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Alex Marmalade

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

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150 Stories

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Desert Veins

The scent hit Ibrahim first—metallic and primal, like wet earth mixed with decay. It bubbled up from the ground where his camel had stumbled, a black viscous pool spreading across the sand. The desert sunset cast long shadows as he knelt beside it, dipping his fingers into the strange substance."Allah provides in mysterious ways," he whispered, watching the oil drip from his fingertips.Ibrahim Al-Fadil had not set out to find oil. At thirty-five, he sought only what every Bedouin guide desired: safe passage for his British employers across t...

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Suspended Sentence

The fever had finally broken. Three nights of delirium—his body alternately burning and freezing, mind spinning with hallucinations so vivid they left him gasping—had left prisoner 237 hollow-eyed and weak, but lucid.He lay on his thin mattress, watching dawn seep through the barred window. Gray light. Gray walls. Gray existence. Four years in this Siberian hellhole had leached the color from everything, including himself."Still alive then?" Zakhar, the cell's elder resident, peered down at him through rheumy eyes. A former Orthodox priest i...

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Last Night at The End of the World

Jack Rosenthal's hands trembled slightly as he slid the VHS into the tape cleaner, the machine's familiar whirring a metronome to another pointless day at Blockbuster Video #4873. Through the storefront windows, summer sunset painted the parking lot gold, illuminating the "CLOSING SALE: EVERYTHING MUST GO" banner hanging crookedly above the entrance. Three more days until the store joined the growing constellation of empty retail spaces across town."I don't understand why anyone would want this piece of garbage," Jack muttered, eyeing the bo...

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Fluid Balance Chart

Dr. Farida Abdel-Aziz twisted the cap off her water bottle, the morning light filtering through the cramped changing room window. Her pager hadn't beeped in ninety seconds—a new record for St. Barnabas Hospital. She closed her eyes, feeling her parched throat constrict as she tilted the bottle upward.The cool liquid was millimeters from her lips when her pager erupted."Christ on a bicycle," she muttered, then crossed herself automatically—her mother's influence lingering like Catholic guilt. The display read: CARDIAC ARREST, WARD 7B.She bolt...

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Signal in the Noise

The squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum creates a mental map for Samuel. Three years ago, he memorized each corridor of Sunnyvale Care Center by its unique sound signature. The pediatric ward has a high-pitched squeak; the admin wing, where Dr. Warren's office lies, produces a duller friction. Samuel navigates this auditory landscape the way sailors once traversed oceans by stars."Your eighteenth birthday tomorrow is a milestone, Samuel." Dr. Warren's cologne—sandalwood masking something sour—announces his presence before his voice does...

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Hide and Squeak

Weekly Contest #299

I press my ear to the floorboards, counting the footsteps below. Four soldiers. Maybe five. Their boots scrape against the bakery floor, methodical in their search pattern. Beside me, Sofia stifles a giggle, her small body practically vibrating with the effort of keeping still."Shh, little mouse," I whisper, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Remember the game?"She nods, dark curls bouncing against her round cheeks, and clamps both hands over her mouth. Her eyes, large and luminous in the dim light filtering through the cracks, sparkle with exc...

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Punchline Purgatory

Weekly Contest #299

Harry Newberry ruled the stage like a precision instrument, delivering each syllable with meticulous timing. Under the spotlight at The Laugh Factory, his final minutes flowed perfectly."So I'm at this fancy Manhattan restaurant, right? The kind where they don't list prices because if you have to ask, you can't afford it." Harry paused. "The waiter describes the special with such reverence, I swear he's performing a monologue from 'Hamilton.' 'Tonight we have a locally-sourced, pan-seared diver scallop nestled on a bed of microgreens, kissed...

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Western Union Starlight

Weekly Contest #299

"Baba, I found another joke book at the library. This one has to work," Neda said, dropping her backpack on the kitchen counter. She pulled out a worn paperback with a cartoon elephant balancing on a ball. "Look, it's called 'Trunk Full of Laughs.' That's funny already, right?"Mahmoud Rahimi barely looked up from the pile of receipts he was organizing. "Very clever," he said without a hint of amusement. His weathered face remained stoic, the crow's feet around his eyes evidence of smiles from long ago."You didn't even look at it!" Neda prote...

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Last Name Basis

The chef's knife disappeared beneath my trembling fingers as I stared at the email glowing on my phone—confirmation for an 8:45 PM reservation at Umami, the most exclusive sushi restaurant in Seattle."Ya salam!" I exclaimed to my empty apartment. My cat Mochi—named during a misguided Japanese food phase—looked at me with typical disdain before returning to her grooming.My name—Jon Khoury—glowed on the screen. I hadn't made this reservation.Which could only mean one thing: there was another Jon Khoury out there. My name doppelganger had someh...

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The Excuse Artist

Every Tuesday at 7:30 PM, the "Life in Progress" group met in the crumbling community center off Maple Street. The building had once been a church, then a theater, then something involving crystals that nobody talked about. Now it housed various recovery groups, each with their designated room and coffee setup.Room C's fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting everyone in a sickly pallor that matched their collective mood. Six metal folding chairs formed an uneven circle, and in the center sat a small table with a nearly empty box...

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Vox Potestas

Weekly Contest #298

Marcus Severus flinched as the scroll fell to the table."Another denial from the Treasury," Tribune Cassius Albinus said, his voice measured but eyes sharp. "The fourth this month. Yet somehow the Ninth always receives their full stipend."Marcus avoided his commander's gaze, studying the worn tabletop in the officer's quarters. Twenty-two years of service had taught him when to speak and when to remain silent. This moment demanded the latter."Look at me, Centurion."Marcus raised his eyes, meeting the Tribune's stare. Something unspoken passe...

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First Gear

Weekly Contest #298

"Yalla, left here," Mr. Farooq directed, pointing toward an alleyway between the Emirates NBD building and a construction site. "Time for special maneuver practice."Maryam Al Zaabi hesitated, her hands tightening on the wheel of the training car. This wasn't their usual route. Through the windshield, the afternoon sun glinted harshly off the glass towers, the humidity making the air shimmer despite the car's struggling air conditioning."But sir, we normally practice in Al Manhal district," she said, the slight musical lilt of Gulf Arabic sti...

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Minister of Meadowbrook

Weekly Contest #298

Joseph measured precise sugar into Mrs. Patel's tea—one and a half spoons, three clockwise stirs. Ten years at Meadowbrook Care Home had made these rituals as natural as checking ministerial briefings once was.Through the window, cherry blossoms swirled against Manchester's grey. Ten English springs since fleeing Kubaya. Ten years reconstructing identity from exile's fragments.His phone vibrated with Thandiwe's text: Don't forget dinner with vicar. Buy wine. NOT that roadside vinegar you brought last time.He smiled, typing: Yes, madam comman...

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Blossom After Broken

Weekly Contest #298

The knife sliced through yellowfin tuna with surgical precision. Kai's hands moved automatically, muscle memory from training he'd tried to forget. Chef Tanaka's voice echoed: "The fish feels your hesitation."But the fish didn't know about the text message burning in Kai's pocket, the eviction notice on his door, or the three-year void where his family used to be."Order up, table nine!" The expediter's Brooklyn accent cut through the kitchen steam.Kai slid the platter across the pass. Another meal for tourists who couldn't distinguish art fr...

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Surface Tension

Weekly Contest #298

"Absolutely not." Richard Chen slammed his palm against the mahogany table, sending ripples across his whiskey. "I won't have Abigail risking her life for some posthumous power play."Abby clutched the cream envelope from her grandmother's lawyer, already opened despite her father's demand to see it first. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a familiar anxiety tightening her chest—the same feeling that had shadowed her throughout childhood whenever she'd dared to take up space in the Chen family orbit."It's my decision," she said, hating the...

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