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Eric E

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (34)

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Library

11 Followers

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34 Stories

604 karma pts

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Sororal Reflections

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #283

In the darkness of her room, within the perfect stillness of Christmas Eve, Sarah Dawson’s darkest thoughts were dragged up from the recesses of her mind before she drifted off to sleep. She thought about her mother and the almost-born baby inside of her and Sarah’s thoughts formed words, and those words were: I wish that her baby were never born.  * Now, before any snap judgements are made about Ms Dawson, some context is in order. Sarah Dawson, 12, had actually adapted quite well to a difficult life. Her mother, Leila, and stepdad, Pa...

3 likes

Far Away Places

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #275

It had been over four years since victory was declared in Europe. Since then, London, that behemoth, slowly breathed its way back to life. With every pile of rubble cleared, every man returned home, every shop opened up and every celebration, the lustre and vigour it was known for had returned.  That wasn’t to say it was without scars - the bullet holes and missing buildings stood out like missing teeth, but with time, it was rebuilt.  These were the thoughts of Ella Franklin as she looked out from her Westminster flat across the c...

10 likes

A Boy Named Merle

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #274

Fate isn’t talked about much around these parts. Maybe it’s something that is more felt than expressed - you spend long enough seeing all these rich people and their mega-cottages and their boats come and go, you start to feel like your path was decided for you. To me, it’s more luck than anything else. Some people are just born on third base. But even saying that, I wonder… I wonder about something bigger, about a grand design with a plan in mind and the means to accomplish it because fate is resourceful. See, this story is about a boy and ...

6 likes

Tea for Two

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #272

A closing car door and the soft crunch of gravel under a wistful blue sky as Allan King, carrying his briefcase, walks slowly, and with intention. He thinks of his boss, Mr. Langston, and how he had spoken that morning with almost maddening ambiguity: that he seemed ready for his own crack at a policy renewal, if he wanted it. This one’s a walk in the park. And what the hell was he supposed to say to that? Absolutely, sir, seemed like the only choice, and so he said it. And then he found out it was a funeral home. But it wasn’t lik...

15 likes

Blink and You’ll Miss It

Eric E

Shortlisted for Contest #259 ⭐️

Keith Mitchell awakes to the sound of a ringing bell. As it has been since the accident, there is a second of confusion at waking up somewhere that is not his mother’s house. It doesn’t take long for him to remember where he is - the Haxton Regional Rehabilitation Centre. He repeats the words to himself and that helps to clear the fog of sleep. Then, he turns to sit at the side of the bed, winces at the pain in his head and lifts the leg that is still in a cast to join his other uninjured leg. He’s become used to the dull, itchy feeling belo...

15 likes

And he shall be Levon

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #237

Levon Morgan wouldn’t necessarily qualify as a misanthrope - to use the parlance of beer, he would be a misanthrope light. Human interaction was not something that he enjoyed and he tried to avoid it as much as possible, but he wasn’t a live-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods-and-write-a-manifesto kind of guy, though. Just someone who didn’t feel it was necessary to interact with people frequently. It was all the more surprising, then, when he pulled into the parking lot of Ye Olde Squire - a bar that was equally known for its breakfast service and sca...

7 likes

The Sky Inside

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #232

Ella’s hand held the water pump’s handle; its metal was cool against her calloused palms. She started to work the metal up and down with a practised efficiency until water slowly dribbled into the bucket. It was the last one of the night - just enough to wash and make her mother some tea that she wouldn’t drink. As she continued pumping, her eyes looked upwards to the fading sky. There, in the back of her mind, was the thought that what existed in her dreams might become a reality. That recurring dream with a world of darkness and echoing he...

6 likes

Bella Ciao

Eric E

Shortlisted for Contest #221 ⭐️

Until I met the man with the accordion, I wasn’t the kind of person who believed in ghosts. * Who am I, you might be wondering?  Well, the name isn’t important. But some details are. Yes, it is a ‘cardinal sin’ of storytelling to dump information in the exposition, but some sins are needed to live life effectively. I’m a 29 year-old English teacher who lives in London. Where I’m from is not important - what’s really salient here is that I’m not a nut-job. I don’t buy into conspiracies, I don’t do drugs and I enjoy the odd drink, bu...

16 likes

Glory and Sacrifice

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #208

The clouds hung low in the sky like pillowy mountains that were mysteries to those who gazed up at them. Above them the sun burned evenly, spreading an indolent haze. Below them, it was the first day of Wimbledon and the green was strikingly verdant against the array of colours the spectators wore. Nikola Marusic was preparing to serve, and he approached the ball boy behind him who brought out three balls. The ball boy’s name was Max Hunter and he tried his best to stop his hands from shaking as his idol approached him. Marusic towered above...

2 likes

The Exchange

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #204

For C.M.His fingers loosened around the pistol as he slipped it into the holster on his hip and his eyes scanned the tableau of destruction around him. To his left, an empty space where the one called Jenkins had been before, his cards on the table still face down; beside him, an empty space where the one called Fitz had been blown backwards, the toes of his boots grazing the edge of the table; beside him, his brother, whose head was down with his arms in L-shapes on either side of his ears. The cards and bottles and chips around the table h...

10 likes

A Song for Bill

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #192

In goes another spoonful of coffee and Corey Milworth closes the compartment and presses the button. He walks through the kitchen and sees the dishes in the sink and grabs them, running the water and washing them under cold. He puts them in the drying rack and the thunk is a little louder than usual and it might be because he means it.  Walking past the couch that has held his brother in sleep for the last three months, he wonders if by some magnificent wonder of will he has decided to go off in the night to find something that used to ...

7 likes

One More Sunrise

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #99

Yoshiro Yamawaki opened his eyes and stared into the darkness that was enveloping him. He thought he heard the siren again, but after a few seconds, he realized that it was a remnant of a memory from earlier in his sleep. He recalled a dimly lit and fleeting moment that occurred earlier that night, a siren calling out in the night, his wife, Emiko, sitting up, turning on the lights, looking around as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes, panic gripping her, stirring him, Emiko’s reluctant rise to the radio until the all-clear was sounded near...

6 likes

Imagine (the window)

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #97

There once was a boy who didn’t have an imagination.  The boy’s name was Alex.  * Now, for you to truly believe this story, you’ll need to use your imagination. Isn’t that a paradox? To believe something about a kid with a missing imagination by using your own? Anyways, back to Alex. When Alex was 2 years old, his parents- who were loving and devoted- started to notice things. They would read to him, and he would just stare straight at them, eyes unflinching, vacant. Even when they would get to the exciting part of the sto...

5 likes

A Sound of Thunder and the Smell of Sulphur

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #89

*Please note: There are graphic depictions of violence and suicide in this story. It is inspired by, but radically deviates from a play called Free by David Grant and Lord of the Flies by the inimitable William Goulding. Thanks for reading.*  Nothing can ever prepare you for your first time firing a gun. I’ve seen enough action movies to think that I’d be ready, but I wasn’t. Before it had even fully clicked that I’d sent a real bullet through Liam’s chest, there was a sound of thunder and the smell of sulphur. The sound gave new mea...

6 likes

The Lake

Eric E

Submitted to Contest #84

* Trigger warning: Graphic depictions of suicide*The night it happened, I knew something was wrong the second I opened my eyes. It wasn’t just that you weren’t in the bed beside me; that would have been normal enough. We’d both been fighting the battle against insomnia, and hadn’t won yet. It was a feeling. It was in my gut, buzzing electricity that said something isn’t right. Our cottage was silent. Too silent. I moved to the living room and began to look for you. The door to the back patio, and eventually, to the lake, had been left open. ...

5 likes