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James V

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2024

Stories (7)

Comments

Library

9 Followers

13 Following

7 Stories

158 karma pts

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Assisted (or 3 Views of Death)

James V

Submitted to Contest #330

The Dad woke to a bright, sunny morning. Through the window, he could see the trees beginning to turn their fall colors. The air was brisk. Forty degrees, the kind of cold that woke the bones even when the sun promised a clear day. He dressed slowly, pulling on his khakis and his navy wool sweater. It was his favorite. His wife had bought it for him on their trip to England in the 1990s, from a little shop off the English Channel. He’d lost it for years and found it again only after sorting through her things when she passed. He layered a gr...

8 likes

The Night of an Execution

James V

Submitted to Contest #318

It was 2 a.m. Emilio leaned back in his chair, eyes on the security monitors, watching the prisoners sleep. He saw them toss and turn, heard faint snores through the static, and felt his own eyelids beginning to grow heavy. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but the night shift on death row had its own rhythm in that it was quiet, eerie, and always reminding him that every cell he scanned had once held someone who was now gone.Later that day, one of those empty beds would have a new vacancy. Reverend Franklin was scheduled for execution, fast-tracke...

13 likes

AskChat

James V

Submitted to Contest #304

Another family was dead. Another teenager sat quietly on the front steps, waiting for the police to arrive.It was a Wednesday night, and dinner was still on the table. Chicken cutlets with pesto pasta. A favorite of the Benedetti family. Now, the cutlets were cold, and the pasta was speckled with the blood of the family matriarch.Prosecutor’s Detective Al Stewart, a former NYPD officer who had retired into what was supposed to be quieter work with the Prosecutor’s Office, pulled up in front of the house. He sat in his car for a moment, poppe...

9 likes

Clown Show

James V

Submitted to Contest #299

Yo-yo stared at the wall in front of him, inspecting each speck of brick laid decades ago by some long-dead brick master. How proud must that guy have felt, finishing a wall with his bare hands, spinning concrete like it was art, smoothing every last glob with precision?And now here Yo-yo was—hungover, wearing piss-soaked drawers, half-assed face paint melting in the heat, sitting in a beat-up 2005 Ford Taurus with a different-colored fender and a side mirror held on with Scotch tape.He had a college degree. He could’ve been on the ground fl...

5 likes

Hong Kong

James V

Submitted to Contest #291

Terry had crossed a city he barely understood, among people whose language he could not speak. And yet, with her, none of it felt foreign. They had only just met, but it was as if they had lived a lifetime together in these few hours. The tangled streets, the neon lights shimmering in puddles, the weight of something unspoken between them—it wrapped around him like a spell. He followed blindly, mesmerized, as she led him deeper into the labyrinth of Hong Kong’s backstreets.Then she stopped.The stench of rot hung in the damp air. Weeks-old ga...

16 likes

The Preachers of Times Square Don’t Want You to Forget

James V

Submitted to Contest #288

The preachers of Times Square stood lined up on their makeshift pulpits—soapboxes, overturned crates, cardboard stands—each delivering their daily sermons to anyone willing, or unwilling, to listen. They came in all forms: different faiths, different beliefs, different levels of sanity. This was the reality of the city—freedom of expression at its most unfiltered, ready to invade your mind with the most incoherent ramblings you’d ever hear.A storm was coming. The wind was crisp, cutting through the city streets as Sarah and Joseph walked tog...

9 likes

The Bookie Boys

James V

Submitted to Contest #286

“I swear to God himself, Earl Morrall should be shot, and if they need someone to do it, I’ll drive down to Baltimore right now to make sure that useless sack of shit never touches the football field again.” Isaac slammed his hand against the steering wheel, his rage bubbling over as he ranted about the Baltimore Colts’ humiliating defeat to the New York Jets in Super Bowl III. They’d lost to Joe Namath and the Jets, and Isaac wasn’t about to let it go.Ten minutes into this tirade, Louis, sitting in the passenger seat, let out a long sigh. T...

10 likes