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Martin Ross

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2021

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133 Stories

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Defused

Weekly Contest #325

The condemned enjoys a hearty meal. Millet and figs -- a feast four times its weight. Though it is to serve as a mere amuse bouche, Taylor considers this a reasonably fair exchange. It gorges in confined darkness and silence, tricked into a manufactured night of delirium and gluttonous terror that will end unimaginably worse. As honored guest, Taylor is granted the privilege -- the added privilege -- of drowning the creature himself. If he is disappointed the once-delicate songbird is now bloated and too horror-choked to at least put up a sc...

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The Catch: A Tale of the Life Sciences Department

THE FOLLOWING IS A CONDENSATION OF A FORTHCOMING NOVELETTE “And just what the fuck is this?” Will yelped, nearly crashing back into Life Science’s new DecoRad Systems BV Electrical Penetration Graph (EPG) system. “I know, right?” Brock Heckersley breathed. “I never knew Grandpa to fish -- he was more like a big brain guy -- but the freezer was just full of these little frozen fuckers. Sorry, man.” “I think we just established that isn’t necessary,” Associate Professor Kalish murmured. The entomologist glanced apprehensively at the scuffed Ig...

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The Virgin's Sacrifice

Weekly Contest #323

CAUTION: PUT THE KIDS TO BED FIRST. The Virgin tilted her head back slightly to accept the oud and neroli. In point of fact, the initial rose oil had rolled down her porcelain forehead into her cornflower right eye. An application of Murine had been hastily sanctified and applied – this was a rite fundamentally and foremost of purity, and even broken capillaries might compromise the ritual’s chaste imagery and integrity. Especially in HD. The Virgin’s ethereal paleness and preternaturally fine skin merely exacerbated the slightest flaw. Not ...

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The Ascendance Ritual

Weekly Contest #323

Celebrities were terrific for the Millington tourist trade, the restaurateurs, the University, the congenitally floundering Coliseum that survived mainly on the Billboard/social media status of honky-tonkin’/flag-wagglin’ cosplay cowboys and sociopolitically suspect “motivational” evangelists. To Curtis, celebrities were antibiotic-resistant hemorrhoids with a side-order of jackhammer migraines and super-strained, scorching STDs. Curtis nodded empathetically toward the coroner’s guys, who having hauled the remains of America's newly departed...

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Figure on a Grassy Common at Twilight: A Tale of the Arts Department

Weekly Contest #321

CW: Contains references to abuse, psychological trauma, and suicide attempts. “University install a new time rift no one bothered to text Faculty about?” Anand Deshpande murmured as he studied the formation just beyond Wrightson Hall. “Given our current sociopolitical trajectory, it somehow seems imminently plausible.” “You’re not entirely off-base,” Saanvi cut brightly through her husband’s sardonic bleakness. Dusk was settling in, with a bruised pink aura to the west, and the late afternoon Main Street rush two blocks over was transitioni...

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Chanoyu: A Tale of the Arts Department

Weekly Contest #320

“This is all my fault.” Wei Zhao possessed uncommon but abstract compassion. Comfort was within her wheelhouse; consolation and absolution were anomalous amenities within her academic circle. “I’m sure that’s not true,” Wei murmured. Professor Deshpande, Saanvi, was still, serene, as usual. No help at all, for having dragged her into this drama. “If I hadn’t talked her into getting out, meeting people, being more active and engaged, this would never have happened.” Akira Ostrander insisted. “She was living, I suppose, her version of a harmon...

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The Sub in Question

Weekly Contest #317

Introduction and First Reading And the multitudes proclaimed that he who had cast the first sandwich was without sin. Councilman Plessy dissented. “I mean, it was a fucking sandwich,” the mayor murmured, as the Third Ward rep swiped macerated tuna and mayo from his cheeks and his favorite red Monday night polo. “It was fucking assault is what it was!” Plessy raged. “It was malice of forethought, incitation, terrorism against a public official, and I could have been seriously injured.” “Maybe, it’d been toasted or a footlong,” Detective Mead ...

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The Overnight

Weekly Contest #315

He glanced again at the suit, draped as always over the back of the loveseat she’d always called the sofa until the day she’d granted him full custody. The lines, the fabric of both the Men’s Wearhouse two-button charcoal basic and the mocha couch were pristine and perfect: The suit straight from Millington Same-Day Dry Cleaning, the loveseat from willful disuse. It had simply filled a gap in the living room feng shui – snuggling had never been their love language, and entertaining had never been their meat. It was a form with neither physic...

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The Legend of Mere Noire: A Mike Dodge Histery

Weekly Contest #314

CW: Themes of violence and substance abuse The first arc of the blade split the long plank bar, driving Boisfort expensively into the bottles and jugs on the back wall. Boisfort rose smelling of musk and sawdust and rye and corn whiskey and applejack and, most lamentably, the prized cognac delivered by train just that morning. Struggling to his feet, the behemoth roared an oath that might have moved Tarabeth Montgomery to a far more homicidal act had he used his adopted tongue. As it was, the petite, axe-wielding Methodist read the storm in...

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HAI and The Out-of-Towners

Weekly Contest #312

HI, GOOD TO MEET YOU! I'M HAI. HOW CAN I HELP YOU TODAY? BUT FIRST, COULD YOU TELL ME SOMETHING ABOUT YOURSELF? I’m sorry. Your reply does not conform to any of the 10,017 known human languages. Here are some visual, auditory, neurocognitive, and semantic anchoring/contextual cues that might help facilitate a productive conversation. ** Thank you. I will now activate LinguaNexus by Delphiniux, and we can begin. DELPHINIUX – A WORLD OF POSSIBILITIES IN ONE CLICK! The more complete and detailed your responses, the better I can serve your infor...

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Alignment: A Tale of the Arts Department

Weekly Contest #311

“I regret…” “Yes?” Saanvi probed after a moment. A sudden, revelatory smile. Devoid of contrition or shame. “Nothing.” ** “Professor Saanvi Deshpande,” the petite woman announced, smiling serenely down at the redheaded undergrad behind the registration table. “Of course,” “A-H” beamed. “I almost took your commercial graphics course fall semester, but then I switched my major. To, ah, Business Administration,” the younger woman whispered, peeking at “R-Z” conversing with a registrant about the atrium’s gleaming marble floor being “a missed op...

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Derek and Annika 2: An Escalating Narrative

Disclaimer: This is the sequel to Derek and Annika: An Evolving Story (Contest #305) that nobody asked for… Prologue July 2025 “So what’s the plan here?” Eric fucking jumped. The pre-owned aftermarket bed cover almost slammed down on his right hand. His writing hand. The woman in Eric’s headlights cleared her throat. “I said…” “Shit,” Eric squeaked. “Sorry.” “What is your plan here?” New York Times bestselling author Hannah Morstan-Doyle inquired, calmly. “Please tell me you’re not going to dump the body in the creek back there. You’re playi...

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The Red Drink: A Tale of the Arts Department

Weekly Contest #309

“How about a Sorel Hibiscus Mule?” “I’d prefer a Ten-to-One, you don’t mind,” I told the “bartender.” “Never was a vodka girl.” Her nearly unlined face tightened slightly, drawing the ruby smile out and adding a new glint to the still-sharp espresso eyes. “Do I know you?” That was Thea. Fifty years and some change later, despite the $100 sterling silver cut and sleek Sika dress, it was the same “girl” who’d flipped off a heavily armored Chicago cop, teeth pressed against bottom lip in an undeniable expression of defiance, and still managed t...

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Undetected: A Tale of the Art Department

Weekly Contest #308

Ethan’s heart thudded in his ears as the Council volunteers tugged the University-logoed plastic tarpaulin from Undetected. The pomp and ceremony associated with installation normally was of little significance to Assistant Professor Cooper. Nebraska-born, he found the labor itself – the design, the craft, the exhilarating exhaustion, the stiffness and sweat and abrasions and nicks inherent in converting Matter into Art – the true rush. But this Saturday afternoon, 92 degrees with a triple-figure index that had applied a virtual hot patch ov...

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Notes On A Summer Day at The Lake

Weekly Contest #307

“As you start to walk on the way, the way appears.” Rumi June 11 The boy waits, just this side of the goose shit. If not for the semi-sprung folding chair and tripod, I’m thinking one of the Lake’s more common species – black frayed cap, black logo tee, second-owner Nike cross-trainers. Cross-training on the art of the sociopath on the stray mallard or woodchuck by daylight and the way of the predator in the shadows of a degrading dusk. Anywhere between 16 and 25, stalking the weak to feed the beast. I slow. Zack trains a long lens into the...

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