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Levi Michael

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2023

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19 Followers
7 Following

36 Stories

575 karma pts

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Closeted

Weekly Contest #374

Kerry pushed the giant metal button embossed with a blue stick figure in a wheel chair. The double doors hissed, opening with a stilted gait, rattling lightly as they settled. She stepped through, taking a deep breath of the wet afternoon air after a heavy, fast-moving shower had passed through, washing the contours of the quad. Clean stone, mossy earth, soaked and drying bark, and the cinnamon scent of decomposing leaves wafted about in a swirling potpourri of petrichor-ladden mist. Kerry closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her n...

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Sir Gregory

Weekly Contest #359

It’s been a tough year. My sister finally lost her battle with the big C, her boy—my nephew—is starting to get into trouble that his dad can’t seem to get ahead of, and now grandpa is losing his mind, and not in that way they depict in those Rexulti commercials, where an old man is quietly looking around his room wondering where he is as his family watches on, lovingly, wishing that they had more fully appreciated him when he was lucid. No such luck. He’s losing his mind violently. That kind of dementia that puts him, and those around him, i...

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10:02 to Toledo

Weekly Contest #345

d = rt If a train leaves Chicago at 10:02 am, heading toward Toledo at 75 miles per hour, onboard is a killer and another passenger, soon to be killed; and a boy, 29 miles away, on the same track, leaving Indiana, heading toward Chicago at an average speed of 2 miles an hour, how long until that boy witnesses a murder? m = 10:02 + x, 29 = (75x + 2x)x The brakeman gave the nod, the conductor gave the final call. The train eased forward with a thick peal, a timbre of complaint, as it pulled out of the station right on time, 10:02 on the dot...

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Lee, Kennedy & Doug

Weekly Contest #344

Friday, October 18, 1963, 10:02 pm One month and four days before the assassination The Oval Office, Washington D.C. John F. Kennedy leaned back in his leather chair, ankles crossed, heels resting on the corner of his resolute desk, a half moon washing through the windows. He chewed on a cigar, set it in its tray and scooped up his generously filled tumbler. He slugged back a shot, set the glass down. And switched the phone to his other hand. A distant voice squeaked from the receiver. “Well, er, Marilyn, that, uh, sounds nice and all, but ...

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Whoopsies

Weekly Contest #343

I “Hey, pop. How's it going down there?” “Mijo! Que bueno. Esta bien. It’s good to hear your voice.” Three sentence fragments in and my ex-pat turned gringo dad’s Spanish was effectively exhausted. After seventeen years in Costa Rica he still hadn’t picked up much, although he had a great accent, if you like arguably offensive and cliched impressions. Sometimes I do. “Good to hear yours. How’s the wife and the doggo? I saw your pepper pic. Looks like you’ve got a knack for it.” “Oh, yeah. It’s been a blast. You sound tired. You doing okay?” ...

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The Old Switcheroo

Weekly Contest #295

Jim and Kip sat in the dappled shade of the great elm on the eastern hill, their hats on their knees, eating their lunch, watching the procession from a distance. The mourners, along with the chaplain, were already sweating in their suits, moping their brows and fanning themselves in the late morning sun. Jim and Kip recognized the cues and started packing up their lunch boxes. Kip set his by the stump he was sitting on, flipped his hat from his knee to his head and snapped his suspenders onto his shoulders with a sigh. “Welp, looks like it’...

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Klar Alptraum

Weekly Contest #291

One can never know whether a dream is genuinely recurring or not, as the dream itself may smuggle in with it, the sensation of recurrence. — Al P. Traum, Psy.D. Mike Ester went to see Doctor Traum on a pleasantly overcast Wednesday afternoon. He pulled his puttering hatchback into an otherwise empty row of parking spots, stopped, and stared at the office building, his hands still gripping the wheel at ten and two while the car idled. He shifted the car into park and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, feeling the rumble of the engine...

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Tony Saves Us All

Weekly Contest #285

If someone were to ask you, “What happened on Y2K?” You’d probably say, “Nothing.” But that’s only because you don’t remember. You don’t remember that the first time it came around it destroyed humanity. You don’t remember the love between a boy and his friend. You don’t remember, because for you it never happened. If it hadn’t been for Herman I would have been happy to sit back and watch Y2K burn the world to the ground. My name’s Tony. I’m a Speak & Spell. I was one of the first to roll out with the new line in ‘78. I wasn’t lucky enough ...

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The Tell-Tale Fart

Weekly Contest #283

They’re looking at me like they can tell. I know they can’t. The only three that know are me, the fella in that deep hole, and my shovel. Still, Aunt Ida has paid me the not-so-subtle side eye all evening, and uncles Al and Sam have been exchanging cryptic comments and nods, and looking away at odd times. Christmas dinner is always weird, but this year it feels weirder. Mom and Dad have been cool, though. It was probably just me. “How’s clown college?” My cousin Alex chewed away at something green as he raised an eyebrow in half-interest. I ...

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White Elephant

Weekly Contest #281

white elephant /,(h)wīd ‘elaf(ə)nt/ noun A possession that is useless or troublesome, especially one that is expensive to maintain or difficult to dispose of. They both stared down at the box, the snow scrolling uncannily to the ground as if in a vacuum, falling on the shallow drifts that glowed iridescently under a cloudless sky and full moon beyond the rails of the porch. The box, a nearly perfect cube about the size of a big basketball, was neatly wrapped in red and gold and white paper, an ornate Damascus pattern. The lid independently...

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The Hackneyed Haunt

Weekly Contest #275

The others in my appetite, and I, swayed and shuffled as we stood among the trees, docile since the food had run out. The last of the light disappeared over the horizon. The forest fell into a gloom. I doddered through an opening and came to stand beside a looming elm. Standing next to it felt right. Some of the others were standing by trees as well, a natural instinct. The snap of a twig caught my attention. I turned slowly and staggered toward the shadows. I clawed at the bushes and found nothing. I listened. Nothing. Eventually I came to ...

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Brunswick

Weekly Contest #274

Herman’s face was obscured amid the shadows cast by the firelight. He sat deep in his overstuffed wingback chair, a blanket over his lap. Andrew settled into the well-worn chair, opposite Herman. He dug into his briefcase and produced a tape recorder and a pen and a pad. He set the recorder on the small table. “Yeah, I guess I will take that drink.” He glanced up at the butler. “Rye. Rocks.” “Thank you, Benson,” Herman dismissed his butler with the wave of his two-fingered hand. Benson bowed. He wordlessly poured and served Andrew before exc...

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Arthur's Appendix

Weekly Contest #274

Arthur Harris was a loving husband, an attentive father, and a hard, honest worker. In fact, it had been almost twelve years since he had missed a day of work. And, so, it was with an antsy frustration that he lay in his hospital bed, trying as hard as he could to wait patiently for the doctor. After what felt like years, but was closer to just over an hour, the doctor finally paid him a visit. He strolled into Arthur’s room, pinching the temple of his bifocals as he perused his medical chart. He came to stand next to the quietly beeping mon...

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The Second Greatest Trick

Weekly Contest #273

Uncle Al held up the silver dollar, “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled,” covered it with his other hand, “Was convincing the world he doesn’t exist,” and made it disappear. He held out an empty palm. Nick leaned in. “Woah.” Uncle Al’s palm was gone in a flash, replaced by a cautionary finger. “The second greatest trick?” Nick stared up at him. Uncle Al reached down and tugged the boy’s ear. With the ring of the metal edge, he held the coin up to the boy’s face. “Woah,” Nick jumped back. Uncle Al held the dollar out to him. “Happy Birt...

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Mom?

Weekly Contest #272

Susan rushed into the bathroom, closed the door behind her and rested her back against it. She took a deep breath and combed her hair out of her face. Everything's fine, Susan. She nodded, agreeing with herself and took another deep breath. She pushed off the door and straightened her cardigan. She pulled her shoulders back and marched the two steps to the sink. She reached for the medicine cabinet and clutched the edge of the mirror. Before she could open it, she caught a glimpse of herself. It was only day five and she looked like hell. He...

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