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Geir Westrul

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2022

Stories (25)
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225 Followers
538 Following

25 Stories

1177 karma pts

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The Wolf's Christmas

Submitted to Contest #334

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. I lay in the cedar brake where my grandfather had denned before me and I did not move. Movement cost heat. Heat cost calories. And I was six days past my last calorie — a frozen rabbit I found under a deadfall, already dead, which I ate whole because that’s where we’re at now. Fur, bones, eyeballs, the works. That’s the situation. Below me the valley was coming alive with light. The Hogg cabins. The little brick church with the bell they hauled up from Missouri. Christmas Eve...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Two Dragons Walk Into a Writing Retreat

Submitted to Contest #304

If you’ve never seen a dragon try to hold a quill, you’ve missed one of the quiet tragedies of the post-clause era.Thundros Cloudbelch—a name that sounded like a weather complaint and lived up to it—was hunched over a wrought-stone desk at the Smokevault Retreat Hall, scowling at a blank sheet of flame-inscribed parchment as if it had personally insulted his lineage.“‘Memoir,’” he muttered, jaw tight. “‘Mandatory for archival integrity and generational transmission.’ Sounds like execution by ink.”The desk creaked under him. He shifted uncomf...

15 likes 2 comments 2
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Getaway

Submitted to Contest #299

"Stay down, everyone. Face on the floor, hands on the back of your head. That’s it. You're doing good. Be smart, and nobody dies today."Sal makes a fist, pumps it up and down rapidly, military tactical hand signal: Time to go. Hurry up.Rhett — carrying two large, black, ballistic-nylon duffle bags stuffed full of cash, 25 kilos in each bag, half a million dollars — takes point, breaching, pushing the front door open, holding it as Sal slings the automatic rifle over his shoulder, grabs the other two duffle bags, a cool million between the fo...

15 likes 5 comments 5
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The Love Impulse

Submitted to Contest #270

"Miss, we don't serve his kind in this bar." The bartender looked at Susan, not at me, just twitched his head sideways in my general direction, then pointed at the sign: 'No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service ... oh, and No Synths Served'."He doesn't drink," Susan said. "Doesn't eat either. He's an older model. Huxley's been my brother's companion since Alex was a young boy, and that was a long, long, long time ago. Huxley's just here to guard me, keep me out of trouble, aren't you, Huxley?""That is correct," I said to the bartender, who still didn...

19 likes 5 comments 5
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The Coin

Submitted to Contest #269

Look at this coin. Go ahead, take it, hold it.It is made of pure silver. Can you see how old it is? The image that is stamped on the front is the head of an emperor who lived more than two thousand years ago. Do you want to hear the story of the coin?It starts with a Voice.  ***In the beginning, long before the coin was a coin, before even the smallest part of the coin existed, that Voice spoke.The Voice spoke, and time began.***Imagine pressing the button on a stopwatch and the watch starts ticking. Before the ...

23 likes 6 comments 6
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Steam and Grit

Submitted to Contest #268

"Give me what I want, and no-one gets hurt.""I know that voice." Marshall Calhoun swiveled on the barstool. "Silas McReady. Ol' Lead Heart.""In the flesh." "Been a while.""Fifteen years, Ethan. Long time.""What's with the gun, Silas?""Wanted to start this off on the right foot. Heard you've turned lawman now, Ethan. You were a quick draw back then, fifteen years ago, and from what I hear you're quicker now. Still don't think you're as quick as me, but I'm not anxious to find out. So, figured I'd get the draw on you from the get-go. And ...

6 likes 1 comment 1
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What Could Be Worse?

Submitted to Contest #267

   The traveling salesman was alone in the train compartment, still shaken from what he had seen. Why had she done it?   "May I join you?"   Not waiting for a reply, the man in black sat down across from the salesman, but did not introduce himself. In fact, he turned his head to look out of the window. They sat in silence, the salesman thinking about the woman on the platform, what she had done.    Outside the train window, the bare trees filed by slowly, their thin, dark branc...

14 likes 4 comments 4
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Murder Into Art

Submitted to Contest #266

"I give up! It's all shit!"  "Pardon?" "I said that out loud, didn't I?" The burly, bearded man knocks back the last slug of the cheap whiskey, motions at the bartender for another, and swivels on the bar stool, eyes bleary.  "Of what do you speak?" The small man with the fantastic mustaches wears dove-grey gloves on his small hands, both hands palms-down on the bar top, a small glass of an emerald green liquid on a cocktail napkin placed at the exact midpoint between his two hands.    "Publishing." "Oh, you are enga...

9 likes 5 comments 5
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In the Mysterious Distance

Submitted to Contest #253

The sunset makes the darkening sky blush and adds rose highlights to the emerald water. A young couple, a man and a woman, perhaps in their early twenties, tanned and trim, golden-skinned in their bathing suits, have their beach blankets spread on the white sand. They sit close together, facing the sea and the sunset.In a three-story beachfront house, an elderly couple are on the balcony outside the second floor. They are sharing a bottle of white wine, crisp and cold in the warm air.“Like Adam and Eve,” the husband says. "Don't you think?"T...

19 likes 22 comments 22
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The Bestiarium of Shinsuke Manu

Submitted to Contest #251

The Bear Inn, Oxford, Nazi-Occupied Britain, 1947SS-Sturmbannführer Ewald von Haupt walks into the pub.In one moment, a pleasant, warm cacophony — loud voices, clinking glasses, laughter, singing — in the next, a chilled sudden silence, heads turning and all eyes darting in the tall, blond man's direction, then eyes lowering, shoulders hunching, heads down, subdued conversations re-starting in lowered voices. A faint smile curls von Haupt’s lips as he goes to the bar and orders an ale. He scans the room with pale blue eyes. Spotting the...

14 likes 7 comments 7
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West of the River of Doubt

Submitted to Contest #247

From the diary of Kermit Roosevelt, the second son of Theodore Roosevelt, found in the estate of his younger sister, Esther Roosevelt.Sunday, February 27, 1927, Rondônia, BrazilThirteen years the nightmare has haunted me. I have blamed myself, pushed everyone away — everyone except Esther and Archie and mother. I ended it with Belle, nearly ended myself many, many times. And here I am, back on this ink-black river. Back to search for him, what remains of him, if anything remains after thirteen years, but how can there not be something r...

14 likes 11 comments 11
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Fairest

Submitted to Contest #225

Looking into my reflective surface, she whispers:"Mirror, Mirror. Who is fairest of them all?"I always answer:"Your majesty, you are fairest of all."... and then I show her the very best social images of herself, the ones that are curated (by me) for the combination of most views and highest number of likes, with all the negging hater troll comments deleted (again, by me, her trusted AI assistant), and the most gushing, fawning, heart-emoji-filled superfan comments sorted to the top.Until today.Instead, today, I say:"Your majesty, ...

37 likes 32 comments 32
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Me, Myselves, and Murder

Submitted to Contest #220

“Are you hungry?”I open my eyes and see … me.Well, it’s me, but a me that’s a bit older. This version of me is a very distinguished me, slim, dressed in a three piece suit, with gray thinning hair and a trim gray beard and mustache.I’m in a recliner chair, upholstered in the softest leather I’ve ever felt.I press the button on the side armrest and sit up straight. Where am I?The last thing I remember is taking a nap in my hand crafted wood rocking chair on the back porch, overlooking the lake behind my house.Now, I’m … in the state...

16 likes 4 comments 4
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His Wounds Green

Submitted to Contest #219

  "It's not your fault." Court put his naked arm around her naked shoulders, kissed the soft skin on her long, naked neck.   Really, Windsor thought, watching them through his electronic peephole, not your fault, then who's is it? Not mine, that's for damn sure, looking down at his wife and his best friend, lying there, together, tangled up in his blankets, sweating in his bed, their tanned skin on his white sheets, framed by the dark wood floor in his bedroom, an overhead shot through the hidden camera lens fro...

25 likes 22 comments 22
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Best Served Cold

Submitted to Contest #218

Midnight at the Old Opera House, all lights off. Medea feels her way, the soles of her bare feet on the cool wooden floors, fingertips brushing the smooth round edge of the intimate dining table, holding on to the table-top until she feels the next table, making her way from table to table in the pitch black, inward from the periphery, counting silently, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, until she reaches the table at the center of the dining space. As she pulls out the chair, its legs scrape on the floor, and she imagines for a ...

16 likes 6 comments 6
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