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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2021
Submitted to Contest #326
Letter to Shirley Jackson, author of “The Lottery” July 23, 1948 Dear Shirley Jackson, Are you the lady that wrote that story? The Lottery it is called. I saw it in a magazeen on a park bench in New York City. Says on the magazeen it is The New Yorker of June 26. The story has your name on it. Shirley Jackson. I done read it twice. The whole thing. I have it in my rup sack right now. What I like about it is the random killing. Just picking a number and if its your number its rock rock rock out go the lights. People pick up rocks and thr...
Submitted to Contest #268
Blue Boy Nathan’s mother looked up from the phone bill she was trying to decipher when he rushed down the stairs from his room, headed for the front door. It was early on a Monday morning, mid-summer, sky a pale aqua, empty of clouds. “Where you going so early?” his mother asked. “Bike ride,” he replied without looking at her. “Where to?” she said. “Just around, nowhere.” He wore the same jean cutoffs and black t-shirt he’d worn every day for several weeks. Ever since the divorce became final and his fath...
Submitted to Contest #233
Dry January The idea of a dry January came when Ray spilled his beer at a bar and started to cry. He dropped his head. Not again. What the hell? Jesus man, what’s with all the crying? He would tear up at the drop of a hat. A leaf could fall from a branch and he would break down. A mother and child putting milk in a grocery cart could make him sob by the cottage cheese. In short, he had lost total control of his emotions. Ever since the incident. After numerous tests he was diagnosed as having PBA - Pseudobulb...
Submitted to Contest #186
Dead Man Dialogue “Okayyy, it’s obvious something’s bugging you. What is it this time, let’s get it out.” “I don’t know what to say.” “Well figure it out. I’m not gonna guess.” “I don’t know who you are, Teddy.” “Here we go. Let me apologize yet again, Kate, for not being able to read your mind.” “Something has happened. You have something bad you’re hiding.” “What? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about – as usual! I hate it when you start off a conversation in the middle and expect me to catch up!” “I’m talking about this...
Submitted to Contest #165
The Twins “Jimmy . . . Jimmy! Wake up! Wake up, Jim. C’mon, I need to talk to you. Hellooo, Jimbo! Can ya hear me?” Jack waited and heard nothing. Jimmy was his younger brother, born 58 seconds after Jack. Identical twins, now 22 years old. &nbs...
Submitted to Contest #105
The Reckoning I was told in high school by my English teacher, Mrs. Eliason, that writing helps you think. Helps clarify things in your mind. Especially during hard times. Jus...
Shortlisted for Contest #102 ⭐️
Sorrow is like snow.Cold molecules that fall from the sky.And flow into your soul. Then slowly melt and dissipate,Only to return and chill you again. And again. From Canada,A cold front had migrated south,Leaving the earth under a soft quilt of snow. It was the edge of seasons,Near the end of winter.Around two on a Sunday afternoon.The sun had warmed the land and the pavement was dry,But it was still icy in the shadows and you had to keep an eye out.I was on a two-lane road, a winding route mostly empty of travelers this time of ye...
Winner of Contest #99 🏆
The Men And The Lake We could talk about the storm. We could talk about the wind and waves. We could talk about the boat. We could talk about the life jackets. We could talk about the men and the lake. We could talk about why they went so far out from shore. We could talk about the beer and whisky. We could talk about how they ended up in the water. We cou...
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