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Aaron Bowen

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2023

Stories (7)

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9 Followers

4 Following

7 Stories

140 karma pts

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BY CRAFT OR VIOLENCE OF NO MAN

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #332

The stranger stops walking at dusk, and makes a cold camp in unfenced woodland, where two barbed wire fences come together at an oblique angle along one side of the ruining highway. Toward dusk, he grubs in his pack, and draws from it a flute of wood and bone, its oily, dark surface tattooed in whorls of grain that swim into, and then out of the finger holes. A grooved, white cylinder of bone crowns it, and the stranger makes a small music by blowing into this. Then, when night falls, and he huddles deep into the warmth of his bedroll, cra...

3 likes

The Memory of the Devouring Flower

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #298

On the eve of departure, the red and yellow lights blazing above the northern sky— likely tantalizing the barbarous semi-humans who inhabited that frozen and unforgiving waste— the High Hyliadora, Dorna Corynelle, approached her least disastrous acolyte for final instructions.“You are to weed and water while we are gone on pilgrimage,” she said, hissing her words through tight lips.Should I remember to eat and drink as well? Perhaps to breathe?“Yes, High Hyliadora,” said Lysariel. “It shall be done.”The priestess regarded her acolyte with un...

6 likes

The Insufferable Silence of the Sun

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #294

Despite all efforts to the contrary, his features cracked in a small, knowing smile.Watching the drama of human weakness unfold had that effect on Manny. Only briefly, though. Stare too long, and you might burn your eyes; it was like looking at the sun. So, shortly, he looked away, concealing his pleasure at the woman’s obvious discomfort, though he continued to track her progress from his peripheral vision.She was petite, and her cropped, curly black hair bobbed with the rhythm of her exit, her face alternating between expressions...

12 likes

The Implications of Savagery For the Nuclear Family On Holiday

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #271

Crispy shreds of fried potato broke beneath the press of the well-used fork I wielded in my right hand.  Then, a liminal moment of spearing and lifting before— sublime pleasure— a bite crackled between a crown and a filling.  Latkes, it would seem, were every bit as addictive as I’d been led to believe by one of the myriad Youtube videos my wife and I had watched about food in the waning hours of our shared evenings.  Channel name and creator’s face forgotten, all that remained, crystalline in my memory, was the content and it...

10 likes

BEAUTY CONFRONTING MONSTROSITY

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #243

Little Lissa rose from her bedroll in the closet as the first lights of morning crept beneath the curtain that divided her domain from the cathouse beyond. Out there, the air would be breathless with the memories of swirling silk and the creak of boots on floorboards when patrons had danced the girls to the rhythm of Annie’s mandolin. Ghostly aromas of whiskey and perfume still clung to the air, a grim reminder that Lissa’s days of wearing finery and being courted for her favors were over, dead as the dust that coated everything in...

11 likes

WHEN THEY LEARN TO SPEAK IN THE VOICES OF OUR DEAD

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #238

1 The fingers that lay the tea tray onto the polished, dark wood of the table imitated humanity immaculately except in one particular: the skin was a stately navy blue.  Millicent Braddock avoided touching them as they handed her a bone-white cup of Earl Grey, sweetened and creamed just to her liking, plumes of steam curling off its dark surface like the ghost of a bergamot fruit.  Somehow, her favorite drink with her closest (living) friend did nothing to comfort her; instead, their presence in the flat seemed vulgar.  Spoile...

13 likes

THE LONG DEATH OF THE NATURAL HORSE

Aaron Bowen

Submitted to Contest #235

The sterile floor clicked beneath the steel couplings affixed to the soles of Evinflo Calabash’s knee-high boots.  He passed stalls, as he went, and from each he heard the hiss and beep of the systems that assured the veterinary engineer that the horses were functioning normally.   Beyond the windows, he could hear the crowd beginning to gather in the stands, and could almost picture the white of boater hats, linen suits, and hoop-skirted dresses.  A muscle in his neck twitched, and he slapped at it, approaching his anim...

9 likes