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David Ader

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020

Stories (54)
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40 Followers
24 Following

54 Stories

1292 karma pts

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Wilce's Dream

Submitted to Contest #143

At the persistence of his father, Cliff Skinner, his mother attempted a breathing technique to slow her labor enough to push her soon-to-be-born baby out at midnight. Clifford had heard that the first child of the new year would get all sorts of prizes. Wilce was born on December 31st at 11:56 PM.            Cliff also fantasized that the local Chevrolet dealer, the largest in this part of Vermont, would give the family a new pickup, something he wanted more than a newborn when he couldn...

7 likes 2 comments 2
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A Virtual Life

Submitted to Contest #140

We all have regrets. Coulda, woulda, shoulda…fill in the blank. It drives some people into insanity. Or into therapy. Or worse.            Coulda, woulda, shoulda.            Shoulda is the worst of the trio. I should have done this, but I did that and look where it got me. Where is not the preferred place or you wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. The ideal was a life well-lived, no regrets, and a long look in the m...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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The Trout Went One Way

Submitted to Contest #138

The trout went one way. Foster went another.            He leapt out of the water, arching over its surface, then dove into the depths of the cold pool. For a trout, such a move is a graceful display of instinctive acrobatics whether to catch a fly that’s risen off the surface or to argue with the bite of a hook in its mouth.            For Foster, the move was his attempt to get out of the water he’d fallen into when the fish, a lar...

7 likes 0 comments 0
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Staying Home

Submitted to Contest #137

        “We’re done here, Mr. Goodrich!”         It was the guy in charge of the movers, Joey V, standing in the driveway. Goodrich knew this was coming: a yell or a voice from downstairs, saying it was all over. He took slow steps over to the bedroom window and struggled to lift it. The weather had been damp and these old wooden windows stuck. He banged the upper rail with the palm of his hand and it stubbornly moved. He banged some more, allowing for an opening...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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Oskar

Shortlisted for Contest #135 ⭐️

OskarThe smiles of the small crowd on the street disappeared faster than the people who hurried away from the boys in the brown outfits. Yelling profanities despite the presence of children who’d been enjoying the man’s show, they kicked his table over before they set to kicking the man to the ground and then kicking him more. The tools of his trade, the rings, the cups, the case, weren’t so badly hurt as the man seeming to claw his way through the sidewalk to safety. He crawled to the gutter – thank goodness the rained had flushed the rubbi...

21 likes 5 comments 5
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We Have to Move

Submitted to Contest #120

           Phillip turned the car into the gravel driveway comforted by the grassy hump down its middle, the part that car tires hadn’t trampled down. The hump had grown since he was a child. He’d always thought it looked like something you’d find at an English country home. Maybe in the Cotswolds, though he hadn’t ever been there.            The old man sat on the porch staring out at him, a curious look that might have been mistake...

16 likes 0 comments 0
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The Hobby Shop

Submitted to Contest #120

“I won’t be too long,” said his wife. “I’ll meet you back in…say…45 minutes. Tops. Don’t be late again. Not in this weather.” “Sure, sure,” he replied, edging back towards the car with three bundles of groceries in his arms.  “What did I say?” she asked. He leaned over to put the bags on the hood, hugging them to keep them from toppling over. Had she just said something? He was sure he’d heard her voice behind him. With arms still manhandling the groceries, he twisted around, feeling the twinge of a pulled muscle, to look over h...

10 likes 0 comments 0
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Ed's Ego

Submitted to Contest #109

Ed Jesperson combed back his steel grey hair, turning this way and that in the mirror, patting down rogue strays that refused to behave, and smiled. In the closet, he looked over his vast collection of ties, rubbing their silk fabric to recall the distant days. He could tell by their width where he had worked and when he had last worn them, like counting the rings on a tree.            There were the yellow ones—“power ties” in their day—he’d wear with garish suspenders of Rubenesque wom...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Rough Sailing

Submitted to Contest #108

           Nan looked toward the west again, where the clouds seemed to be growing an even darker shade of grey. The waves had picked up too, hitting the side of the small sailboat and splashing over the coaming as it slid down into the waves.            “Don’t you think?” she asked.            “No, I don’t think, and I wish to hell you’d let me handle this. Unless you want to be...

15 likes 0 comments 0
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