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Joel Swanson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

29 karma pts

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The Question

Joel Swanson

The Question Questions are always being asked In hopes of an answer I suppose. But not everyone thinks like you or me, they do not necessarily ask questions in hopes of obtaining an answer, that is not their purpose. I know a man, well, don’t really know him, but have been hired to keep an eye on the whereabouts of someone I know of. Why? I didn’t ask, it is not the type of question you should ask; nor would he have told me had I asked.Sometimes it’s best to not know the business of another; safer that way. I knew a few things about Abe Du...

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Whether, or Weather?

Joel Swanson

“It was terribly cold, snow was falling and it was getting dark. Do remember those days? I do, but they are slipping into a reality that no longer belongs to the present.It’s a line from a story by Hans Christian Anderson. It was a good thing for Hans he became a writer; people expect names like Hans and Christian on books and stories, I wonder what he’d have done if he’d been a tram driver or stable boy? You ever wonder about things like that? Some names inspire, while others call for tomatoes to be thrown. Eggs are better though; th...

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Don't Forget the Milk!

Joel Swanson

Submitted to Contest #333

Don’t Forget the Milk! “And don’t forget the milk.”Why does she think she has to remind me of everything? I’m not a kid anymore, although you’d never know it by the way she treats me. I feel like I’m at work, but not getting paid.She acts like I’ve never been to a store before. I go every week! I live here; I guess I know as much about what we need as she does. I do the cooking, so I know when I’m running out of something I need, but that don’t count I guess. Every time I’m getting ready to go to the market, out comes the list. She c...

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Holocaust of Souls

Joel Swanson

Submitted to Contest #328

Holocaust of Souls He was perched on an apple crate like a pigeon standing above a recently discarded chilidog, His eyes bulged; reminded me of a frog I once knew. The words erupted from his mouth tinged with molasses. He held a book in one hand and an old copy of Gideon’s bible in the other. He was dressed in bib overalls, his plaid shirt tucked neatly under its shoulder straps. The collar, although stained with the remnants of a hurriedly eaten lunch at Saint Abagail’s Mission on 135th street and Clandestine Avenue, adequately encompas...

3 likes