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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2021
“You are an EVIL man! A MONSTER! People will hear about this! I swear. . . if my child. . . MY CHILD wasn’t here, I would attack you with my bare hands! Where’s my phone. . . I need. . . there it is. Oh you are done for now. I’m calling the police! I suggest you RUN!!!” “Look lady I didn’t. . .” “Save it! You are going to H-E-L-L! I hope you know that. Where is my daughter? Sweetie stay away; it’s okay, the police are on their way.” At that, I decided to leave—quickly. How did this all happen? I thought. Racking my brain, I decided the best...
On October 3, 1952, Andrew Lobotham was born into a world brimming with excitement. A world that simultaneously knew it had begun its next chapter, but could not decipher how the story would unfold. The war, one older generations didn’t expect to happen and younger ones were expected to die in, ended seven years ago. New York City, where Andrew was born and where his parents lived, teemed with life. The postwar exuberance filled most everyone. Jobs were plentiful, products were becoming easier to acquire, and opportunities that never existed...
Bill Cutley, or as his friends called him, Dick, was just beginning to light his evening cigarette. Success doesn’t come without having a few vices. Mr. Cutley had more than a few, but when you’re in as successful as Mr. Cutley, people tend to replicate your habits rather than critique them. This was fine for Mr. Cutley. In earnest, he didn’t have time to conflate the egos of his employees or haggle with their representation. Movie making was his business, and focusing on anything other than the bottom line costs men like Mr. Cutley their jo...
Weekly Contest #80
He awoke in a cold sweat. Each night seems to be broken into periods of sleep and contemplation. He thought age diminished memory; yet, night after night was riddled with the sirens. Friends, books, television all seemed to go with the turmoil of countless years full of hard labor, but that day will stay him until his final breath. This night, Vasili stubbornly thought he could just return to the hard pillow he called his home, but his mind had other intentions. He swam in the pool of recollection, constantly fighting the riptide of Octo...
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