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Elizabeth Rich

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2024

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121 Followers
26 Following

74 Stories

1892 karma pts

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The Midas Touch: The Gameshow

Weekly Contest #313

"Where is the Love! The answer is, Where is the Love!" I shouted."Very good, Emi, but what's the name of the singing group or artist?" the host wanted to know. He was a fill-in host, and I didn't catch his name. Being called to the stage enthralled me to the point of almost wetting my britches. Oh, lordy. I could not wait to call my sister. She would be green as a grinch with envy."I know this," I yelled. "You're going to be so surprised when I nail this answer. By the way, can you tell me your name again? I was so excited to get on the show...

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The Readers' Club

Weekly Contest #312

The InvitationIt was buttery smooth to the touch. Thick. Substantial. The sender spared no expense. The envelope was not addressed to me, Tommy Branson. It must have been meant for the apartment's former tenant, Andy Semple. But there was something about the envelope that begged me to open it, to see what was inside.The content of the envelope was a single piece of card stock, but calling it card stock shortchanges it. The card stock had the same buttery smooth feel as the envelope. The edges came to sharp corners, and the words printed on t...

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The Pool

Weekly Contest #311

This morning was a day like any other. My husband rolled over, brushing his stubbly chin against my forehead, then righting his position to give me a kiss on the lips while I slept. It was no longer a sound sleep, though. I smelled the coffee brewing downstairs, and the dogs had awakened and wanted us to know they were ready for all of us to begin our days. They liked to pretend I was their personal hopscotch grid to ensure I was aware of their immediate needs. Still, however, I stayed in bed while the house awoke around me. Our son had deci...

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We're Greek. It's What We Do.

Weekly Contest #309

The people. Always the people. I loved and loathed them in equal measure. I was compelled to fill them with food, with drink, with stories, with song.And the food. From an early age, it was impressed upon me how important the food was. The work of forming the food with spoons, Yiayia's special wooden spoon, used for folding, mixing, stirring, swatting my cousin's back side when he was unruly. Surely it wasn't the same spoon used on my mom and uncle. We formed the food with our hands, kneading dough; our fingers, forming the koulourakia into ...

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Johnny Cakes' Evolution

Weekly Contest #309

1 – TroubleMy aunt said they used to call him Johnny Cakes when he was little. She said there was something strangely wrong with 'Cakes' being part of any nickname for my dad as he grew up. They dropped the 'Cakes' when he turned into a terror who had to be sent away every summer. He had become a wild boy with very few boundaries. He terrorized my aunt, chasing her around the dining room table with Grandma's sewing shears. He had been bigger and faster and caught my aunt, giving her a haircut that robbed her of the golden curls of her early ...

6 likes 2 comments 2
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Party for the Vernal Equinox

Weekly Contest #308

"We must have hats," Julia said."Hats?" I asked."Yes," she said, her eyes shining. "This is a very big party we're throwing, and if we have hats, everyone will know we're the hostesses." Julia, my roommate, was a tall, willowy redhead. She was the the Irish rose found blooming in Midwestern America. As beautiful as she was, she wasn't the most forward-thinking young woman."This is maybe a dumb question," I began, "but since we're doing the inviting, and since we know everyone we're inviting, won't they know we're the hostesses?""Oh, right, r...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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The Plant Killer

Weekly Contest #307

[Author's Note: This story features a murder of a human and at least one plant and serial cheating by a huge dickhead.] This week had served as a turd in the punch bowl that was my life. Two weeks ago, my boss had gone on vacation. She left me in charge of the plants in the office. God knows why. I'm a ruthless plant killer. Everyone knows I cannot be trusted with any organism that performs photosynthesis; however, this idiot of a woman left me to tend a virtual garden in her office. For the record, horticulturist was not in my job descripti...

3 likes 6 comments 6
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Wrong Number

Weekly Contest #306

Unknown: Hey.Gabi: Hey back. Who is this?Unknown: I'm Angi.Gabi: Angi who?Picture accompanies the following message. The picture is of a 20-something young woman with long, shiny hair. She is wearing a tight tank top, and there's a filter on the photo that softens the slightly hard look in Angi's eyes.Unknown: Who is this?Gabi: Gabriella.Angi: Oh. I thought I was texting Charlie.Gabi: Guess not. You have me. Sorry. Who's Charlie?Angi: Charlie? He's no one. Well, he's someone. He used to be someone special, but now…now he's someone I avoid. I...

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The Venue, the Crowd, the Comedienne, and the Show

Weekly Contest #305

I tapped the microphone. The tap was followed by the ear-splitting buzz of feedback. One glance at the audience told me the reverb of the feedback did not take them back to the days of their first concerts. Mine was Hall & Oates, the Big Bam Boom tour. The concert tees were insanely righteous, and it pained me to no end when I discovered that my niece had found it, cut it off and made it into some kind of babydoll belly shirt. She wrapped a rubber band around the excess material in the back to make it fit her so tightly, I was afraid her...

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THOSE People

Weekly Contest #304

Those idiots. They had no idea how silly they looked. As if anyone in their right minds would wander into this swingers' bar known for being the only karaoke joint in town and say, "Hey, that woman on stage…yeah, the one who keeps putting her tongue down those three guys' throats…she's got some real talent. Call Jerry. We need to get her a recording contract." No. That would never happen. This woman had a better chance of joining the next moon landing team, which is to say the odds were indeed quite small, as small as her singing talent, tha...

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The Sweetheart

Weekly Contest #303

It was a winding, meandering path. A slippery slope. Go or no go. It was the on switch. It was a runaway train. But it was also a faucet I could have turned off at any time, and I didn't. I didn't want to. I dithered in cliche after cliche, but when it was all said and done, I was not taking the high road.We had been sweethearts. I gave him mine, and he gave me his. He also gave his heart to Donna, and apparently, he also gave her his penis because now she was giving him a baby. His mother was one of the lunch ladies when we were in high sch...

5 likes 11 comments 11
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News from The Standard Hotel

Weekly Contest #302

Rich Clark had finally scored an invitation to the big meeting with the heavy hitters. He had been working hard to earn a seat at the table for the past year, and finally his work had paid off. If all went well, he would receive a big pay bump, which he and his wife sorely needed. They were expecting their first child, a boy, whose name would be Wyatt or Will. They liked both and decided they'd wait until he was born to see which name suited him best. Rich's wife's due date was in two weeks, but the doctor had said she could go any time. She...

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The Alfred Hitchcock Party

Weekly Contest #301

"Knock, knock," Aubrey sang."Who's there?" I sang back."It's just me, your shadow, your best friend, the Mutt to your Jeff.""The Laurel to my Hardy? The Jan to my Marsha? The Wilma to my Betty?" "Ugh. Yes. You know who it is. Open the door."She entered my apartment, the door closing with a thud behind her. "You ready for tonight's adventure?" she asked. Her eyes were bright, lively, full of mischief."I am." We were both dressed in black. Her hair was back in a ponytail. Mine was in a bun. I didn't want to take any chances of leaving any evid...

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The Lost Mind

Weekly Contest #301

1 My oldest daughter was in first or second grade when it happened. My dad died. He was 76, born in 1897, married later in life. He was nine years older than my mom. He was the company doctor at a factory, and when another doctor in the city retired, he sold his practice to my dad. My mom had been a grade school teacher. There were four of us kids, and, eventually, there would be thirteen grandchildren.We grew up in a factory town, where the biggest employers were the hospitals and the factory. I was an out of control child and a terrible te...

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Sharing Sharon's Eulogy by Zowie-Wowie

Weekly Contest #300

My mom was a bad speller. Notoriously bad. She named me Zowie. It's supposed to rhyme with Bowie, as in David Bowie, but most people got it wrong. I feared the first day of school growing up. Invariably, a teacher would call my name rhyming it with Howie, as in Howie Mandel. I never bothered to correct the teacher. I always wanted to see how long she would go on pronouncing my name wrong. In third grade, my teacher went all the way to the middle of the term before the art teacher corrected her. Deciding I didn't want to be Zowie/Howie, I wen...

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