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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2022
Submitted to Contest #324
The sun and the clouds were having a ball. Spinning around and around in gay abandonment. The light show was tongue-in-cheek dramatic. A sense of fun as a last hurrah. Autumn was nigh but content to pause and allow Summer a little more time. The leaves could have another few days in their present clothes. Soon a new wardrobe would arrive. The walk to the clifftop was arduous. Not quite as remembered. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck, cooled and dribbled down his back. He felt unclean as much as he was aware of how unfit he had become. ...
Submitted to Contest #323
The old man hunched over into his cloak. His head dwelt somewhere in the folds of its hood. Carr imagined it to be shrunken. Valleys of age rippling parallel to each other like the walnuts he’d seen as a child. Once again, the tankard was brought into the shadows of that hood and Carr was impressed at the deficit of beer when it returned to the firelit table. “You wish to hear the tale?” although old, the man’s voice remained strong. There was a power to it. He knew how to convey his message. This man had lived a life and supped with great p...
He did not count the time down, but suspended in the air between the dust motes was always the same timing. Here in the sacred rituals of his life was a rhythm to which he effortlessly moved. The ebb and flow as he prepared his breakfast and the first mug of tea calmed him more than the tea itself. The kitchen was not tidy. The kitchen was also not untidy. It existed in that space that spoke of it being lived in. There was no mess. Only the hint of works in progress. He looked beyond that which he often took for granted and gave thanks for t...
The Wall was The Wall. The Wall had been created for a single purpose and its purpose would be known. Or it would revisit the path until the lesson was learned. This was the nature of The Wall. There was nothing more to it. And there was everything to it. Beyond The Wall was The Song. Some said The Song was the true voice of the world, but there was far more to it than that. To hear The Song was to be reduced to nothing and become far more than could be imagined. There was an infinite beauty to The Song and an unfathomed joy. The Song was li...
Submitted to Contest #322
Chandler scrabbled up the rocky path, his feet losing purchase. His shoes suited to the streets. Here they struggled. His breath was laboured. Lungs complaining at long last. Feeble moans about a misspent youth that had led to habits that would never end well. Regular visits to the pub for a quick one, followed by several slow ones and a double whisky to round things off. Solitary therapy sessions. Toasts to the fallen. He communed with the ghosts of his past on his terms then. An escape from their incessant presence. Worrying away at the ed...
Submitted to Contest #321
Tommy knew this place like the back of his hand. Better than the back of his hand, because for him, the back of his hand was unremarkable and so he took it for granted. That was how it was and that was how it went. He’d been born with that part of his hand and he had another that, although not identical was pretty much the same. Yes, it had grown, but it had remained unremarkable even with the criss-cross of scarring and cigarette burns. His hand would be there regardless of any interest he may have in it. Right now, he could not see the bac...
Submitted to Contest #320
Emily ran. In the running there was nothing else. She was nothing other than her escape. The energy of it took her away and away. All there was, was the moment. Her lungs rasped a cyclical protest. A quiet scream with every exhalation. Her legs and arms clumsy, labouring pistons. But something held her in a constant state of movement. She leant into a pursuit of an uncertain future. Threatening to overbalance and end everything in her fall. There was a trick of momentum here though. As long as she kept going, invisible puppet strings held he...
Submitted to Contest #319
The hedgerows file past in a green blur that mirrors the passage of time. He does not notice this. Few ever do. That is a lie that they tell themselves. Yet another filter. He sees so much, but most of it is lost. Filed away in the file called bin, headed for the landfill site of his subconscious. In amongst the flotsam and jetsam there is gold. The litter wilfully discarded during the course of a misspent lifetime smothers the answers to the questions that must be asked in order to make sense of life. And asked to establish who he really is...
Submitted to Contest #318
When he told me I was so very pleased. I was also confused and in that confusion, I realised I was scared. This inexplicable feeling of fear clutched at my heart with ice cold fingers making me feel nauseous with the bad eventualities I regularly torture myself with. However often you go into battle, the fear never leaves you. All you can do is embrace it and make of it an ally and a friend. Learn from it. Relate to it. Comfort it with your actions despite its protestations. You see, every step he takes out into the world now is a step away ...
Submitted to Contest #317
“Do I know you?” “I dunno, do you?” John’s been building up to this approach and the question that’s been worrying away at him like a puppy pulling at his sleeve and demanding attention that must be given come what may. The question. A question. Constructing an adequate siege engine with which to smash down the doors and find the answers he desires. There is something about this man. In a way, he’s glad it’s a man. He does not have that leaning, he finds women attractive, men don’t do it for him. And so it should be easier to approach the st...
Submitted to Contest #316
Can you keep a secret? I’m sure you can. We all can when it’s in our best interests. We can when it’s our own secret. After all, we keep the secret of our true selves hidden throughout our lives. Why? Because we know that some fucker will use it against us. You see, there is magic in this. Powerful magic. And by giving someone the magical words of your secret self, you open a door that can never be closed and you hand your power to another. So, if I tell you my secret, I’m afraid I will have to kill you! She smiles at the preface. Then she...
They know. The paranoia of their approach has become a certainty. Their prying eyes seek my truth. It’s the buzz word that irritates me to the point of madness. Looping around and around my head with the threat of stinging pain. The honeymoon period is over. Their gaze penetrates beyond the surface as they say it vehemently. An expletive ladened with religious fervour. Narcissist. Their growing awareness did not concern me at first, but then it hit a resonant frequency. There was a song of change that grew louder and louder, until my ears r...
Submitted to Contest #315
She knows that everyone is unique. She can’t see it, but she knows it because she read it in a book once and there was a conviction to the words that made them stick. A value that would be of use to her. Besides, she could read the room as well as books. She is unique. This she can see. It’s obvious that she’s different to the rest. Even her cow of a mother. Her mother thinks they are the same, but she is sorely mistaken. Her mother is a walking compromise. Unable to translate her greatness into this world. Wanting to belong in a way that di...
CW: Themes of suicidal ideation The sun cascaded over the hilltop and spilled down into the valley. Sweet honey for his eyes and for his soul. He fancied he heard a defiant cry from the night as it angrily clutched its cloak of darkness and fled the land it was only ever a visitor in. A temporary interloper seducing life into a drunken stupor that it always awoke from. The myriad greens upon the hillside were testament to the sun’s reign and nowhere was as full of life as this remote spot nestled in the bosom of the hills. The solitary cotta...
Submitted to Contest #314
CW:Sexual content.Summers here are chaotic and slapdash. A misfiring engine of weather that brings with it rain, winds and an unreliability that saps a person’s energy. When it’s hot, the temperature gauge does not climb all that high. The day itself is lazy and obese. It sweats and sweats until it gets unbearable. An argument of an atmosphere that would be spoiling for a fight, if it had the wherewithal to get itself up off the sofa. Passive aggression that builds and builds until your nervous system shudders and your head aches for an abse...
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