 ...

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“Team Building” by Webb Johnson

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...

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“Going Together” by Webb Johnson

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...

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“My Reverie” by Webb Johnson

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...

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“The Interview” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #249

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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“Trip to Tomales” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #234

Trip to Tomales My clangy calendar alarm clock jars me out of a restless dream into an extraordinary reality. It's 8:00 AM, July 3, 2008 – my birthday - I'm one hundred years old. I toss off my quilted coverlet, swing out my legs, and put both feet on my oriental carpet. I’ll sit on the bed with my hands on my knees for a moment while I draw a long breath of the honey-suckle-scented air that's breezing through my veranda doors and ponder about the coming day. My ranch-style home will be filled with family and friends, just what I had in m...

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“Susan” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #230

I heard Susan. “Andrea, it’s so comforting to have you and Travis here.” Then, I realized it was Dolly, the only one of our three daughters who inherited her mother’s voice. I’m flopped in my TV chair. My eyes close. I hear quiet laughter, a jumble of shared memories, and a hush of sorrow. Appetizing aromas drift from the kitchen. The fridge and the cabinet doors open and close; tableware clatters. Familiar feminine voices confer about the buffet. Teenage cousins visit on the patio while their parents browse through our albums and chat a...

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“Pheasant Under Glass” by Webb Johnson

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #228

A reflection of the azure-blue sky must have been the last thing the ring-necked pheasant saw before he flew into my floor-to-ceiling panorama window. I heard the house rattling thud and rushed to my balcony where I found the stately bird looking like a pile of pretty feathers. Sadly, the angle of his neck, and his half-opened vacant eyes told me he was a goner. It was a distressing moment, for sure, but the home chef inside me soon pictured a steaming, crispy-skinned entree stuffed with apples and brown rice. The living and dying were don...

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“Emma's Gift” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #222

A good friend and colleague who knew I had several weeks of summer hiatus from teaching design at Claremont College, asked me if would volunteer to teach a summer school art class for high school freshmen. I agreed and this announcement was included in the Spring/Summer issue of the City Civic Arts Newsletter:   ’Scapes: Land and Sea. Learn to draw the world around us. For young artists interested in taking their drawing to a higher level. Explore a variety of subjects, developing an understanding of form, composition, line, ligh...

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“Sometimes We Get What We Need” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #219

I finally got to the Redding bus depot. After ten hours in a droning Greyhound, I was beaten and wanted nothing more than to stand up, stretch my body, get on solid ground, and try to relieve my mind about an upcoming do-or-die job interview. The meeting with three interviewers would include questions about my general knowledge of the position I’d applied for as well as my demeanor. A degree in Forestry from Oregon State was a huge plus but the job required the facility to deal affably with the general public as well as all the people I’d be...

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“The Whole Wide Whirl Writer's Guild” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #202

The Whole Wide Whirl Writer’s Guild The Whole Wide Whirl Writer’s Guild began when Libby Devlin placed an announcement on gather2gether dot com:  “Are you like me? Do you dream of becoming an author of praiseworthy literature? If you would like to be part of a small group that meets to discuss our writing with that dream in mind, please sign on. I’m thinking of calling our group The Whole Wide Whirl Writer’s Guild, but once we Gather2Gether we can decide on a better name if you please. Libby did not place any requisites to join. Sh...

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“Team Building” by Webb Johnson

Submitted to Contest #199

Team Building An hour after I got his text message I sat in front of the big man’s desk. He informed me that the selection committee had recommended Clara North for Regional Sales Coordinator. “It was a tough call, Bob. It came down to team building, and they think she has the edge over you. You’ll have other chances.” He walked me to the door with a hand on my shoulder then dashed back to pick up a humming phone. He gave me a thumbs-up send-off while saying, “Hi, Clara. Good news.” I dreaded the inescapable, mortifying talk with my...

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Author bio

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Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #228
Pheasant Under Glass – read story