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Judah LoVato

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2020

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5 Stories

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What Might Have Been

Weekly Contest #339

Just east of the village was a stump, and on that stump sat Margueritte.She sat with her head in her hands, looking like a lonely statue in the dim light of the stars. She had been certain that Elidyr would be her husband. Though he had come to the village just six months ago, she thought the comfortable life she offered there would convince him to leave the hard life of the Way.Here he could have been a blacksmith and lived in a good house, in a good village, with an excellent wife. Instead, he chose to walk on. Endlessly. To some unknown e...

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The End of the Way

Content Warning: this story is told from the perspective of a dying man. Would I be dying here if I’d never read that book?I mean, I was born along the Way to begin with. I grew up traveling from village to village with my parents, following them as they sought the Light. They carried me along for so long, and they read me stories from the book and told me about the Way and the Walk- but maybe I would have stayed put in a village long ago if I’d never read it for myself. I must have been about sixteen when I started reading it. It was an e...

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The Walking Song

I’ve always had a song I’d sing. A kind of running theme; an undertone of my life.When I was a child, it was the village folk tunes: the foolish, bawdy ballads and the jubilant jigs of Way Stations.Like the one the Old Chief sang every morning while he bathed in the river: It’s hard when you startwithout pennies or shoes,it’s hard when it endsand there’s nothing to lose.It’s easy you say,take my heart take my hand! It’s easy you say,come join in the band!” They were funny songs, determined songs, songs which urged me to live to spite the ...

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Along The Way

Weekly Contest #336

CW: This story contains themes of grief, loss, and metaphorical death. Up to this point we have walked together. He walked just a few paces ahead, lighting the way bit by bit. Pointing out brambles, cutting branches, finding roots.“See those black roots?” He said once, shining his light on the rough growth, “Those are good food. They taste awful, but they’re better for you than the pink ones.”“But the pink ones taste better,” I said, “and are easier to find in the dark.”“True,” He said, “But that doesn’t mean it’s good for you.” That was lon...

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The Plaque

Weekly Contest #124

On the wall there was a plaque: “Where are those who have gone before us? Have they gone to the Field and planted roses, Have they lain themselves down among traveling stones Do they turn to dust from flesh and bones?” She read the plaque aloud, then lay her hand on the stone wall. She looked tired, as though her legs were to ready to give out. Light from the torches along the walls augmented the exhaustion in her face. “We’ve a long way, yet.” I said, “I’ll carry you awhile.” “But we're out of food- of water, you'll tire out.” “I'...

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