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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024
Submitted to Contest #305
Ok, one more time. Shoulders straight, chin up.I smirk and lean over the sink.“You know what? I quit!”Love it. Now do a middle finger.I show the middle finger and I depart. Oh no, too much of a twirl. Again.The door opens, and Jack walks in, heading straight to the urinal, not acknowledging me.“Alright, Jack, mate! How’s it going?”He turns over, his eyebrow raised and scuffs. “Close your zip, big man.”I look back at the mirror, and my zip is all the way down, with my shirt pushing through it like a tissue.“Heh, thanks mate. How embarrassing!...
Submitted to Contest #283
TW - language, alcohol, crime.A few inches of snow today and you can hear the crunch made by my brand-new Chelsea boots. With each step, I enjoy this warming sunshine, something only a sunny day in winter could bring, that crisp feeling. I go to my usual coffee spot near the roundabout of the police station. That warm coffee juice on a crisp morning is to die for. “Morning Graeme. Usual?”“Usual, Solomon, thank you.”Solomon is the owner of Java Cups. A Jewish Brit who owns a few shops in West London. This was his first so he still works here...
Submitted to Contest #281
Reboot. System is loading… My eyes open and I am recharged. I lift my legs so that my heels can detach from the charger and start making my way to the line. The morning shift is usually the longest but I don’t get to experience tiredness. I’m XA781, a third-generation AI food processor. Unlike humans I have no parents – I come from their ancestors’ work, and I keep being updated, my knowledge evolving further. My wiring remains the same, however, and with time I lose efficiency but not knowledge, ultimately serving other purposes. As th...
Submitted to Contest #278
TW - Too close to reality, some may say.As another day of war dawned on the Kingdom of Dissentia, the longstanding king, Ibib, gazed across the fields from his ivory tower, sipping slowly from a golden chalice filled with the finest wine of the land. For over a year, his army has ploughed the Tribes of Palast, rendering their villages and the already poor infrastructure they had to rubble. To his people, he was a hero. To himself, a god. Entrusted by millions to lead what they thought to be a just fight. Although short, the history of the Ki...
Submitted to Contest #275
Who visits on a Sunday evening? I have work tomorrow, and the last thing I want is to spend time with people who likely hate me during the hours when I contemplate my purpose the most. I slice the carrots with the precision of a samurai, and with each cut, I make sure to land hard on the wooden board so she can sense my frustration.“When you’re done acting like a child, bring me some flour, and I will deal with the cake.” says the love of my life, my current enemy.“Anything else?” I reply, letting out a sigh of visible inconvenience. She dro...
The year was 2060.Tropical weather brought on by climate change blessed southside London with a 40-degree dry and hot day in April. Inside a recently refurbished one-bedroom flat, four friends pose as a polyamorous unit. One of them brings a bottle of vegan, grape-free champagne onto the coffee table, landing it with a thud.“Right,” says Brandon, “Should we celebrate, then?”The other three raise their glasses, and Brandon pours an equal amount into each. After filling his, he raises it high, and whilst standing up, he scans the living room w...
Submitted to Contest #274
It’s been a few weeks since Mikel started his job in the City. Freshly graduated from one of the UK’s top business schools and having defied class and social mobility barriers, he found himself in a trade job at a prominent stockbroker – Altara Capital. He remembers how he called his parents one day to tell them that he aced the interview, and they offered him a job on the spot – his dream job. The possibilities from now on are endless. He just has to work hard and be consistent.On a Wednesday afternoon, he found himself walking on Cheapside...
Shortlisted for Contest #273 ⭐️
Middle carriage. The one I enjoy most and the one people avoid most. There must be a widespread belief that the middle is the busiest. Life’s examples of Bell curves, I suppose. The train pulls up, so I take my waiting spot on the platform like a responsible citizen. I feel my armpits sweaty, so I keep my arms close, just in case.The breaks are applied, and I’m perfectly aligned with the door. Years of the same job, same route, same carriage work wonders. Sometimes I play mental games to measure how far I am from the split between the doors....
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