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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2024
Submitted to Contest #263
As a bureaucrat of strict procedural righteousness, Lancelot Tickles loved overly complicated paperwork. Lancelot challenged himself to turn the simplest administrative process into the most tediously convoluted and nightmarishly improbable task possible. He throttled innovation and strangled interdepartmental cooperation. He buried every assignment, function or undertaking in a grave of administrative trivia. Tickles dreamed of bringing down entire governments through mind-numbing paperwork, impossible approvals, and infuriatingly jargon-fi...
Submitted to Contest #262
Becoming nobody. Standing alone, isolated, no longer heard or seen. "I'm still here," I said. No answer. Powerful feelings. Looking out across the rolling sage foothills just west of the mountains, at the base of the massive volcanic plug that dominated the western skyline, I felt the sun’s early promise of another blasting, battering day of heat on my face. The scent of moist soil and decomposed plants gave way to pungent herbal sage. The volcanic rock smelled minty metallic as the sun rose. I abandoned the prearranged landing zone two d...
Submitted to Contest #261
“Sixth grade,” I said. “Twelve years old.” Outside it was cold. A gray, relentlessly dismal rain fell. I watched out the window, enjoyed the misery of the day. It matched my on-going depression. “Mr. Moore’s social studies class. In the old annex. Droning voice. Sagging shoulders. Dismay.” Teaching as defeated as the failing building, I thought. The coffee at the Cafe Caliphate was the best. Rich and aromatic. Hot, black coffee in a substantial ceramic mug. I savored the touch and taste. “There was an old analog kind of clock, remember ...
Submitted to Contest #260
This hardwood forest has the fragrance of safety and peace. Silent, except for the early spring breeze wishing through the leaves, the curious rustling in the underbrush and the enormous gentle sound of the birds in the trees. I’m sitting on a bench in a woodland clearing, with a panoramic view of greening hills and hollows rolling into the deep distance, as far as the eye can see or the mind can imagine. A lifetime. The boundaries of mortality are thinner, less durable. This body has contained me for so long and so well. Soon it will be ti...
Submitted to Contest #259
Lenore Lamore, of the Lemming Lamores, regarded the frumpy bespectacled gentleman before her with an imposing, regal stare. She did not appear favorably impressed. “I am delighted to oversee this critical research, to help us better understand the strengths and weaknesses of our democratic systems,” said Dr. Duglen Tribbens, Co-founder of the Tribbens-Dufort Research Group. He bowed stiffly, spoke formally. “Indeed,” said Lenore. Her expression suggested an unwelcome odor. “I will unveil the Freedom Initiative at a press conference in…...
Submitted to Contest #258
Six—maybe seven—decades ago I worked at Peaceful Sands Research Institute, out west in the high desert. We called it Peaceful, for short. It was a top secret government facility. We tested experimental aircraft and developed all sorts of weapons of mass destruction.Many areas on the base were off-limits, required special clearance. Security and secrets came with the work I did and the agencies I worked for. But something felt wrong on this base. I was young, had a keen eye, an inquiring mind and not a lot of good sense. I took pictures. Hid ...
Submitted to Contest #257
Adelbert Ambros Lajlos stood in silent contemplation at the podium. After a moment he warmed to the receptive audience—a defense industry crowd. His talk was entitled Game Theory and War: The Downfall of the Red Empire. He spoke quietly, confidentially, to these his special friends and colleagues.“It is us or them,” said Ambros. “There is no other way. It is inevitable.” He paused to put on his genuine sadness face. “Millions—no, hundreds of millions—will die. But they are the enemy. We must build this revolutionary bomb, which has been name...
Submitted to Contest #256
Matin Dofolo sat at his usual table on the open patio of the Cafe Caliphate. His favorite after school treat, a splendidly creamy strawberry milkshake, awaited his attention. He took a moment to appreciate the warming late afternoon March sun. The air was freshly cleansed by a recent rain shower. He wore his favorite shirt. He was content. For a moment. A striking woman of indeterminate age approached his table. Older, he thought, then corrected himself. Mature is more appropriate. Slender and diminutive, her silky black hair cascaded wildl...
Submitted to Contest #255
Absolute stillness. Silence. The predawn hour was the time that fear and loss and guilt played cruelly with his mind. Regret ruled, easy and seductive. He had reached too far. Expected too much. Friends died because of it, families torn apart because the job was more important. Today was the end of it. Dax Dufort breathed deeply, shook the mood off.Dax wrapped his hands around his favorite coffee mug. He took pleasure in the shape and weight and warmth. This was real. He could touch it. He savored the morning’s first sip of fresh brewed hot ...
Submitted to Contest #254
The child Sebastian Destinato was a socially unwelcome circumstance labeled in the habit of the times as developmentally backward. At the age of three years people avoided eye contact with him for fear that he might speak or gesture toward them, that they might be expected to respond, that he might want something from them. They looked right through him because it was convenient to pretend he did not exist. Young Sebastian did not process sensory information gracefully. He became distraught at certain noises or movements. He rejected th...
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