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
Writing a Memoir Readers Will Love
May 17, 2026
How to Write a Winning Short Story
May 05, 2026
The Secret to Writing Memorable Characters
May 04, 2026
Independent vs. Traditional Publishing
April 27, 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 Jan, 2021
Weekly Contest #281
I’ve never been one to play with dolls. Can’t say the same for my little sister Holly, though. She’s just five years old, about to turn six tomorrow, and always has a Barbie tucked under her arm. So of course she’d be thrilled to clean our late Great Grandma Nellie’s attic. It’s practically filled with her collection of vintage, glass-eyed, porcelain dolls. You know. The creepy kind, dressed in Victorian gowns with eyes that seem to follow you, no matter where you are in the room. And me? Well, with Christmas just a few days a...
Weekly Contest #280
“Say something, or I’m going to hang up—”“No, please don’t go. Not yet. Tell me about school, about English class. What book are you reading?”“Dad, just stop. What happened? Why does this always happen? Mom is a wreck, and the boys, they don’t know what to think.”“I know.”“Do you? Because you just left us. Again. You have no idea what you put us through every time this—”“It doesn’t matter. None of that matters anymore.”“Of course it does! We need you.”“No you don’t. You’re better off without me.”“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You’re...
Weekly Contest #277
Perhaps you’ve heard stories of glass slippers, sleeping beauties, and candied cottages. Or maybe you’ve read about wicked witches, frogged lips, and happily ever afters. Whatever the case, I’m sure, quite sure, you know my story. Well, a version of my story. But it wasn’t told in its entirety, of that I am certain. It’s time I tell the truth, now that she’s almost grown up and has a mind of her own. Now that she wants to hear the real story. Her story. Let me begin. ***There once was a little girl who wore a ho...
Weekly Contest #275
Onward. Onward and out, breaking surface, breaking even, and—Mad woman. No one likes a mad woman. Moonlit silk strung together by the thine of song, and whispering, whispering, SCREAMING! Limericks, long forgotten. The hem of my soaked dress drags against wilting lavender stock. Mad woman. No one likes a mad woman. I let my imagination run wild, fully knowing what I am seeing and what I am not seeing. Behind me, the lake, where sorrows and secrets can rest. In front of me, the meadow, its flowers painted in mute...
Weekly Contest #274
Stark against the bark, like drips from a faucet they fall, down, down, down, bleeding in brilliant shades of red. He watches each droplet pool in a grassy ruin, as the late afternoon sun burns his back. She’s motionless, still as death. Until she’s not. Until her head cocks to the side and she lifts it towards him, flashing him a grin. He takes a step back, palms raised. You are of sound mind, you act with great virtue. You are here. You are here. You are—She stands now on shaking legs, the blue bow in her hair slipping ...
Weekly Contest #272
It was just a game Krissy had made.Looking back, I wish I never went into her basement, wish I never saw that painting on the wall.Looking back, I wish I never played her game at all.But Mom and Dad had a work party to go to, so last Friday night they walked me next door to Krissy’s house.I remember it being cold outside, so cold, I ran back into my house to grab a warmer coat. It was dark too, and only the streetlamps dotting the sidewalk offered any kind of light. The space between my house and Krissy’s was long enough to make me think twi...
Weekly Contest #271
When I first saw it, I waited for it to make sense, but it never did. Emma was so happy, thrilled even. She had just woken up, I remember that, and her little fist was tightly wrapped around something. She squealed, eyes wild, as if it was Christmas morning. “Mama, look what I found. It’s me, it’s me!” Emma opened her hand and a small, crumpled sticky note lay in it. I smiled at her, my little curiosity, then took the piece of paper. I smoothed out its pinched corners, staring down at it. It read, EMMA This was strange. T...
Weekly Contest #270
I wasn’t suppose to eat it, but what’s a girl to do? I, like the rest of the folks in this small town, don’t have much a anything, especially not money. We’re hungry. We’re hungry all the time. Sometimes it’s hard to focus cuz I’m so hungry. I can’t sit still in school and I can’t finish my chores because no matter what I do, the hungers always there, like an aching, like a monster. It’s been this way ever since I can remember. Mama does her best feedin’ us, but it can get hard, even a 12-year-old like me knows that. My you...
Weekly Contest #268
“Help us! Please, God, someone help us! Please God, make it—” “Turn it off, turn that off right now! My apologies, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my apologies.” The prosecutor adjusts his glasses, his voice tight. “What you just heard was a clip from the found footage discussed in this case. Upon review, the Honorable Mary Dolas determined it was insufficient for viewership, due to its grotesque and gruesome nature. For this purpose, you will be reading only the transcript of the found footage. You may proceed in reading Exhibit 1.” ...
Weekly Contest #267
TW - sexual violence and substance abuseI let the liquor sing— slow and steady it burns as it blooms. I look across the kitchen table at my father, sitting there in his faded flannel, then take another swig. It goes down all too easy.“I think you need to cool it there a little, Jessica,” he says. Like he’s one to talk. This place, this cramped, craphole of a place, reeks of cigarettes and spilt beer. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with this one. But I can’t help what I am, right? I can’t help what I do, or what I say, not wh...
Weekly Contest #266
Dear Cynthia,I want to write something with you again. I still love to write and I know you do too. We had so much fun. We still can. What do you say? I want to call it, The Cousin’s Cure, because I think we can help each other. Creating can be a very personal thing, and I want to share it with someone who will understand. I know you will. I’m curious to see where this road will take us. Maybe back to one another. Maybe we can be best friends again. God knows I miss you. I miss you more than words can say. Write me soon.&...
Weekly Contest #261
Now what. I can’t move. I can’t think. I’m just sitting here, frozen, mouth slightly agape, staring at a sea of people. Well, a room with about 50 wedding guests, give or take— but you get the point. This isn’t a great start for a Maid of Honor.What am I supposed to do again? A small voice breaks through the fog. “Come on, Liss. You can do it. You’re almost there.” I look over at the boy sitting next to me. Not a boy anymore, not really. A man. Seth is more of a man now than our father ever was. I look into Seth...
Weekly Contest #249
We’re just kids, Ma. Please let us stay. Please. Please let me keep my—I wake with a start, drenched in sweat. It takes me a few moments to realize where I am, but then I see the wooden walls made of timber, the pointed slope of the ceiling, and remember. The cabin. We’re still in the cabin. After lying on the stiff, unforgiving floorboards, it takes a great deal of effort to stand. But somehow I do. I walk over to the boarded-up window and peek through one of the slates. It looks like the first snowfall of the season has begu...
Weekly Contest #235
“Please, let me help you,” the land whispers. “Hush and let me lay you to sleep.” “Never yield,” my bones answer back. “Never again shall I yield.” And so I stand. And then I climb. ***Why can’t I forgive myself? It’s a question I ask far too often. Me, myself, and I, cursed with an incessant conscience. You know how people get sick, like, with the flu? And they have a fever or sore throat? Well sometimes I get like that, but only in my mind. I’ll catch this mental cold, this downright depressing spiral of thoug...
Weekly Contest #230
Funny, how places aren’t places, as much as they are times. I let the thought ripple across my stream of consciousness, as careless and as casual as a sea breeze. I look at the blooming hydrangeas before me, then reach out to pluck one of the pastel petals between my fingers. Yes, places aren't places, as much as they are times. Lost in thought, I study the flowers that grow here — lemon daisies, sunflowers, toad lilies — and admire how each flower adds a touch of wild beauty to my grandmother’s garden. Every step I take shifts their sh...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
8 likes
