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Tanya Humphreys

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021

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117 Stories

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Good Daughters

Weekly Contest #309

I stared at Nick’s hands as they deftly wielded the thin silver instrument around the lemon, effectively slicing off a perfect curly-q of bright yellow peel. The movement of his hands and the delicacy of the peel bore stark contrast to the thick, long fingers punctuated with knobby, bony knuckles. It was like watching a mob thug conducting an orchestra. I glanced into his eyes, which were half obscured in shadow, and stifled a giggle. His ruggedly handsome face was contorted into the face of a young boy’s; his eyes sparkled with intense co...

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Rollin' with the Gnomies

Weekly Contest #308

Barnacle Winterbottom scratched his red-bearded chin as he and the cat sat amongst the dense summer leaves of the oak. ‘Scritch, scritch…’ His thick red brows a fat caterpillar low over hooded blue eyes. “Lightfoot my friend, we’ve got work to do.” The big striped tabby was lighter in color than Barny’s beard and thrice as large as the gnome. Lightfoot's pale green eyes were locked on the dog. “Don’t worry my friend, we’ll be rid of the dog in no time,” Lightfoot’s ear twitched, the cat’s white whiskers splayed forward as if tasting the dog’...

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Cannibal...Creature

Weekly Contest #307

The small skiff was crowded with the last seven survivors aboard---crew members of the infamous galleon, the Catherine’s Blood. We’d been at sea for sixty-nine days, according to Eli Upwind, the ship’s navigator, who read the skies day and night and had a head for numbers. Captain Avila nodded at Upwind’s latest decree, the nod went on until the captain’s unkempt, greying beard settled upon his chest. He appeared dead. Spiney and Jewels stole a wicked glance at each other, and I swear when Spiney skirted his mutant grey slug-of-a-tongue a...

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Lightning Fox

Weekly Contest #304

Lightning flashed so brightly out the window next to the desk, Max was nearly convinced the next bolt would come straight through it. And he almost welcomed it. He’d been sitting at his desk for over two hours staring at the blank page in his Underwood typewriter…and failing miserably to come up with a single string of words to start the short story he was hired to compose; the deadline loomed around the corner. He positioned his thin white fingers upon the black keys and once again the lightning flashed next to him out the window, making...

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Desert Gravesite

Weekly Contest #303

Tony scuttled around the boulder, desperate for the shade on the eastern side. He breathed a lungful of hot desert air that he convinced himself was slightly cooler than the air on the western side. He slumped against the rock and scooched under it like a scorpion with its tail curled around its delicately armored body.He heard the shouts of the man pursuing him, far, then closer. As his heartbeat slowed from a bass drum beat to a tom-tom, he heard what he was saying, “It was you who dunnit, it was you Tony…it was YOU!” The words were spoken...

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The Amulet

Weekly Contest #302

Birds of magnificent wingspan, figure-eighted gracefully---black pirouetters in the slate grey sky. The small boy in peasants’ grubby clothes kenned their presence like reading a map. He made his way down the hill to the bloody mesa, and the bodies were fresh. He wiped grime and sweat from his pale freckled face absentmindedly with his course-spun sleeve. It was a habit he’d done since he was a wee bairn when his parents had been alive; one developed nervous habits, when living in a war zone. *** Seven hours earlier… Rhys Hughes swung his...

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The Familiars

Weekly Contest #301

Reverend Fagmire looked out over the congregation, none of his sheep dared look into his wolfish eyes. If they had, they’d see them glowing red like dying embers, deep under the hood of his dark brow. He smiled…and the mourning dove in the middle stained-glass window dropped to the floor unnoticed by all but one. “Holy tidings friends!” the reverend bellowed over the heads of his congregation…a congregation of grim faced, sickly-looking people “We have a newwwww---” His booming voice trailed away along with his jackal’s grin. The people aw...

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The Dogs of Hell

Weekly Contest #300

TW: Contains themes of death, violence, and suicide.Garrison Ermine Ford stepped out of the mirror. He ran his hands down the lapels of his silver sharkskin suit and slicked back his vampiric dark hair as he turned around to check himself out.Black crocodile boots with pointed silver tips, razor-sharp creases in his slacks, navy blue cuffs peeked from the suit sleeves, dagger pointed collar, top two buttons undone beneath the vest.“Nineteen-seventy-five. A very good year,” he said aloud. Then he turned and surveyed the living room of his sui...

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The Pirate and the Leprechaun

Weekly Contest #299

Bruce McMurty first saw the leprechaun at age six but told no one about him. It had a long red beard and a fedora with a jaunty red feather in the band. He knew the little creature was magical, there were no birds in all of Ireland that wore feathers that bright shade. At nine he’d become very adept with his crossbow and snaring, and with his father ailing he’d become the meal catcher for the family. He had never forgotten about the leprechaun and may have sworn seeing him- just from the corners of his eyes, a small shadow whisked away behi...

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Dog Instincts

Weekly Contest #294

As a dog my instincts were always spot on. I knew when a rat approaching my food bowl suddenly feels danger. In the form of me pouncing and eating its head. You see, the bowl was always empty. And I was always starving. And chained. Killing the rats was my job. And my only means of sustenance. The leaking tap where the garden hose connected to the tap provided a puddle of mostly fresh water. I am a breed called a Heinz 57. And I’ve been chained to this post…in this yard…since I was a young pup. I’d heard in the shelter that Hoomans...

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Jeopardy

Weekly Contest #284

“C’mon Hon, show’s about to start.” Milton knew his wife hated missing a second of Jeopardy, she enjoyed the opening spiels, she rooted for the contestant she related to the best. Given the choice between a local from Pensacola or a black woman from Alaska, she’d choose the black woman every time.Milton’s own cousin had been on the game show eight years past and did Velma root for him? No. She cheered for the elderly black woman in the floral mu mu.He had said, “Really Vel? Have you ever seen a parade float win?”Velma had scowled and growled...

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The Bermuda Triangle of California

Weekly Contest #276

The Grapevine is the Bermuda Triangle of California. My memory of that expanse of Highway 5 is desolation, dust and depression. Current crazy-ass boyfriend Simon and I were about to experience this marvel of soul-sucking spirits firsthand. We had been celebrating Simon’s 24th birthday in the coffee shop I worked at by day, Ground Zero. The café was closed, and the turnout was sad: just his sister and best friend, my best friend and her tweaky little brother. We drank chilled Stoli, fortified with cigarettes and methamphetamine. Best friend F...

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Friends for Life

Weekly Contest #273

It was full dark now, but Simon didn’t want to go home. She might still be up. He got off his bike at the cemetery gates, left it propped on the old wooden fence. The low gate screeched its displeasure like an old gargoyle disturbed from its sleep. He winced involuntarily and put his hands over his mouth then winced again, the sharp pain of his bloody lip ignited fresh memories of earlier that evening when she’d thrown her half-empty Budweiser bottle at his face. He’d told her he was glad his father had left because she’d deserved it. ...

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Lucio, a Musketeer

Weekly Contest #271

The tall dark man’s boots clocked a merry rhythm as he strode with purpose towards the town square where the harpsichord’s high wavering notes had begun wafting through the sweltering heat of late afternoon just a few seconds before. The beats from the zambomba kicked in and a smile curled the handsome man’s lips. It was an upbeat tune, and he pictured Lola’s lovely ankles flashing daringly from the twirling cascades of her flamenco dress as her castanets clacked out punctuation marks as if her hands were magical brown birds clapping wooden ...

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Pit of Adversity

Weekly Contest #263

Because of my diminutive size I had grown up scrappier and fiercer than the other males of my pack…except for one. Jeb was the alpha. And he was huge compared to me, with thick lustrous grey fur tinged with an abundance of black that shone in the sunlight like motor oil. Being the alpha coyote, Jeb feasted on the primo parts of a kill- brains and soft organs- that made his body healthily massive and slabbed with muscle. Jeb was big. But my thin, smaller body made me faster. Running was my thing, it had become my job to scout ahead of the pac...

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