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H.e. Ross

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2023

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33 Followers

7 Following

78 Stories

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Chantal

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #361

This was my first evening going to the Oloffson since I had landed in Port au Prince, and the emphasis was hot. The rattling taxi did nothing to relieve the heat with three of the windows down and one not working. The rectangle of the rear view mirror showed my driver was shining drips of brown framing bright white eyes with long lashes springing drops that he was constantly wiping with a crumbled wet almost white handkerchief. We curved up a driveway and I was finally able to peel myself off the springs that sprung under a thin coating ...

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Dobby The Sailor Mon

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #360

Dobby stood in front of me, a bushy-headed, freaky sort of person. A powerful tall frame with a coffee au lait complexion and hazel eyes. He smoked a thick spliff of Jamaican ganja and smiled a lot. I was interviewing him, with a couple of rums, on his first time out on a schooner. ‘I was about fourteen, I think, and you worked in those days from a mere tite… I was fourteen and tough; could run faster than anyone on the Island, West Shore, at least and we was the fastest on the Island. ‘Well, anyway, we set off just before the break of day ...

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Monkey Tale

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #356

Heppy lived in a small apartment right in the centre of the ‘Mo, short of Fillmore District in San Francisco. The neighbourhood used to be rough with fights, very loud music and the occasional shots. I loved it as a kid growing up sort of like in the wild west. When he passed there were a lot of people at the funeral. Heppy was well liked by most of the people acquainted with him in the ‘Mo. Even after we moved to the Haight Ashbury he used to go back to the ‘Mo to come home smelling of Kansas City brick roasted barbecue ribs. He would take...

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Revolution

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #354

Pops could be heard before I could define my city’s shape…cracks and pops, quiet, then more of either. At first I assumed the noises a celebration of some type but easily they grew into being guns firing in the joy and anger of revolution. Within the haze of the port city spiralled funnels of smoke were reaching toward the mountain peaks that joined the clouds. Grey strips in the tree green of life. But the city sparkled as it always did around this time of day with a sun just leaving morning knowing it will continue to make us a day. I look...

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Timing

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #352

I guess interesting is the word of wonder at why I look at my watch when waiting for the day break? I sit in a damp mood with anxiety looking for relief only gained by that sprig that lightens the darkness to morning. My watch had a hand that slides over a marked number five and another hand that has just passed the same number. It is dark all round me with on the tinted colours in my cockpit and up there in the sails. The mainsail pulls with drips that are invisible, just heard or just known to be there. I sit up recognising that I had slu...

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Unknown Sailor

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #351

It was a beautiful San Francisco day. Created for boat, sail and sea. The breeze was starting to show a potential for anything. I smiled at pulling the main and mizzen sail covers back and folding them. Three seagulls were cawing in disagreement about something while circling the marina. The cumulous moved slowly above the distant hills across the Bay making an undulating shadow play over brown and green mounds. The Bay was crisp with wavelets and green with invitation to a good sailing party for three: the Bay, Lizard King and me. I look...

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Seahawk

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #349

Today is April 31, he wrote in the logbook, still no radio contact. Approximately twenty some miles to Marathon. He smiled. “Still, no contact.” he called up through the hatchway. She looked over at the horizon, thinking about what they will be able to eat once ashore. She thought about anything but fish, but first vanilla ice cream; a triple scoop of tilting sweet milk on a perfect cone. She thought about sleeping in a bed. They could afford one night in a hotel or motel just to turn on the tv and sleep sprawled out and laugh at the news or...

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Benjamin Franklin and his runaway slave named King

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #344

I was told this story about Ben Franklin, you know the American guy with the string and kite. This was years ago when I travelled over East to the town of Woodbridge and some Black fella was going on about an old relative of his who lived in Woodbridge. I liked the tale and wrote it down as I could remember. I call it, Ben Franklin and his runaway slave named King. When Benjamin Franklin was a kid he got signed on as an indentured servant to his really brutal older brother who ran a print shop in Boston in the British Colony of Massachuset...

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Bolt

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #343

I could see the village off to starboard just where it should be. It didn’t help to know that people were doing their normal things with enjoyment or anger, or just nothing in their minds with me sitting out here on this mirror of an ocean unseen too far away for me to even be a curiosity. Of course I couldn’t see them either but as always happens when I see a port I get anxious about getting to it. I can see myself tying up to a dock and stepping ashore to go and get a cold beer and listen to whatever people have to say, just to have peopl...

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Go To Her

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #342

Since I didn’t know what to expect at the Hotel Oloffson I dressed respectful of island custom in long pants at night and a better quality cotton shirt. By the time my taxi arrived I had to take the shirt off and walk around the circular driveway garden holding it in front to dry in the humid self created breeze of my own walking. My legs wouldn’t stop draining their juices as I walked, and my pants stuck to me like a scared cat. The shirt did not dry completely but I figured everybody else must be having the same problems, so I ascended th...

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Le Carte Rouge

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #338

CW: Contains mature themes and sexual content Angie saw that I had that stupid smile that says I know what life is all about as I joined her back on the street. I shoulder bumped her to communicate something good has happened. We were on the way to the motel and away from the last book store. Holding a book at chest level I look at Angie.Angie gives in, ‘Okay, what is the book?’I smile broadly holding the book closer to my chest. ‘It is the book.’Angie smirks, ‘What book?’ she asks, looking both ways as we cross the street.I shake my head in...

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Black Man Sailing Q & A

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #335

Black Man Sailing: Q and A Why are you sailing? is a question I get asked with an emphasis on the you as though mostly as a question within a question. Me, particularly me and sailing combined in a question could be what anybody actually gets, but not upon first meeting usually maybe accompanied by a nodding and hearty glad you are here amongst us. I get it when those asking are white, but when those asking are black it takes on whole other dimensions. The white person usually asks why are you sailing out of a curiosity about why I am trying...

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Maybelle’s Cook Room

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #333

CW: Mature themes and mild sexual contentIt was hot in the cab with the plastic covering over the back seat here in the tropics. I guess I can’t really call it the tropics since there were only a few trees around outside of those in the all inclusive holiday hotel I was at, and the only wildlife was a donkey staring at me as we bumped our way past. The taxi driver was a kind man and after receiving my fare, told me softly, ‘Mabelle’s is the best food anybody can get… in the whole world, Mate.’He leaned over and opened my door from the inside...

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Bolt

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #332

Bolt I was alive and looking at my son sleeping peacefully with the innocence of quivering lashes. That ever slight shake of his dream put me back in time to a moment that stretched into timelessness and my sail alone into darkening seas. The first strike was off to port, disappearing before the corner of my eye could catch it, but its presence remained with a vague twisting thunder. The sky was beginning to hide behind a dense and brooding line of cloud. The line of horizon grew invisible somewhere between a dark grey sea and a light grey ...

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Edge of the Bay

H.e. Ross

Weekly Contest #330

It was a beautiful San Francisco day. Created for boat, sail and sea. The breeze was starting to show a potential for anything. I smiled at pulling the main and mizzen sail covers back and folding them. Three seagulls were cawing in disagreement about something while circling the marina. The cumulous moved slowly above the distant hills across the Bay making an undulating shadow play over brown and green mounds. The Bay was crisp with wavelets and green with invitation to a good sailing party for three: the Bay, Lizard King and me. I looked...

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