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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2022
Submitted to Contest #221
His house was so quiet. Strange, he thought. At this time, not long after the crack of dawn, his younger children would be running around and giving the attendants a heart attack as he would be swarmed by a couple assistants with messages of importance. There would be breakfast coming up from the kitchen and through his bedroom doors, provided that the children didn't accidentally knock it over again. Even his wife would join in the fray, yelling at the boys to knock off the horseplay while keeping an ear on the daily hustle.Today, though, t...
Submitted to Contest #219
SHHHHHHHH! ...I think someone's listening. Who, you ask? Wait, you ask, how did I know that you would ask? Are you obvious, or am I a mind reader? No, my friend, it is neither. And both. Now, that sounds confusing, but bear with me. I might seem like a character in this short story, and you would be right. But you could also see me as a person, and you would be right again. As for me, I am not really supposed to know that you are there, reading every word that I say or think or even imply with every action or inaction on my par...
Submitted to Contest #215
"Trender's Orphanage. If you aren't familiar with it, that's because it is basically wiped from the media. Hard as they could, though, those fools could not wipe away the blood...or tears." The six-foot-seven-inch lady looked down upon the white-haired boy, a metal staff as his only protection held in his lap. She conceded to his intrepidness, and so kept her custom goalie stick-styled blade down. She also appreciated him not staring at her scars around her mouth, usually covered with a surgeon's mask but for today; she wanted to be un...
Author's note: All ideologies are welcome to enjoy this fictional work. You ever heard the joke about the atheist who made a deal with the Devil? Let's just say he had a hell of a time. All kidding aside, I fear retaliation for telling this story, but I need to warn you all to stay away from the crossroads at the U.S Routes 61 and 49. Yes, in Mississippi. Yes, the same place where Robert Johnson got famous. My name is Trevor Johnson. I happen to be a descendant of that famous musician, more on my mother's side, but please do not ask ...
Submitted to Contest #214
Author's note: These characters are from another series of stories that I am working on; hopefully, the context won't lead to too much confusion. Also, a fair warning of sexual violence as well as regular (and irregular) violence. Birth. Childhood. Life itself. All of these, and what was to follow, were struggles for any normal human being. Atrición envied those normal human beings. For starters, their parents weren't trying to kill him under the semblance of training. That is, when they weren't arguing, killing people, or bangin...
Author's note: I am utilizing the word "vacation" as more of a metaphor in this story, albeit one that involves bonds. "An automaton, Tholan! Imagine, an actual walking artifact of the last war of the world!" "Yes, Merchen, it's all amazing, but automatons are walking weapons! We need to assess this anomaly, and we either subdue or destroy it." "Destroy-ah!" Merchen caught himself before he heavily joined the dirt with a root that nearly tripped him. "Destroy an artifact? One that had soldiers quake with fear? We should report...
Submitted to Contest #213
What did the mines have, if anything? Where did the ores go? Were there still ultrantulas roaming about that place? Thoughts like this had put Tholan back on the path to answer questions that the community reechoed. Today, it was literal; he was granted leave by Garrold to check the mines, maybe see if there was anything to salvage there for the people. He made sure that Lindia was comfortable before going; she had been a bit more sporadic, especially when she transformed at night uncontrollably, but he attributed such to stress from t...
Submitted to Contest #212
Author's note: This story contains injuries, traumatic events, and mental insanity.10/14/1911Dear Jon Cannington,How are you? This is Jacques Leroux, from Bordeaux in France. It has been a long time since we played as children, and I reminisce of our good times. Granted, you did have a hard life in that desert, along with your father and mother conducting their "business", but I prayed that your life has gotten better now that you are an adult. There is so much to share with you, ever since my family moved back to France before we could cele...
Submitted to Contest #211
June 13th, 2041MODERN-AGE DOCTOR FRANKENSTEINWARNING! THIS PERSON IS STILL AT LARGE! IF APPROACHED BY SOMEONE CLAIMING TO BE A DOCTOR, LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AND NOTIFY AUTHORITIES! DO NOT ENGAGE! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPREHEND BY YOURSELF! HE IS WANTED FOR BLACKMAIL, COERCION, EXTORTION, AND SUSPICION OF MURDER!Harrold Lars Bonman, writer of Lazarus InsightThat was my article from five months ago. It was the most eye-catching headline upon the front page of the newspaper, certainly grabbing my attention while I lay strapped to a gurney in the upper...
He peeked around the corners of his bed. No one. He peeked around the corners of the closet. No one. He peeked around the entire room before peeking outside the door. No one. Where was Kit? Rilestone was a bit worried. He had sworn to his dad that he would not let Kit out of his sight, specifically anywhere around the house. They kept a regulated pen next to them, opposite of the greenhouse, where all manner of fowl from chickens and geese to ducks and even a couple pheasants wandered about, eating and laying eggs. That was th...
Construction took some urging but, given the curiosity spreading to the people, they pitched in however they could. Husbands and fathers gathered wood from the trees, creating the walls and the roof of the shack. Wives and mothers, including Lindia, gathered what they could for pitch as to keep the inside relatively warm. Children brought both sides food and water. Two days, and the shack itself was completed, with one door facing the woods and another facing the wall (a rope ladder was hung over the side nearby, just in case). Tholan, ...
Submitted to Contest #208
Rilestone Jian Silver had just woken up, shaking off the strange dreams of visions from his waking moments merged with images yet to be explored, but he has not gone to such places or times just yet. He blinked several times, tilting his head left and right as if a peculiar sound had caught his attention. He shook his head, stood up...and tilted his head again. His eyes, gifts from his father that could pierce the veils of illusions even by Fallen Angels, shifted in all directions as he searched for that peculiar sound. His ears, gifts f...
Amongst Tholan's friends, Trentil was the most excited for a "last hunt", albeit the most nervous. He actually came over to Tholan's home and, after knocking until Tholan answered in mild miffiness, Trentil invited him with a few other males for a personal hunt:"Tholan, friend, how are you?"Tholan inhaled, allowing the miffiness to dissipate. "Good.""Nice, nice, is Lindia home?""She is assisting Garrold; they're brainstorming for future festivities."Trentil clapped his hands. "Goody-good! In fact, Garrold had granted my request, a last hunt ...
Submitted to Contest #207
Another day of cameras, lightings, and sounds. Another crowd gathered, watching and waiting to see what happens next. No, this is not a major news development. This was just a filming for some new live-action series that would garner attention for a short time; and now, any minute, the director would yell... "Cut!" I had to wait a few more minutes, as the personnel started migrating from this set to the outside world, going for refreshments or a good cigarette. My person of interest, however, was with the director. He was to relay a mess...
Author's note: This is the first half of the full story, as it would exceed the maximum word count. It is a unique and perplexing privilege for a journalist like me to put my life on the line, whether it is interviewing a serial killer in his own cell, a former member of a crime syndicate in his own house, or even a politician that might be marked for death...or marking me for my death, as I do tend to pry. Hey, I'm a journalist; the worst is that I die. But I prefer to die quickly, as opposed to something like poison or lynching. And...
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