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 Art of Trope Marketing
November 16, 2026
Landing Your Literary Agent
November 22, 2026
It's All Been Done Before: Writing Myths and Legends
November 23, 2026
Live Editing #13 with Kristen Weber
November 30, 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 Oct, 2026
Weekly Contest #378
“And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold,” said the Reverend Greene in my ear. It was sundown in Natchitoches. A small wooden house, beset with ruin. Look at me. Look at me sitting there in that dusty old recliner. My cheeks are sallow and pale. My eyes are bloodshot and humorless. And the Reverend Greene, reading feverishly from his open Bible. The mourners are scuttling to their cars underneath the pecan trees. Leaving the house with a tip of their hat, and a “m’condolences ma’am.” Stepping out into the mud. So...
Weekly Contest #377
It was autumn in Corpus. The harvest term was largely done up, and Count Carrion was sitting in Carrion Hall. Shadows lengthening by twilight in the October chill. The whistle of wind could be heard throughout the streets of Corpus. So much so that the baker, the barber, the busser, even the butcher could be heard shivering their teeth as it swung through the small bucolic village. Foot travelers were unrecognizable as they trundled and scrunched their coats up to their ears to escape the whips of wind. The locomotive drivers scarcely diffe...
Weekly Contest #376
** Content Warning: Story contains physical violence and gore. Story contains strong language.** After I killed him, I threw the body in a lake, threw up blood in the bathroom of a 7-Eleven, and walked home before the sun came up. I didn’t sleep that night. I kept waiting for the sound of sirens. I kept telling myself, “Get the fuck out of town.” Now my eyes have red tendrils seeping into my pupils. I’m sweating through my shirt and probably my sheets, only I’m too uncomfortable to look. “This is crap,” I say from my bed. The door is open, ...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
5 likes
