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Atlas Geminhart

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2025

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4 Stories

34 karma pts

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Harlan

Crunch.  It’s been fifteen minutes now, and no sign of the golden boy. Ledger’s eyes are wide open scanning the room for Harlan to no avail. His hand instinctively goes to the side of his head, fingers wrapping around a dark curl, fidgeting, tugging, twisting. Crunch goes the apple as he bites into it. A tray clatters, some boys laugh. His eyes flicker from one side to another. Where is he? If there is one thing Ledger knows, it’s that Harlan would never bail. But he already did, didn’t he?  Crunch. Ledger had stood in the cold, wa...

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Letter Delivered to the Ocean From the Sorana Desert

Weekly Contest #371

I don’t know where it comes from, the sudden burst of adrenaline that lets me run up the steep highway. Maybe I’d be able to explain it if I hadn’t seen the building before, if its unexpected sight had excited me beyond measure and made my feet run, run, run. But I saw the blue Rest Area sign a long time ago, and have been marching towards the building for the past week. The soles of my shoes are worn almost right through, and I can feel the road’s heat coming off in waves. It doesn’t matter. My backpack smacks against my back with every ste...

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Whiplash

Weekly Contest #370

June 21st, year 1700“Patience,” preached my father, “is the human quality closest to sainthood.” At the ripe age of ten, I had heard the sermon a thousand times over, an’ it did nothin’ to calm my nerves. As patient as my father was, there was not much of it left over to listen to my worries. We had been set off course by the winds, a usual happening aboard the Argenta. Danzig was supposed to have come into view days ago. I had already asked old Eli Baker why we hadn’t yet docked more than a million times. The Argenta was a dangerous brig. M...

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19th of February, 2025

He woke up with no memory, but for an instant, as his eyes opened, he remembered being in his mother’s womb. He remembered safety, but not when the dark warmth was replaced with sterile fluorescents, and the smell of oranges—a smell of his childhood—had been replaced with the sting of antiseptics. Somewhere near him a machine beeped, matching his heartbeat. He looked around, cold, thousands of little tubes protruding his skin. His clothes were gone, replaced by a paper-thin “gown”. A doctor walked in, checked the machines, wrote something do...

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