reedsymarketplace
Assemble a team of professionals
reedsystudio
The writing app for authors
reedsylearning
Writing courses, events and memberships
reedsydiscovery
Get your book reviewed
reedsyprompts
Weekly writing prompts and contests
Writing courses, events and conferences
Upcoming events
The Bigger Picture: Writing with a Series in Mind
April 13, 2026
Book Proposals, Demystified
April 07, 2026
From Submission to Publication
March 19, 2026
Writing Beyond Your "Brand"
March 16, 2026
Learn how to succeed as a writer from the best in the business.
Every writer needs a Studio
Check out our writing app for authors!
Menu
More apps built by Reedsy
Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2021
I looked at my watch, then at the cadaver reclining motionlessly on the old-fashioned flower printed sofa, his colours fading away from his spotted skin. His jaw was hanging wide open, his wrinkly old man muscles hanging loosely on his skeleton. The newspaper was slipping off his lap, his coffee half-drank and turning cold: 59 killed in plane crash near Roswell Daville. Perhaps I was too early. The soul had already gone. To where? I didn’t know, that was a question for a Life. I pointed at the body with my scythe and with a sw...
Weekly Contest #99
There’s too many things and nothing to think about, there’s too many books and no books to read, there’s too many muscles and no muscles to move. And there’s Ma, outside the room, screaming, snapping, growling, trying to drag me out from my room but I tell her I will finish my breakfast after I’m done studying, though the truth is I can’t finish anything. Brain on a grill, that’s what I’m feeling, brain on a grill, melting, melting, melting,I rub my temples, flipping through the pages, my eyes burning from exhaustion, words and pictures danc...
Weekly Contest #97
TW: suicide, suicidal ideation I pushed Ginny out the window. It was a quick death, her neck snapped the moment she plummeted onto the hard concrete floor of the orphanage, her broken body adorning the soft glow of the moonlight. I was the next one to go, propping my leg on the wooden ledge and pulling my torso into the frame, the frost in the wind kissing my cheeks as I lifted my head to look at the stars, blinking, enjoying the last bit of beauty none of us were allowed to touch. I shuddered when the door flung open, pushing m...
Weekly Contest #95
It was the 6th of July 1859, he could recall vividly, the day when he met Michael, a man whose moustache twirls with an unyielding confidence he had never seen before, his slender figure wrapped in a tight tuxedo. With Michael, he would not be ordered to deliver letters, although he was allowed to bring along his postman hat when the manager sold him. Everyday, he would wait for orders, bristing in the hallway with his chubby, metallic body glistening, but none would come. However, when it did, Michael would correct him, and tell h...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: