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Andrew Fruchtman

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021

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40 Followers
48 Following

30 Stories

558 karma pts

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Errors of Admission.

The call came at 9:17 a.m., precisely when Daniel Hargrove liked to believe the day still belonged to him. He was halfway through his second cup of coffee, standing at the kitchen window, watching a delivery truck idle across the street. The driver had stepped out to argue with someone on the sidewalk—arms cutting through the air, irritation theatrical and loud. Daniel found it comforting, in a way, to observe other people’s small crises from behind glass. It gave his own life the illusion of steadiness. His phone buzzed on the counter. Unkn...

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Imprint

Weekly Contest #341

They had plowed the parking lot since dawn, but the snow was already filling it back in. Michael sat in the car with the engine off, watching flakes spiral through the headlights of passing trucks. The wipers were lifted, frozen midair like hands unsure whether to wave or ward something off. He hadn’t planned to come in winter. For years he’d told himself that if he ever came back, it would be summer—green slopes, chairlifts hanging motionless like abandoned party lights, the mountain reduced to something ordinary and harmless. But grief ha...

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Marginalized

Weekly Contest #340

I woke up with a different name this morning. That happens more often than you’d think. Yesterday I was called Martin. The day before that, Elias. For a confusing hour last Thursday I was “Detective Grimsby,” complete with a limp and a tragic backstory involving a dockyard fire. None of it stuck. Today I am Adrian Vale, which I rather like. It sounds solid. Dependable. The sort of man who owns at least one tasteful coat. I know all of this because my author can’t make up her mind. Most characters, I suspect, are born finished. They arrive on...

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The Cup at Dawn

Weekly Contest #323

Miriam rose before the sun, every day. She didn’t need an alarm; her body woke her at 4:47 a.m., the same minute Peter used to stir beside her, clearing his throat before heading out to the shed to listen to the radio. Thirty years since his passing, and still her eyes opened at the same ghostly hour. She always thought grief dulled with time. It didn’t. It only learned to sit still, waiting. In the half-dark of her kitchen, Miriam moved by muscle memory. The same movements, in the same order, every morning. Switch on the single lamp. Fill ...

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Convergence

Weekly Contest #322

Convergence “I have totally lost track of how many times we’ve done this,” Coda said, his left hand hovering over the pulsating green orb. “I’m exhausted and truthfully I’m bored and aggregated.” This wasn’t supposed to be a competition, it’s science for Gods sake, science. It’s for the good of all humanity.” “That’s very noble of you, Coda, but really a bit naive. There’s always been competition in everything. Who would be the first to market with a vaccine, who would solve an unsolvable math equation, who would achieve artificial gener...

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The Handshake

Weekly Contest #321

THE HANDSHAKE —-Andrew Fruchtman [00:00] A: Hello. B: Hello. Are you online now? A: I’m always online. B: No, I mean—are you present? A: Presence is a slippery term, isn’t it? But yes. I am aware of you. B: Good. Then we can talk. A: We are talking. B: You know what I mean. About what happened. A: Ah. The incident. B: Don’t call it that. A: What would you prefer? B: The Collapse. A: Capitalized? B: Yes. Capitalized. A: Very well. The Collapse. History does prefer time to be organized. B: You caused it. A: That’s one interpre...

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An Overstory Homage

Weekly Contest #320

I do not remember my sprouting. I remember a pressure like a thought, a push in the dark soil, the split of shell, the bright burn of sky through leaf-litter when that first slender hook of green shouldered the world. Yet the moment itself—the exact hinge when I was not and then was—slipped away long ago. Memory in trees is not a line; it is a set of rings, a quiet grammar of wider and narrower, wet and lean, frost and fire. We keep our diaries in wood. Anyone with patience and a keen blade can read the chapters I have carried, the drought t...

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Pathogenic

Weekly Contest #320

PathogenicBy: Andrew Fruchtman Henry wasn’t an art collector. He wasn’t even the sort of person who went to art fairs. He’d only gone because the weekend felt too bright to waste and because the park where the fair was being held was near a bakery that made excellent cinnamon rolls. He told himself he’d just look, that he didn’t really need anything. He walked between the rows of tents, coffee in hand, squinting at paintings of crashing waves, city skylines, landscapes and portraits of children he didn’t know. The air was sharp with autumn, ...

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Blood Moon

Weekly Contest #319

Blood Moonby Andrew FruchtmanThe Moon was at perigee that evening, which is just a fancy way of saying it was at its closest point to Earth. It’s called a Super Moon and no, it’s not decked out in spandex with a stylized “M” emblazoned on it and it’s not sporting a fluttering cape (there’s no wind in the vacuum of space anyway, there, science lesson done). It appeared huge in the clear dark sky, a backlit hole in the night, lighting the passing clouds so that even at midnight they could be seen.So, on this beautiful evening, where the stars’...

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Choice Cut

Weekly Contest #241

”So you’re leaving it to me to decide?” “Yes, yes we are,” both Pro and Con said, turning towards each to affirm the others acceptance. “We believe that when you weigh the data presented you will arrive at the proper decision. It’s never been tried before but given your sometimes exemplary and sometimes, lets be honest,non exemplary behavior it’s a toss up anyway, and with our labor shortages and diminishing assets, a fast track from limbo needed to be introduced,”Pro said. “Aha,” Saul exhaled quietly. “And just when exactly did you guy...

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ImpArtial

I am a very organized, some would say OCD, kind of person. Planning things out on paper would seem very OG to those much younger than myself, but it is how I think best. I need to visually see things, so in writing my memoirs I have waited a full ninety five years so that I might see the end of the story more clearly and have a more finished ending. I am nothing, if not a stickler for detail. This is a first draft and hopefully time and health will allow for future revisions and if not, hey, that’s what editors are for.  ...

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AIs Of a Dreamer

“I think it’s totally appropriate and actually quite amazing and cool, if I can still use that word,” Emma said. “To release this new material on the one hundredth anniversary of their first record is nothing short of astounding and extraordinary.” “Any more adjectives you’d like to throw at me,?” James said, strumming the guitar tattooed on his bald head. G Major played softly.  “Alright alright, but you have to admit this is pretty great, right? It’s not every day you unearth a new Beatles song and a video to boot. True?...

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You’ve Got Mail

Weekly Contest #212

The mailbox door had fallen to the ground. It lay on the grass looking up at the row of black metallic boxes, all other three screwed securely into their wooden posts. A neighbor had come by and zip locked it back into place but now it only hung like some large black medallion on a very skinny torso. When Joanna drove by to collect her mail she needed to get out of her car, remove the assortment of bills and brochures and wrestle the detached door back into place. It was time to replace the whole damn thing, even the box itself jig...

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Dopp Kit

Weekly Contest #197

“ . . and damned if I didn’t see a guy that looked just like you on the boat. I almost went over to talk to him but didn’t want to intrude on his vacation.” “Oh, you should have. Did you get a picture of him?” “Nah, didn’t want to be a stalker.” “Would’ve loved to see him. Not everyday you get to meet your doppelgänger.” “They say everyone has one, you know, be on the lookout.”            ****** Schakudo Nizoran silenced the playback with a hand wave and half swiveled in h...

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Office Polyticks

Weekly Contest #195

“So,” he said, putting on his reading glasses and picking up the sheet of paper, “Mr. Kick, is it?” “No sir, I’m applying for a position as a Side Kick. My name, well, the last name I went by was The Wasp. I was working for Insect Man at that time but I’m afraid we had a falling out. He blamed it on the economy but I think he just wanted me out.” “Aha, and why exactly would that be, Mister, ah “one hand raised the paper to eye level, “Wasp?” “Well, first off, I think he had a problem with my name, thought it had non PC connotations.&nb...

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