William Richards

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2021

Stories (16)

16 Stories

484 karma pts

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“Cage” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #271

Trigger Warning: Themes of alcoholism, grief, and terminal illness. Sometimes I worry I’ll be struck off the medical register. It's a constant threat to my self-belief, a nagging doubt. Make a mistake, struck off. Be unprofessional, struck off. And if you are lucky enough to avoid that fate, then you still get the pleasure of a disciplinary process where you're treated like a criminal. It’s why I am so clinical and keep my emotions under control. Be the perfect human-robot and you conform. It’s no way to live. But perhaps it helps us deliver...

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“Marmite-Jam” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #269

I got home from university, wiped my shoes against the bristles of the welcome home mat, opened the door, and expected a kiss to greet me as I entered the house. Instead, I shivered as winter air chilled me inside the gloomy abode. I flicked the light switch on and the parchment-yellow lampshade illuminated the hallway. I glanced around for any signs of her, but the rest of the house was dark. The image from that morning when she threw up her hands and said, “No cup of tea?” popped into my head. “Martha?” I called. Maybe she was ...

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“The Khar D’ashia” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #268

I sat with my mother-in-law in silence. My wife's idea and I would do anything to make her happy: to have brunch with her mother and her mother’s friends in the rest home dining hall, waited upon by nurses. If I told you it was the happiest moment in my life, I would be lying. We sat at a drab table-clothed table, four of us having the privilege of spending time together. There was a faint damp smell in the air like the carpets had been specially cleaned for the occasion. One diner at our table was an old man, maybe from India, who didn't s...

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“Monarch in the Garden” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #222

Beth sat on the wooden garden bench in the sunshine. A British summer’s day. One of the few months of warmth, between the grey and dreary times.She felt lonely, she realised, despite the glorious day, despite the glorious bird chatter, despite the pleasing wafts of chrysanthemum, and despite the soothing sound of the fountain. To appease the loneliness, she fed the birds.From the bench, she scattered bird food in the grass, and watched the sparrows make reckless lunges and hop off proudly with morsels of food. She loved to feed the birds, ev...

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“Lady with a Lantern” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #204

TW: death, some horror * * * The hospital was like the wild west. Diseases the bad guys taking people down. Doctors the sheriffs trying to make things right. Patients dying from lost shoot outs. And a sense of lawlessness. The fact that no one seemed to be in charge. The fact that things happened here that shouldn't happen in civilised society. People would be doing fine and then suddenly – flat line. The resuscitation team arrived and did their best but the patients would die. No one batted an eyelid. It's where I met the lady with a ...

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“A Song of Friends and Lovers” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #202

Our friendship was so special to me, I thought of it like a song. My favourite song. We kept it on repeat. I glance around. We're all waiting to board the flight and we all know it should have started ten minutes ago. There's no reason offered for the delay. It gives me time to read the email I wrote again. It gives me time to decide whether to send it or not. It was one of those beautiful songs, that was true, touching and eternal. Written by mother earth herself. A sound the earth makes, that water makes, that the wind makes in the tre...

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“6 p.m.” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #198

My desk was near the front of the class. Every two weeks there were exams and your place in the room got updated. The smart kids were made to sit at the back. I think they wanted to inspire us to work harder. But it felt like being branded stupid sitting up front. The class was silent except for the occasional sniffle, someone tapping their pen, and Mrs Price walking up and down. She was one of the younger teachers. Well, she wasn't as ancient as Mrs Gilbert in any case. And she took care of herself more. Like her skin was always perfect...

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“Future Gazing” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #196

“Thank you for coming, please take a seat,” the interviewer said without looking up. I wondered how many people she’d seen today. It was a game of numbers after all. Finding the perfect candidate. You just had to look into enough futures and eventually you get a great match. I sat on the rigid white chair beside her silver desk. She looked at a tablet, shook her head, and dropped it in a hole marked ‘reject'. She grabbed a new one and looked at me for the first time. Her eyes were intense and blue. It felt like she was assessing me alr...

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“Coffee, Hotto.” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #177

It was the day after I arrived in Japan, and now the buzz of getting here had subsided, I realised I craved the buzz of a cup of coffee. There was no kettle, English tea or instant coffee in the accommodation where we were staying, an inner city apartment that I was sharing with Jack, the other sophomore here for a semester of mathematics and good food. I hustled up and down a few streets for a convenience store. I found one, nestled among high-rise buildings, down the third street I searched. It was plastered in screens showing bright a...

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“Living and Dying” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #176

“Let me get this straight. You want me to wait here with you, in this chair, on this porch, and not go anywhere for the next twenty-four hours, or I’m going to die?” asked Martin. Fred nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s right. We have to try and do something different this time. Please believe me. I can’t watch you die again.” “Die again? Are you mad?” Fred took a gulp like he was trying to swallow something unpleasant. “I’ve seen you die about fifty times and this is the first time I’ve levelled with you. You must believe me.” Ma...

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“Boarder” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #119

A sound wakes me from sleep and my eyes open, unseeing in the darkness. My stomach churns. I’m sure someone was crying? My ears strain for more, any further hint of sound that could act as a clue. But it’s quiet. Crying in itself is not that unusual around here. People cry all the time. After a bollocking from the duty teacher, it’s not unusual to cry yourself to sleep. But this whimper happened in the dead of night for no apparent reason. And it sounded like a girl’s cry. Which can’t be right. This is the boy’s floor.I listen hard but there...

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“Ringgit in My Pocket” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #98

There are no waves, but the ferry drifts in and out, its metallic ramp easing back and forth on top of the tarmac of the road that disappears into the river. It’s a gentle two-step of the river's current being countered by the ferry's engine. It’s disconcerting. They’ve laid planks of wood to drive upon so that car tyres do not spin out in patches of river water that come and go randomly. They’ve got to be joking, right? But they’re not. And I’m up next. If I want to make it to the other bank to get the hell out of here then I’ll need to m...

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“It's Alright” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #96

When I saw the mouse in the guest room, I shrieked louder than I cried today. The shriek startled us both. The mouse bolted, jumped high in the air and then scurried away someplace. I don't know where, because I scurried away someplace too. It's been the worst day of my life but all I can think about is how big his ears were and how high it jumped for such a little thing. It seemed impossible. I'm pouring myself a sherry in the kitchen. I know you'd disapprove. It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. But my nerves are shot. Truly. What a ...

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“The Sins that Betray Us” by William Richards

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #94

A fictional moment in the life of Eugène Vidocq, the criminal turned criminalist *** It was a warm Parisienne evening and fog rose from the Seine. It mingled with the smog of industry and clouded the gas street lights that dimly lit cobblestone streets. Beside the Seine, in the 4th arrondissement, was La Force Prison, within which was the man Eugène Vidocq, whose wrists were shackled to the dungeon wall by cold steel chains and ankles bound by manacles. Eugène had black, curly hair and long, thick sideburns that taunted the corners of ...

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“One of the Sullen” by William Richards

Submitted to Contest #93

Why do I love drawing so much? It’s a question I’ve never been able to answer. The feel of the pencil etching into the page, the gentle scratching sound of graphite clinging to paper, it's a mesmerising, mindful pursuit.I’m a realism drawer, I do sketches that are like black and white photos. It takes ages but it's pure pleasure. Lost in that world, my concerns and anxieties slip away, and the joy of creating takes over.Sometimes I just sketch, quickly, rather than trying to be too precise, to get the impression of something. Like a photogra...

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Author bio

I'm an amateur writer trying to get better. I'm trying to get a win under my belt. I was lucky with a shortlisted story, and chasing that high again. Now that Reedsy only seems to award a first place and two short listed stories, I'm proud to say I've come joint fourth on many occasions. Check out my YouTube page, with my other pen name, Richard R. Raleigh: https://youtube.com/@richardrraleigh?si=f0MGBtTP5RyzZl_q “A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.” ~ Richard Bach “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~ Maya Angelou "Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength." ~ Arnold Schwarzenegger "There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly: sometimes it’s like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.” ~ Ernest Hemingway "You read to have a good time. Why else would people go on doing it?" ~ Martin Amis “Find a subject you care about and which you in your heart feel others should care about. It is this genuine caring, not your games with language, which will be the most compelling and seductive element in your style.” ~ Stephen King "What is the purpose of fiction? To give people what they don’t get in real life." ~ Lee Child "[Writing what you know is] dreadful advice... What you must do is write what you feel." ~ Lee Child “You should write the fast stuff slow and the slow stuff fast." ~ Lee Child "Thought is the enemy of flow." ~ Vinnie Colaiuta

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #94

The Sins that Betray Us – read story