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Victor Amoroso

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2025

Stories (49)

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131 Followers

241 Following

49 Stories

1288 karma pts

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Contest of Quills VI, Return of the Author

Submitted to Contest #336

Annabeth stumbled through the door to their home, a slimy sense of ick exiting her pores with each step. It had been a horrible evening, one that she couldn’t just blame on others. She had her hand in it. But her own bed waited, and then a shower to wash as much of last night away. She walked past the office, and took a step back to the doorway. Daniel sat in the chair, facing the door. His eyes were red, and he looked like he aged ten years from last night, and the defeat. He rubbed his chin, and wetted his lips. “Annabeth.” “Daniel. Did yo...

1 like

Contest of Quills Redux, or Christof Strikes Back

Submitted to Contest #335

Annabeth pulled the letter out of the stack of junk mail that filled Daniel’s mailbox. The letter bore the mark of Vicount Publishing, and was thin. What could it be? It was addressed to Daniel, but she supposed as his fiance she could open it. She did so, and immediately her stomach dropped. “To whom it may concern. The Board has determined that your services are no longer required. Since you drew a salary, and not royalties from the books you ghostwrote for Christof, you will be no longer receiving funds from this publishing house. Thank y...

4 likes

Godfrey and the Dragon

Submitted to Contest #334

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Their breath clouded the air, the ground crackled as they walked towards the cave. Sir Jonah crouched low, and motioned for the others to do as well. No telling what lay in wait for them. No telling at all.“Father, do you have the torch ready?” Sir Jonah hissed back at the priest.The priest fumbled in his sack, first pulling out the counting device that Pope Sylvester commanded him to take along to give to the Bishop of Samiarland. The priest cursed under his breath, and then...

13 likes

Puppychow

Submitted to Contest #333

Ruth Morgan pushed the used brown paper grocery sack in the trash, forcing it down to make as much room as possible. She would need it. She hummed a few bars along with the Trans Siberian Orchestra that floated through the house. Light shown in through the large bay window opposite the kitchen, next to the sparkling tree that glistened and twinkled with joy. At low volume, the TV played a documentary about Christmas tree farms, while Jack napped in the barcalounger, Jasmine curled up on his chest. He had gotten up early to snow blow the driv...

20 likes

A Snowy Enterprise

Submitted to Contest #332

CW: Substance abuse, physical violence“He’s dead Jim.” That much was obvious. But it wasn’t Detective James Roykirk’s job to determine that the man was dead. No, the coroner would make it official. It was, though, his job to find out how, and why, and who did it. Among Bozeman’s finest, he and his partner, Detective Leo “Fingers” MacCoy, they were considered the best. “I can see that Fingers, but considering the circumstances and the scene, I’d also say we got our work cut out for us. For starters, how did he get here?” Here was Stony Mill C...

14 likes

Fighting in a Winter Wonderland

Submitted to Contest #331

Snow poured out of the darkening sky, covering the branches of the pine trees that lined Paul Mullen’s backyard. His floodlights illuminated the fenced in area, where Sam ran in circles, grabbing snow flakes with her tongue. The rottweiler pittie mix served over there with him, and all those years in Afghanistan left some scars on both of them. Now, it warmed his heart to watch those horrors forgotten, at least for a moment, while she goofily snatched white powder falling from the heavens. Paul raised a cup of cocoa to his lips, steam tickli...

24 likes

Prince Chadwyck

Submitted to Contest #330

Prince Chadwyck Metmornos Viriili sat in his own muck, straw, and sick, trying to remember his old life. He waved at it in his mind, watching it pass him by. He knew that he wouldn’t leave his cell alive, but for the first time since he got there, he didn’t care. His nose still hurt from where his jailers had kicked him, breaking it. His face was smeared with the blood from the injury, and dirt from his ratty bedding. He thought he must look even worse than the peasants who toiled outside his castle. Well, her castle now. Chadwyck held his f...

6 likes

The Night Raid

Submitted to Contest #329

Private Willie Smaull pressed himself against the dirt wall of the trench. That shelter, combined with his helmet, meant that he was only mostly soaked by the downpour, the third this week, that made his and almost every other man here’s life miserable. That didn’t go for the Captain, who was peering through the periscope to the German lines yonder. Willie had been in this trench four times since getting to France, and not once had he laid eyes on no man’s land, much less the enemy fortifications, or even a Boche. A one armed Frenchie had to...

13 likes

A Walk Along the Lake Shore

Submitted to Contest #328

R.I.P. Andy... Waves lapped on the sandy shore, a warm breeze caressing the skin of the man sitting along side it, his feet touched by the very tip of each wave. A sea bird screeched, its wings flapping keeping it aloft. A fish leaped out of the water, reaching for an insect. He stared at his hands, the tendons moving under his skin as he waggled his fingers. He looked up at the bird, watching it glide on the air, when he spotted another person, walking towards him. He craned his neck, and could see footprints stretching back to the horizon....

11 likes

Luke Combs and the Fantastic Journey

Submitted to Contest #327

It was the last nice day of the year, for real this time, as Virginia Crabble waited for her coffee, outside at Pat’s Cafe. It had been her hangout, her center and her confidant since she enrolled at State three years ago. They mixed in the most exquisite flavors in with their beans, especially this time of year, the pumpkin spice was just to die for. The light breeze blew her brownish red curls into her face as the new girl barista emerged baring her warm delicious drink. “Virginia?” “Yes, that's me.” “Oh, I would have thought you would be ...

21 likes

The Doom of Embry

Submitted to Contest #326

CW: Gore, body horror Mrs. Chathamford’s salon was filled with laughter and mirth, the bright rays of sunshine warming Embry’s ladies as they discussed the events of the past week. Daphne Harris, and her sister Araminta had wanted to be invited to this exclusive event ever since they turned fourteen. Now, that they were on the cusp of sixteen and to be introduced at the town’s masque tonight, Mrs. Chathamford invited them so her circle could inspect them. She nodded at Daphne, but spoke little. To her twin, the ladies hemmed and hawed, as Ar...

15 likes

Wrong Girl, Right Cat, Right Time

Submitted to Contest #325

It has been three months since my incident with the mimes, things just wacky since then. And then I met HIM, and what a dream. Right now I am curled up on my Papasan chair scratching Puddles’ ears, while Karl watches from my bed. He’s coming over tonight, just when its starting to get cold. I love this time of year. Leaves changing, sweaters, pumpkin spice. It was warm today, so my windows open. Then, all of a sudden, a wickedly chill breeze scratches across my arms, raising what little hair I have and sending a twitching chill down my spine...

6 likes

A Most Wicked Game

Submitted to Contest #324

CW: Explicit sexual imagery Waves gently folded into the wet sand and flowed between Claire’s toes. Rays from the sun warmed the sky, narrowing her eyelids to keep too much light from her eyes. Spray misted in the air, wetting her face but salty water flowed down her face, not that the ocean noticed. It took more than a few tear drops to roil the Pacific. *** Claire met him on a cold smoky night, a late blast down from the Rockies that pricked up the flesh on her bare legs shivering due to the lack of cloth or hair. She went into Donovan’s, ...

12 likes

To Catch a Fish

Submitted to Contest #323

The sun’s light peaked through the stained glass windows of Saint Neot’s, the twin fishes gleaming brightly. Father Michael Dravin stood for a moment, watching the illumination. That window in particular had grown on him in the last three years he had been here. When he first arrived, he didn’t understand why there was a church named after the patron saint of fish in a city whose closest body of water was thirty miles away. St. Neot’s was small, and an older building with a graying congregation. There was talk about closing the church, but t...

18 likes

Contest of Quills

Submitted to Contest #322

“Have you read him yet? Isn’t it just succulent? Pure honey to the literary world, and the talk of everyone. I heard that he has a spot on Oprah, and Kimmel! Just a tour de force!” Annabeth gushed, her sickly sweet words curdling Daniel’s blood. That didn’t mean that he hasn’t read Christof. He had. This party was supposed to be for him. Daniel paid his dues, put in his blood, his sweat, his tears into his writing. He wrote short stories, ghost wrote, and took every low paying, demeaning job. He had a mountain of rejection letters. His car w...

19 likes