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Christopher Linehan

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021

Stories
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7 Followers
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5 Stories

103 karma pts

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An Absurd (And Absurdly Literal) Interpretation of the Great Beyond

Weekly Contest #129

He gazed out from behind his coal black eyes at the mountain. It stood there, freshly blanketed with the snow that was both the beauty and the essence of life for him. Staring at this holy place he could not help but think of his cosmic insignificance. The permanence, the ancientness of the mountain in comparison to his transient existence did not fill him with dread though. Instead, he found hope in that permanence, confidence in that ancient and everlasting presence. A sensation of familiarity arose in him as the sun crested over the peak,...

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His Nightly Tea

Weekly Contest #128

The sound began, whining, hissing, cutting through the air with sharp, jagged notes – the record spinning, his head spinning, the world spinning. This was the beginning of his nightly ritual. His tea kettle began to sound in unison with the spinning world, the water ready for transmogrification. As Midge Ure began to wail over the synthesizers he realized that he neither wanted to dance nor to weep over a life gone by. He returned to the ancient phonograph, desperate to stop living out the memory of love that died. Thumbing through a stack...

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The Game

Weekly Contest #125

The invitation had come very late. Two weeks? Not even, he thought to himself. It was Wednesday and Mark was getting married on the following Saturday. That was just like Mark – impulsive and last minute – even his nuptials were not immune to his wanton and lackadaisical approach to time. Luckily for Mark, he had the charm to overcome his perpetual tardiness. Thomas, though not repellent, lacked the charisma necessary to live free of the omnipresence of time. Unluckily for Thomas, Mark had consistently made them both late for more than half ...

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Finding His Voice

Weekly Contest #124

The needle found the groove and the sounds of Mustafa Özkent began to fill the room with a satisfying hiss. Bobbing his head and dancing his way across the room he plopped himself down in front of the small typewriter. “One published story and you think you’re Hemingway?”, he asked himself, still unable to dampen his smile. The music only increased his euphoric smirking and distracted him from writing. The ambiance was right, the record and the typewriter having recently replaced the iPod and the Moleskine. He had always wanted to be a write...

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Oscar's Final Bow

Weekly Contest #123

The silent emptiness that now filled the room was deafening in comparison to the meager roars of the participatory and rowdy audience had offered only an hour or so before. Oscar, Clown No. 3 and Pirate No. 4 scanned the ornately dilapidated hall, taking in that emptiness and the ruin left by the participatory and rowdy audience mentioned above. “The patrons favored bananas this evening”, Oscar mumbled to himself. Half-dressed in the silky pantaloons of an oriental pirate and still donning the elaborate clown face of the penultimate and dram...

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