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Don's Literary Corner

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2020

Stories (4)

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49 Followers

40 Following

4 Stories

179 karma pts

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Brushstrokes and Keys

Don's Literary Corner

Submitted to Contest #334

25 April 1998 Dear Sam, I’ve spent two hours trying to come up with a better, cleverer opening than “Dear Sam,” and—well, you can see how that turned out. Still, I was so glad when you gave me your email and said we should keep in touch. The whole cake incident had me on the ropes for a while, wondering if you still considered me a friend. If you’ll let me, I’d like to clear my name—or at least soften the charges. Just before the song, I overheard Drew and Chase talking about how they’d spiked the punch with tequila. In the middle of a he...

6 likes

Beyond Living For Her

Don's Literary Corner

Opening the office door, I immediately shrugged off my rain-drenched coat and sank into the swallow of an old Chesterfield, its fabric frayed and faded, facing an L-shaped desk that lay buried beneath a chaotic scatter of papers. I began to fade into a thoughtless wonder, a thread of sand guiding me, when I heard the door creak. I sprang up, but the Chesterfield was too deep to escape with a single effort, and I found myself sinking back into its weathered leather. “Who is it?” I grumbled, my voice emerging like yarn unspooling. I cleared my...

0 likes

Easily Broken

Don's Literary Corner

Submitted to Contest #68

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The taxi pulled into the cobblestone driveway a few minutes after twelve. The sky was veiled by flickering clouds, and the iridescent colors illuminated the streets the thunder had silenced. The shower earlier that day had carpeted mirrors all over town, and with the blinding neon lights shining from the ground as well; the town was aesthetically dystopian. Donna hastily jerked her body towards the door, only to b...

17 likes

Betrayal Dilemma

Don's Literary Corner

Submitted to Contest #67

Thick warm air gathered in my spongy respirators. Sweat dripping in pounds. I could hear a voice, but as I looked around, only the silhouettes of my emotions stood staring. The concrete slabs that arched towards the mahogany courtroom door narrowed my mind with fear. I wondered if the executioners felt scared. My hands shuddered as they took hold of the deathly cold handle, for a moment forgetting its use, and as I reluctantly shook the door open, my hands became heavy. They held his life.The Dilemma:“Mr. Gillian, thank you for joining ...

25 likes