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Geir Westrul

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2022

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233 Followers
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26 Stories

1216 karma pts

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Best Served Cold

Weekly 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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The Moonstone Club Challenge (a David & Mr. Goliath Mystery)

Weekly Contest #212

London, 1898The Moonstone Club“Max,” said Sherlock Holmes, "I want to introduce you to my friend, Mr. Goliath."The four famous detectives — Sherlock Holmes, Max Carrados, Dr. John Evelyn Thorndyke, and Chevalier Auguste Dupin — were gathered by the fireplace at the Moonstone Club library.Max Carrados held out his hand.“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Goliath.”Sherlock Holmes burst into an explosion of laughter as Max recoiled at the touch of the tiny hand.Max Carrados turned his blind eyes in Holmes’s direction. “Even a baby’s hand is lar...

19 likes 15 comments 15
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Master o' the Tiger

Weekly Contest #210

“They are so cute!”“Adorable.”“Look at their little name tags.” Beth picked up the first kitten — gray with white paws, pink nose, and big green eyes. “Graymalkin, is that your name?”Graymalkin mewed.“And this one is called ‘Paddock’,” Mac read the name tag as he picked up the black cat with yellow eyes, black nose, and unusually large paws — each with six black-padded toes.“This one is ‘Harpier’,” said Duncan, holding on to the third kitten — blue eyes, fur nearly all white, except for light brown markings vaguely reminiscent of angel wings...

14 likes 18 comments 18
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Behold, A Black Horse

Weekly Contest #209

“We’re screwed.”The night is black, the road desolate, a seemingly endless stretch of unlit asphalt that disappears into the murk of impenetrable fog.“We just need to keep heading south,” Brendan says.“We’re screwed,” Chari says again. “No map, no GPS, we shouldn’t have taken this back road.”A deer runs out of the fog, into the beam of the headlights.Brendan turns the wheel to avoid the animal. Chari screams. The car skids off the road, into the ditch. A hard stop. Seatbelts bite into their flesh.* * *Standing outside the car, Chari says: “N...

14 likes 12 comments 12
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I Will Not Eat My Heart Alone

Weekly Contest #208

Rain falls on his new skin. He feels nothing.Under cover of the night, he, Isaac Newton, sixty-three years of age in this the Year of the Lord 1706, arrives alone at Woolsthorpe, returning to the old two-story farmhouse where he grew up. In one hand he carries a lit lanthorn, in the other a large bag.He calls back a memory, his earliest, one he did not even know he had, until it is there, sudden, sharp, as if he is transported back into the moment and … he can smell the manure, see the sheep-shearing dust in the air. He is three years o...

20 likes 33 comments 33
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Valentine

Weekly Contest #197

LOS ANGELES, 2079NOVEMBEROh, I could eat you up. Eat you whole. In one bite.Valentine smiles to herself, in her close-lipped way, 'pensive' they call it in the publicity sumsen. She always smiles this way. Lips closed. She has beautiful, blinding-white, even teeth, lighting up her dark blue-black features and her espresso-brown eyes, but few have ever seen this wonderful smile. Jonathan is one of them. One of the few.Standing there on the deck of the Queen Mary, the fog rolling in, Jonathan is framed against the LA night-time skyline, backli...

35 likes 17 comments 17
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The Monsters

Weekly Contest #196

1567Edinburgh“I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!”His father followed through on his promise, landing a slap on Brod’s ear so hard it made the inside of the young boy’s head ring like a great bell.Brod began keening, tears running down his soot-smudged cheeks.“Haud yer wheesht, and stop yer greetin'.” Donald Munro gave his son a squint-eyed glare under bushy eyebrows above a great, big, bulbous, broken-veined drunkard’s nose. “Dae ye want the whole hoose tae wake up and catch us in th’act o' thievin'?”Donald Munro gave his son a hard shove. Brod fell...

19 likes 20 comments 20
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Untold

Winner of Weekly Contest #195 🏆

“Where are we?” the old man said.“In a dark wood.”“Who are you?” said the old man.“Just … a brother,” said the young man.“Stop,” the old man said. “Let me look at you.”“It is dark.”“And I am blind. For me it is always dark. I can see with my hands, if you will allow me.”“Yes.”The old man felt first the young man’s wavy hair.“Please, describe the color of your hair.”“Have you seen colors?”“I have never had sight.”“Then how can I describe colors?”“I know the cold on my skin of the black, moonless night,” the blind, old man said. “I know the co...

198 likes 128 comments 128
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Like the Skin of a Snake

Weekly Contest #194

Gunshots, then a loud crash, then the doors to the casino flew open, a man ran out, gun in hand, three men in pursuit, then more gunshots, the man crumbling into a shivering heap on the wet pavement under the yellow streetlight, rain mixing with dark blood, then the heap stopped shivering, and that was that.Not my problem.My deal with the Agency is I only take cases involving good people. Well, the better ones, anyway — no-one’s all good.Inside the casino, I headed to the Night Guard’s office.“What’s the rumpus?” I said.The Night G...

27 likes 24 comments 24
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Kill the Messenger

Weekly Contest #192

"Sweetie, look, this was just delivered. It's from ...," my wife reads the card while unboxing the birthday present, peeling off red gift wrapping, "... your Aunt Salomé." "That's nice — wait, Aunt Salomé? But — " The red gift wrapping blooms into an orange fireball. The shockwave pushes me, shoves me, throws me hard into the wall. The screams from my wife's birthday-party guests are muffled, as if I'm submerged in water, deep below the surface. Aunt Salomé. Only I know that 'she' is not real. 'Aunt Salom...

37 likes 27 comments 27
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even your mistakes

Weekly Contest #191

— whoosh —The 12-foot tenkara fly-fishing bamboo-rod whipped through the air, releasing the thin line that touched down in the stream over twenty feet away.The rising sun painted the sakura cherry blossoms in the rose color of dawn, reflecting a light pink sheen in the old man’s steel-gray hair.The old man knew the water was too cold for the trout to be active and biting, but he loved the sunrise, the cool air of early spring, everything opening up to life again. The world was young.I feel alive, he thought.“Hel...

19 likes 11 comments 11
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