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Logan Richard

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2026

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19 Following

16 Stories

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The Architecture of Paranoia

Weekly Contest #357

Jesse Church woke at 3:47 AM with his heart hammering against his ribs. The bedroom was dark except for the pale blue glow of the security monitor—twelve camera feeds cycling through the house. Beside him, Elena breathed in the deep, steady rhythm of the unburdened.His hand reached for the notebook on his nightstand, leather worn smooth from months of anxious handling. He opened it to the latest page:November 3rd, 2:15 PM - David asked about my schedule for next week. Specific interest in Thursday evening. Why?November 5th, 9:30 AM - Coffee ...

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What the Water Keeps

Weekly Contest #356

The lake had no business being there.Nora had walked this stretch of the Gatineau hills every autumn for eleven years, ever since she moved back from Vancouver, ever since she moved back from grief and there had never been a lake at the bottom of the birch ravine. A creek, yes. A bog in wet years that swallowed her boots and made her swear in both her languages. But not this: a perfectly still oval of water, maybe thirty meters across, catching the October sky and holding it the way a bowl holds soup, carefully, as if aware of its own fragil...

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Horizon's Edge

Weekly Contest #355

The fiber-optic stars embedded in Iris Thorne's wedding gown flickered in rhythm with her racing heart. She stood alone in her quarters, one hour before the ceremony, staring at the holographic display floating above her wrist console. Coordinates. Two sets of them, separated by thirty years and three hundred light-years of empty space. The original destination: Kepler-442b, the promised world their ancestors had launched toward two centuries ago. The actual destination: Unknown. Uncharted. A world her mother had chosen in secret.Iris's fing...

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THE CONVERGENCE PROTOCOL

Dr. Maya Chen had been staring at the spectroscopic readout for three hours when she finally accepted that everything she knew about materials science was wrong.The metal fragment sat in the analysis chamber like a splinter of frozen starlight—no larger than her thumbnail, but dense enough to register point-seven kilograms on the precision scale. Its surface shimmered with an iridescence that shifted between gold and silver, as if it couldn't decide which element it wanted to be."This is impossible," she whispered to the empty Stockholm Univ...

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The Graying

I woke to wrongness.That was the first sensation: not sight, not sound, but the primitive animal awareness that something fundamental had shifted in the night. My eyes opened to the ceiling above my bed, and for several long seconds, my brain refused to process what it was seeing. The ceiling was gray. Not the warm cream color I'd painted it three years ago, not the soft ivory that caught the morning light and made it glow like honey. Gray. A flat, lifeless gray that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.I sat up, heart hammering aga...

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The Idiot God

Weekly Contest #351

James Jefferson had always been the smartest man in the world, though he wore the title with neither pride nor humility, merely as one might acknowledge the color of their eyes. By age seven, he had mastered calculus. By twelve, he had published his first theoretical physics paper under a pseudonym, knowing that no journal would take a child seriously. By twenty-three, he held doctorates in neuroscience, quantum mechanics, and comparative literature. His mind was a cathedral of reason, each thought a precisely placed stone in an architecture...

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A World, Full Circle

Weekly Contest #350

Ashla Reeves had been homeless for two years when the purple flash changed everything. Twenty-three years old but looking a decade older, she walked Westheimer Road with her head down, invisible to the lunch-hour crowd. The factory had closed, the eviction had followed, and now she lived behind dumpsters and in doorways, her entire life compressed into a backpack.She was passing between a bank and a law office when reality tore open.The flash was purple, violent, impossibly bright, a vertical slash of crackling energy in the narrow alley. Be...

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The Last Trade

Weekly Contest #349

The wind carried ash and memory across the Colorado wasteland. Ninety-seven years had passed since the bombs fell, since humanity fractured into scattered tribes. At the base of Pike's Peak stood the Crossroads, a ramshackle trading post serving as neutral ground where various peoples could meet without bloodshed.Steve had made this journey a dozen times, descending from his home high in the Rockies with goods to trade. His people, the Mountain Born, had adapted to the thin, irradiated air and brutal cold. Steve's chest was a barrel of dense...

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The Conveyor

Weekly Contest #348

The fluorescent lights in Corridor D-7 hummed with the same mechanical persistence they had for the past eight years. Jeff Mallory had learned to tune out that sound, the way he'd learned to tune out so many things. His boots clicked against the polished concrete floor in a rhythm he no longer consciously controlled, left, right, left, right. It was a metronome of routine that had become as automatic as breathing. The Nexus Rehabilitation and Conversion Facility sprawled across forty-three acres of what had once been farmland in rural Pennsy...

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Occupational Hazard

Weekly Contest #346

Michael's eyes snapped open at 6:47 AM, thirteen minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Something felt wrong. Not wrong in the way that signaled illness or injury, but wrong in a way he couldn't quite articulate. His skin felt alive, electric, as if every nerve ending had been dialed up to maximum sensitivity. A tingling sensation rippled across his body in waves, starting at his fingertips and toes before cascading inward toward his chest, then radiating back out again in an endless cycle.He lay there in his small Brooklyn apartment, s...

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11:59 PM

Weekly Contest #345

The fluorescent lights of St. Catherine's Memorial Hospital hummed their familiar song. Every Sunday, Darren made the forty-minute drive to spend the day with his mother, Victoria. It had become ritual since her admission six months ago.Victoria suffered from Hemolytic Autoimmune Cascade Syndrome, HACS, a rare disease where her immune system attacked her red blood cells, triggering inflammatory responses that cascaded through her organs.The doctors at St. Catherine's were pioneering experimental treatments—cutting-edge drugs not yet FDA appr...

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The Eternity Gate

Weekly Contest #344

The Egyptian sun beat down mercilessly on the Giza plateau. Daniel Mercer wiped sweat from his brow, three years of permits and academic politics finally bringing him beneath the Great Pyramid itself. The air was thick and stale, carrying the weight of millennia. His flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating limestone blocks fitted together four thousand years ago. He was alone, waiting for the discovery that would rewrite everything.He ran his hand along the western wall, feeling subtle variations. His fingers traced a seam, th...

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Life's Door

Weekly Contest #343

Adam had lived his entire life between the Walls, and in all those years, he had never seen anything quite like the door on the Eastern Wall. It wasn't like the other doors—the warm, wooden portals that led to wall-hovels where families gathered, or the wide communal entrances where neighbors shared stories and meals.No, this door was different. Fundamentally, terrifyingly different.It stood nearly twelve feet tall, constructed from rusted metal that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The surface was pitch black, like obsidian gl...

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The Weight of Light

Weekly Contest #340

I am Las-Tec 890, serial number 447-Alpha-Kilo-9, manufactured in the Terrestrial Defense Foundries of New Pittsburgh on March 14th, 2187.Private Chen has been holding me for six hours and forty-three minutes. His palms sweat, creating a thin film between flesh and polymer grip. I taste the salt through my sensors, the acidic tang of fear mixed with metallic adrenaline. I do not know if I am capable of fear, but I register something in my diagnostic systems that might be its equivalent: a recursive loop of uncertainty, a questioning of param...

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The Barsdale Demons

Weekly Contest #339

Barsdale was a dank and dreary village. Nestled where two mountains touched like folded hands, the growing settlement had learned how to survive with its back to the wall or climbing over it in order to escape. The constant rain helped. Grey sheets of water that blurred the edges of the world, turning the village into little more than smoke and shadow against the mountainous backdrop when viewed from below. Those hulking stone masses leaned inward, shielding what they could.But they couldn't shield everything.Marik had been twelve the first ...

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