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
Writing Beyond Your "Brand"
March 16, 2026
How Publishing Money Really Works
March 09, 2026
Writing Page-Turning Thrillers
March 02, 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 Jun, 2024
Weekly Contest #300
Homes aren’t supposed to bleed I felt a hint of warmth wash over me as I stood before the old box TV. It was playing recorded 90’s commercials. It certainly wasn’t the top-tier modern technology bought with small cards by people who didn’t know what to do with their money. But it was good enough for a small child with one lonesome Barbie doll and Mr. Teddy with only one eye. The birds whistled friendly songs in those early morning hours and enjoyed the fresh summer air. Not me. I searched for the remote between the polyester couch cushions (...
Weekly Contest #277
The first time I met my brother, I did not greet him. He quietly entered the looming house, and we traversed the creaking floorboards like unwelcome animals. ‘Is she asleep?’ He picked up a dusty photo album but kept it firmly closed. ‘She should be knocked out for a while.’ I eyed him carefully. He refused to glance back at me. I wondered if he even recognized me. Jacob’s stubborn face looked just like his photos, except he was worn and old. There was a hint of red mocking his tufty hair. Those searching eyes analyzed every busy corner of t...
Weekly Contest #256
I never ran much. I was supposed to, but days went by where I could only sit at the end of my garden, whistling Piano Man to any old bird who could hear me. In my imagination, I dashed through warm light in the meadows, my hands becoming as refringent as water droplets. It was a dance against the dark dirt when I floated for a moment in between those leaps of faith. The wind became oil paint smeared across the canvas around me in monumental colors. It did not matter how fast I ran, but rather, it mattered how the deer ran alongside me and ho...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
8 likes
