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David Poslad

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2026

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12 Followers
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19 Stories

259 karma pts

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Child of Thunder

It was a casual Monday morning. The auditorium was obviously pretty empty, people sitting splayed over the seats, so far away from each other as if a new dangerous disease was having its prime time of spreading. And right in there was Vuela. And also this was casual because Vuela was here every Monday morning. Because what else was she to do? She could sleep longer, of course. But therefore, she needed a reason to stay awake on Sundays. Or the strength to stay awake on Sunday, which she didn't have, since she stood up at seven on Sundays. Th...

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It‘s a Love Story

I’ve only known love from movies. From scenes of deep eye contact. From seductive smiles and Hollywood moments. People standing on rooftops, dark blue sky and falling stars surrounding the scene. Kisses that mean more than a lifetime. Going to the moon and back. Outrageous flirting, always cute and sweet, then merciless. And all that for people of almost all ages, beginning at sometimes even fifteen. My parents met in Highschool, started dating after a few months and became each other’s. They know each other for forty years by now, made the ...

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Human(e)

The flames hiss as Alice Crester lights the candles with her match. They sway in the bit of air passing through the slit in the barn’s window. It's getting terribly cold, I have to admit. The candles do not really help. But the excitement about this evening keeps me warm. I like watching Mrs. Crester as she sets the plates of food down. Silver plates, covered by shining domes to hide the food for our eyes. Although, I already know what it will be for dinner. She appears apprehensive now. People can't shut up in her vicinity. I mean, sure. Th...

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Heather

It doesn't take years of marriage to startle when your partner suddenly talks in their sleep. Still, it hurt even more when Bergljot turned over at three, her eyes shut like a locked door, whispering in my ear. "I killed heather." That she immediately turned over again, facing the scrubby wall, took no turn in my fear. I was awake even before that. My head empty like a cleared chalkboard. Chalk in my hand, I was desperate to find new ideas for projects, but the void in my cerebral centre just hurt. I killed heather. She was lying there so...

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Heathland

Weekly Contest #370

Sletvik, Norway May 28, 2008 The wind is howling its soul over the heathland. Between the evergreen vegetation, the heather’s small purple heads give the field its beloved pattern. This is home. Mine alone. I’m writing these words, so the landscape does not become forgotten. Even though the shore is packed with tourists’ homes, the landscape is yet not overrun by them. Preserved by the nature’s breath, my little heaven is being kept under the clouds, white and fluffy, like sheep’s wool. And just like a thick fur, I have to take care of my l...

10 likes 3 comments 3
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8 of Snakes

“How can you tell if somebody loves you?” “Is this a question you ask me or the cards?” The girl’s hand hovered over the deck of cards, fanned out in a picture-perfect semi-circle. Small white skulls were looking at him, their eyeholes dark like a black hole. “I’m asking you. At least I think. You told me there is a way to predict my future, so you seem to know a lot.” Deniz expected her to laugh, but instead she slapped her manicured hand down on the cards. “I can’t predict. This is important to know. I’m no weather forecast of a kind. And...

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What comes from Chaos

Weekly Contest #367

Transcript of surveillance of citizen Peter Markley, number #054437 under examination by LM4.6 Language Model Please enter your name. Enter my name where? Please enter your name. Where can I do this? All there is, that’s a weird purple light. No keyboard or anything. Please enter your name. What should I do? Just say Peter Markley? Hello, Peter Markley. Welcome at the National Community of Justice and Security. Please enter your issue. I want to talk to my son. Please enter your issue. Do you want to get information about our newest...

13 likes 5 comments 5
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Margherita

Weekly Contest #365

I Lucas Baker is the most boring guy you'll ever meet. So boring, you probably don’t even want to meet him at all. Listen to the name alone. Feel it on your tongue. Round and sticky like a chewed gum. And just as plain in flavour. You'll meet a hundred Lucas and you'll meet a hundred Bakers as well. How common does this guy want to be? Do you see how boring he is? Lucas Baker lives in one of the white shoe-box houses on Oak Street. A brown door, about six apartments. Lucas Baker lives on the first floor, of course. The most interesting th...

8 likes 6 comments 6
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The Blank Page

Weekly Contest #363

Every single time Ruby sat down on her small wooden desk, her laptop would show the usual blank page. Opened in front of her, with the cursor blinking on the sheet, indicating the need to finally add the words that would make her story flood the pages. Every morning she would sit down and try to concentrate, to channel her thoughts into writable constructions. But her ideas seemed to be extracted from her. Just like when she decided to throw away all of her belongings. Her mother used to collect all kinds of things. She would pile them up on...

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Treadmill

Weekly Contest #362

Tread and Mill. There was enough time to think about the logic behind words when running for your life. Tread came from the treading. From the sheer endless steps he was pumping into the machine. It came from the sound his sneakers made on the hard rubber. Mill came from the farming. Just like a mill for grain, investing energy to work the harvest. The mill would just go on, move in circles with steady production. Dave felt like he was harvesting himself. His calves burned from the steps he took, almost flying at the high velocity he put on ...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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Endless Summer

Weekly Contest #361

Summer 2072 "A global heat wave still rolls over the East of Europe. Experts advise you to drink enough, use skin protection and avoid direct exposition to the sun." The reporter's voice is flat, stripped bare of all emotions. It's not her first time delivering the exact same message. Not the first year. The first summer. It won't even be summer and she will still repeat it over and over, like a broken robot. "Do you want another towel?" He asks his daughter, already rinsing it with semi-cold water from the sink. Martha takes it, questioning...

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The Spark

Weekly Contest #360

Malik remembered the day they met like a tattoo on his heart, with a heat that lingers long after. The bar was loud that Friday and Malik, on his fifth yawn, messed up the foam on a beer. Meanwhile, Felicitas was wiping her glass with theatrical precision, still playing their guessing game. „The word is the colour of my hair.“ He snorted „Brown?“ „Specific, Malik. Try again. You know these little stones where insects are trapped in?“ He opened his mouth to answer, as one of the birthday guests met the bar. His mind still rattling with colour...

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Diced Out

Weekly Contest #358

CW: violence, blood, death, mentions of sexual abuse Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake. Or maybe it was their second, since putting me through this had to be their first. At least, these were my thoughts before I entered the scene. Now, the moment the school bell rings, I run for my life. The room is dim with windows covered in soot and dirt, unable to let light through. Chairs and tables mix up on the floor, broken. All from the explosion, I guess. On the whiteboard, some old formulas are still written. A cylinder, drawn ...

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Half his Heart

Weekly Contest #357

Friday, 6:38 p.m. TV’s on. Ravioli fresh out of the can. Hand in shorts. Lying on the sofa. Room warm. Rest of daylight through almost closed curtains. Waiting for the scene. There he comes. Black tuxedo. Hair perfect. Looking like a model. Audience clapping. Stomping. Loud. It’s him. Aleksander Marquardt. A star. Turning up the volume. Taking in every piece. Three steps. Turn around. Wave. Reporter blushing. Sander smiling. Like right out of a toothpaste commercial. Fake. But delicate. Not like with me. Met him few weeks ago. A Friday as we...

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Monster under the Bed

Weekly Contest #356

“I can’t sleep” Standing in the doorway with her pink teddy bear, Jonathan’s sister rubs her eyes. Sitting on the plain burgundy sofa, Jonathan’s mom pauses mid-sip, putting her glass of sauvignon down with a clink. “It’s okay, darling. Just put on an audiobook.” Their dad not even listening, instead highly invested in his online shopping, Jonathan fiddling with the ropes of his jumper, Abigail’s gaze drifts past all of them and lands on Rafaela, searching, almost pleading. Rafaela freezes. She’s not used to that look, especially by a child....

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