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Logan Richard

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2026

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33 Followers

25 Following

23 Stories

353 karma pts

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Numb Harvest

Weekly Contest #373

The train crossed the salt marshes outside New Carthage at twenty minutes past midnight, its magnetic rails humming with the low, teeth-aching vibration that always made Michael Janes press his thumb into his temples while thirty-two commuters sat submerged beneath the flickering glare of predictive retinal advertisements. Outside, the black Atlantic churned against cracked concrete breakwaters, throwing plumes of bitter spray into the coastal fog, but inside carriage four, Michael sat alone with the terrible knowledge that he was the only p...

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Her Love For Me

Weekly Contest #368

Chelsea stood in front of the bathroom mirror the way she did every morning, as if she were waiting for it to say something different than it always said. The light above the sink was too honest. It found the faint lines starting to bracket her mouth, the softness along her jaw that hadn't been there five years ago, the small scar above her eyebrow from a childhood bicycle accident that she had once found endearing and now found merely visible. She turned sideways, then turned back, then reached up and pulled her hair away from her face to s...

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Blood is Thicker

Weekly Contest #365

They found me in the alley behind my studio at dusk, three of them, and I knew from the way they moved, loose-limbed, emboldened by numbers, that this wasn't just talk anymore."Hey, freak." The tallest one, maybe seventeen, stepped forward. "My brother says you lick the blood off the skins. That true?" Standing several heads taller than all of them, I looked down my nose at my harassers. I kept my hands visible, my body language small. Non-threatening. I've had practice. "Your brother's mistaken.""He saw you through the window. Said you were...

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In the Corner

Weekly Contest #363

The first time Josephine Pratt saw one, she was reaching for a box of cereal.It was a Tuesday evening at the Safeway on Merchant Street, fluorescent lights humming their eternal monotone above the aisles. Her hand extended toward the Special K, fingers splayed, when something moved in the corner of her right eye. Something that shouldn't move. Something wet.She turned her head sharply.Nothing. Just the orderly rows of breakfast foods, their bright boxes promising fiber and heart health and morning vitality.Josephine stood very still, her han...

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Last Supper at the Edge

Weekly Contest #362

The numbers didn't make sense at first.Jacob Austin had been monitoring the deep-space telemetry feeds for three hours when the anomaly appeared. It was a spike in the electromagnetic spectrum, a sudden flare of radiation from Alpha Centauri that painted the monitors in urgent crimson. He leaned forward, his coffee forgotten, steam rising like a ghost beside his hand. He ran the scan again. The readings intensified."Station AI," he said. "Confirm telemetry from Alpha Centauri. Something's wrong with the data.""Telemetry confirmed," the AI re...

8 likes

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Weight of the Sol

Weekly Contest #360

The morning begins like every other morning.Naomi Johnson sits at her desk in the liaison office, overlooking Orion's habitation rings through a reinforced viewport. Neptune fills half the view—a cold sapphire sphere wrapped in storms that have raged for centuries. She's watched those storms every morning since she arrived as a young diplomatic attaché. Now, at forty-three, she knows every swirl and eddy by heart.Her fingers move across the holographic interface suspended above her desk, pulling up the morning's data streams. Supply manifest...

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What Comes Next

Weekly Contest #359

The body lay in a pool of congealed blood on Italian marble, one arm stretched toward the floor-to-ceiling windows as if reaching for the city sixty stories below. Detective Steve Schweimer stood at the threshold of Elena Reeves' penthouse, breathing in the copper-sweet smell of death mixed with expensive perfume that still lingered in the air."Single gunshot wound to the chest," said the medical examiner, a tired woman named Bertha who'd seen too many bodies in her twenty years. "Close range. Time of death between two and four AM."Schweimer...

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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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