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
Live Editing #4 with Noah Charney
January 26, 2026
Previous events
Raising the Stakes: Build Tension on Every Page
January 19, 2026
Level Up Your Writing in 2026
January 18, 2026
First Impressions: Rocking the First Line and Paragraph
January 12, 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, 2020
Submitted to Contest #169
Peter is very serious about becoming your forever friend, but you don’t know this yet. You don’t even know what it means. In the beginning, you stand at the edge of your aunt’s walkway with your suitcase in hand, squinting against the sun. A friend of your father’s drives away in his pickup. Exhaust fumes linger above the asphalt like a black ghost, encumbered by humidity. Aunt Wendy appears on the front porch, urging you to come indoors where there’s air-conditioning and sweet tea. “Aryan,” she calls. She’s one of those people, the ones...
Submitted to Contest #91
As a child, Isa never spoke of her travels. She feared the others wouldn’t believe her. Growing older, she feared that they would. She did not want to end up ostracized like her friend Alys, who saw hallucinations and spoke about them until all the other children believed her to be either a liar or a loon. Nobody had believed Alys except Isa. Perhaps because Isa was different, too. The neighborhood regarded Isa as a quiet, odd child. What could one expect? She did not look or behave like the other children. Her father was an African immigr...
Winner of Contest #23 🏆
The boy should have known something was wrong the moment he glanced back over his shoulder, but he was too tired and wary and afraid to register the truth. He followed the sound of the keening pipe. Its unfamiliar melody, absurdly cheerful, jarred him from the carnage. It filtered through the pores of his skin and infused him with the strength and warmth he needed to run through the icy clutches of winter. The forest muffled the sounds within and beyond it as if the trees themselves swallowed noise—all but the tune of the unseen piper. Time ...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
22 likes
