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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2020
Submitted to Contest #75
I grew up in a poor-family setting where alcoholism was ever-present. My step-father did not like me, and I liked him even less. I spent much of my preteen and teenage years on the streets trying to earn money to feed myself. I sold newspapers on street corners, often staying out all night long. Also, I sold another newspaper, The Grit, which I received weekly through the mail. I took this door to door or sold them at the entrance of one of our local grocery stores. I sometimes ordered greeting cards and garden seeds from the ads in co...
Submitted to Contest #74
I have lived on the streets as far back as I can remember, never having a place to call home. Oh, it hasn’t been too bad as I have not had to answer to anybody and I’m free to wander in whichever direction I might choose. I lived anywhere I lay my head down to sleep. Mostly alleyways, abandoned buildings, or fields. When I felt like it was time for a nap I’d just find myself a comfortable spot and lay my head down and snooze. I’d often go without having something to eat which made me look a bit unsightly with my ribs showing through my ...
My hands were bound behind me as I was being led out of the jailhouse. The sun hit me square in the eyes and I had to squint. We walked a short distance and turned the corner. I could then see what all the hammering noise was I had been hearing from my cell. Of course I already knew what was going on. After all, this was the reason for my being in the jail. As we turned the corner I could see the crowd that had gathered to see my demise. Didn’t these people have anything better to do with their miserable lives? This will likely be the m...
Submitted to Contest #72
James Kennedy was a tall, well-built man of thirty-six years of age. He kept his head shaved smooth because he had started getting a bald spot on the top of his head while still in his mid-twenties. He figured that it may have been hereditary because his father had a receding hairline, but he did not rule out that it could have been caused from the stress from his occupation. He was a detective at the Southside Police Precinct where he had worked for the past fourteen years. He had worked the streets for the first ten years before gett...
I gazed upon the plate sitting in front of me. A nice Porterhouse Steak, a baked potato slathered with butter, sour cream, chives, and bacon bits. A glass of tea. A meal fit for a king or even perfect as a last meal for the condemned. I had not tasted a meal that looked as good as this one in a long time. I wanted to savor it to the very last bite. When my meal was finished I decided to lay back, relax, and allow my meal to digest. I let my thoughts wander as I nodded off into slumber. Soon I was dressing for an evening out. Nothing special ...
Submitted to Contest #70
The old two-story wooden Victorian house stood at the end of the cul-de-sac. It had once been one of the grandest homes in the small town but now was in dire need of repair. The light blue paint that had covered the exterior walls was now faded until almost white and much of it had peeled showing decaying boards. Shingles were missing from the roof. The landscape that had once been adorned with beautiful flower gardens and neatly trimmed grass was now overgrown with weeds and unkept shrubs. Except for the dim glow of light that shone through...
Submitted to Contest #65
The phone rang and Tommy answered. Hello. Hey, Tom. It was Harold, Tom’s best friend. What’s up, Harold? Do you have any plans for Halloween night yet? No, not really. Trick-or-treating may be out of the question at my age, Tommy kidded. Yeah, but I have an idea of a way we could have some fun with the trick or treaters. Fun? What kind of fun? Throwing rotten eggs at them might get us into trouble. The last time we tried to prank someone we got the tables turned on us. Do you remember that? Oh, yeah. You mean ...
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