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Margie Wood

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020

Stories (4)

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4 Stories

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The Dispose-All

Margie Wood

Submitted to Contest #325

Elizabeth Ardbredth stood impatiently at the kitchen sink, jabbing at the switch to turn on the garbage disposal. Just back from an evening meeting of the Christian Lady’s Admirable Works Society, she finished washing the dishes left in the sink by her husband, Buzzell. Buzzell was intently reading the paper, as usual, so Elizabeth had to take care of everything herself. And now the disposal was jammed again. Elizabeth sighed and reached one yellow-gloved hand down the drain. Much to her surprise, as she poked around the blades and kn...

4 likes

CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN AND THE COMMUTER TRAIN TO PHILLY

Margie Wood

Submitted to Contest #299

The red bottom. The shiny red bottom. Karen can’t stop admiring her shoes, turning her foot this way and that, crossing and uncrossing her legs to see them glint in the glaring light of the train car. Sure they were way too expensive. But she had to. Especially after her boss, Caleb, in the Neiman Marcus shoe department, laughed when she asked him when they would go on sale. “Louboutins?” he snickered. “Honey if they went on sale they wouldn’t be Louboutins.” That nasal last syllable killed her. And Caleb wasn’t even his real name, just his ...

5 likes

Callisto

Margie Wood

Submitted to Contest #298

“Well now, that’s a bear,” Sukie says to herself. Black against the late November snow, it lumbers on all fours, sniffing and pulling at tree branches. “But there’s no bears here anymore. Not in this part of Vermont.” Sukie steps quietly behind a tree, peering through the pines. “But that’s a bear.” She squints. “A pregnant bear.” The bear sniffs the air and shambles closer. Sukie sniffs the air in return and steps out from behind the tree. The bear glances at her, sniffs again, and wanders off. Back in the house, Sukie puts on some tea and ...

6 likes

The Jumbee Queen

Margie Wood

Submitted to Contest #215

The Jumbee Queen The bayou steams and drips. Twisted vines and sucking mud line the banks of a muddy creek. Clancy, 10, fishes in the fetid stream. He watches his line, pulled downstream by the current, unaware of a form, sleek and slithery, sliding through the water straight towards him. Suddenly an arm reaches out of the darkness beneath the bridge and jerks him out of the stream. He starts to yelp but a creaky old voice hushes him. “Cottonmouth, boy.” He sees the hea...

7 likes