Menu

More apps built by Reedsy

Assemble a team of professionals

The writing app for authors

Writing courses, events and memberships

Get your book reviewed

Weekly writing prompts and contests

Menu
Prompts
Contests
Stories
Blog

Tara Domino

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025

Stories
Comments
Library
7 Followers
2 Following

17 Stories

250 karma pts

?

Time Waits for Gnoman

Weekly Contest #307

Tuesday started with a fog. A fog so dense and thick it seemed to trundle about the gnome village moodily, stomping over the gardens and pushing its way through the streets. Graham stood on his doorstep, looked between his watch and the fog, grumbled, then set off down his garden path. Gnomes are fastidious, finicky, things, prone to having large, fiery tempers disproportionate to their small, four-inch stature. But they’re nothing if not punctual. Graham went every Tuesday at seven thirty, and today, fog or no fog, it was Tuesday. He wasn’...

1 like 0 comments 0
Read story

The Hut

‘You know what? I quit!’The nurse stormed past me just as I arrived, not even bothering to shut the old wooden door behind her, almost knocking the heavy dish out of my hands.Oh dear. What’s she done now?I tried to stop her, calling after her before she reached the gate, ‘But Mable, you only started Monday!’The nurse turned on her heels, advancing back down the path towards me. ‘That woman is out of her mind!’ she cried, waving her arms, ‘She’s unhinged, she’s impossible, she’s just plain crazy!’‘My grandma?’‘Yes. Your grandma!’ I took a pro...

0 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

The Workshop

Weekly Contest #304

This story starts with an awkward pause. A beat of silence, a breath, balled up and held in the cheeks with nowhere else to go but out, in a puff of crushing inevitability. Bernie sorely wished she never took up this post. Goblins this side of town can’t write, they have no vision, that’s their problem. South of the Marsh goblins are good for building, stonework, masonry at a push. Creative writing? No. She could not teach these goblins; they were unteachable. You can’t teach creativity. Yet here she was, in a neat circle of little wooden ...

2 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

The Very Holy Hat

Weekly Contest #302

As soon as his feet touched the ground, he knew he was back. It felt familiar, the earth between his toes, the sun warming his back. Yes, this is it. This is the world he made. There are the trees reaching for the heavens, just how he left them, taller now, obviously. There is the sky, vast and limitless, stretching sideways as far as the eye can see. There is the sound of the wind, as gentle as breath, just as he remembered it. There is the scent of the earth, the flowers, the hot ground, natures perfume. Magic! There is the crumpled form o...

5 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

The Horticulturalist

Weekly Contest #300

As dawn breaks groggily over Mildred’s small shop, she stumbles down the rickety staircase, grabbing the stone wall and staring around blearily. She blinks, pushes a long, wispy lock of grey hair out of her face, and adjusts her hat. She is looking for a guilty party. The shop is still, and just how she left it. The old, clunky till, the long, wooden counter, the heavy brass bell above the door. The scattered tables and stands and shelves crammed to bursting with plants of every breed, every size, every shade of green and yellow and red, eve...

8 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

The Cheat

Weekly Contest #299

‘Oh, good. You’re here. Come in, come in, sit down.’Oh dear. This can’t be good.Brian takes a tentative step forward, and then another, and finally, gingerly, sits down in the empty chair in front of the desk. This can’t be good at all. Brian wishes he can say this is the first time he has been called in to speak to the man behind the desk. In fact, he wishes he could say he had never been in this office, never shown up in the foyer down the hall with a book in his hand, never found himself standing in front of the reception desk where sits ...

7 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

You Can't Park There

Weekly Contest #298

Cynthia hears him before she sees him, his clompy old boots unmistakable, stomping angrily up the garden path. She had been lost in thought, hands deep in warm, bubbly, lemon-scented washing up, thinking about making some kind of crumble for dessert tonight. A bit luxurious just for the two of them but she has apples that want using and after all, why shouldn’t they have a nice treat every now and then? The door bangs open, shaking the little curtain she had sewn by hand to fit perfectly over the windowpane.‘Unbelievable!’ Harold booms, stor...

10 likes 3 comments 3
Read story

Birthday Kiss

It was Aunt Maggie that made him do it. If Aunt Maggie didn’t come over that Saturday, if it wasn’t his thirteenth birthday, if she wasn’t a big kisser, none of this would have happened. But as it happened, she did come over. It was his birthday. And she was, without a doubt, a big, wet, face kisser. ‘Ooh I bet you can’t wait for Aunt Maggie to get here,’ his brother teased that morning. ‘Are you looking forward to a nice big, birthday smooch?’James cringed at the thought. Aunt Maggie’s breath smelt like old cigarettes and ancient, minty gu...

1 like 2 comments 2
Read story

The Tuxedo

Weekly Contest #294

Dear Mr Miles,It has come to my attention that there is a cat in the building. I have seen it twice now, once on the front path and once in the hallway. Is it yours?Kindly,Joseph Grey, President of the Residents Association.Hi Joe.I was under the impression cats are not allowed in the building. Have you tried Clara at number three?Cam Miles.Dear Miss Lecky,It has come to my attention there is a cat in the building. Does it belong to you?Kindly,Joseph Grey, President of the Residents AssociationMr President,Please call me Clara. Cats are very...

5 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

Scandal On The 8:15

Marjorie checks her bag, then checks it again. She moves aside the sandwiches, the cheese and crackers, the bag of grapes (green, seedless, obviously), she looks under the Tupperware of cut carrots, the tub of hummus. The flask of coffee (milk, no sugar, they are not animals).  It’s not there.  Marjorie sits back in her seat and looks out of the window. The world is flying past at speed as the train hurtles through the suburbs, trees blurring together into one long, fuzzy shape (is that the speed? Or is it because she’s forgotten h...

1 like 2 comments 2
Read story

The Painter

Weekly Contest #292

‘So, can you? Can you do it?’ The young girl stands on my doorstep, I squint at her through the crack in my door. She twists a lacy handkerchief in her thin hands and stares at me beseechingly, her watery eyes shiny and quivering. Christ. She’s actually doing puppy dog eyes.   ‘It’s just, I had heard...’ she continues, barely audible, voice quaking. ‘You had heard?’ I demand, my voice coming out crackly and old. It startles her, the poor, sweet thing.  ‘Yes, I... well I had heard from a dear friend that you might... ...

9 likes 6 comments 6
Read story

Group Therapy

Weekly Contest #291

There’s one of those old-fashioned filter coffee machines in the corner of the room. It sits on a trestle table with a set of paper cups and a plate of biscuits. A drip of condensation snakes its way down the inside of the glass jug, which catches the light from the florescent strip lighting in the ceiling. I’m staring around the room trying to get my bearings, I must have nodded off, I’ve been doing that lately. Comes with getting on a bit I suppose.  We’re sitting in a circle, this group and I, on orange plastic chairs. There’s a lady...

10 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

The Bright Blue One

Weekly Contest #289

The room was unfamiliar, I don’t know how I got here.  I mean, I know how I got here, a standard mode of teleportation, in which my every molecule was compressed and pushed through space in quite a brash manner and thrown together at the other end. I hope it was my every molecule, anyway. I would hate to have left anything behind. No, I mean I don’t know how I got here. As in, how did a lowly conservationist and Earth enthusiast go from being in a very civilised conference aboard the Command Ship discussing the future of this ...

8 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

Tea For One

Weekly Contest #287

I know exactly what we’re about to talk about and I don't want to have this conversation. I feel his eyes on me as I stand at the counter, my back to him, waiting for the water to rumble to a boil, the kettle to flick off, the hot water to splash onto the teabag, seep into the leaves, turn everything a deep red-brown. I think about making him a cup but I know he wouldn’t drink it. I know what we’re about to talk about. He knows what we’re about to talk about. At least he’s nice enough to let me make a tea first before he hounds me. We m...

5 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

Letting Go

Weekly Contest #286

I'm speeding through the garden, my wings buzzing furiously, my antenna cutting through the air ahead like swords. I’d have tears streaming down my face if flies could cry. They can't, but the sentiment is still there. I clear the neighbour's fence, almost get taken out by some sheer stockings flapping on a washing line, tumble my way through the leaves of a lemon tree and almost collide with a honeybee going about his work. ‘Oi! Watch where you’re going!’ he shouts after me. ‘Bloody house flies.’ Some call me dramatic, and by...

6 likes 0 comments 0
Read story