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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2026
Submitted to Contest #339
Like an old wooden ship high up on the waves, that van sailed into New Orleans. The gas in its tank was the finest wind caught and harnessed by the sails, the bow creaking as it dropped above and below the ever moving horizons. There could be no doubt, no doubt at all. These were pirates, sailing the seas. Found in their lostness, lost in their fondness of loss. Sneering and laughing at the people who had produced them, their van, their Redwing boots, torn up t-shirts, and grunge cassette tapes. Their hair was long, back when long hair meant...
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