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 Jun, 2024
Weekly Contest #350
My name is Blorbo Fizz Quibbleton. Yes, that is my real name. No, I don't know what my parents were thinking, but I assume they were either very confident… or very distracted.Of course I have considered legally changing it to something cooler like ‘Jake Supreme’ or ‘Mad Max’, but my mom said I have to wait until I'm eighteen. Honestly though, that feels like gatekeeping identity. Which is unfair because I've already mentally rebranded.I'm eleven years old, and I've recently discovered something very important: adults think they are in charge...
Weekly Contest #349
I remember my name in pieces. Not all at once. Not cleanly. It doesn't return the way memories are supposed to. It comes back broken, like glass buried beneath ash, cutting through when I least expect it. A voice finds me first. Not a face. Not a place. Just a voice. Worn thin at the edges, like it's been used too often in too many ways. It drifts through the hollow corridors of my mind, quiet but certain. “Jonah.” Sometimes I remember what it felt like to hear it— how the sound settled into me, how it meant something. How it meant me. Other...
Weekly Contest #348
[Warning: This story is surrounded by child loss.]The letter arrived on a Tuesday, folded with unnatural precision, its edges so sharply creased they looked machine-made. It sat alone in Victoria Harper's mailbox, wedged between grocery coupons and a water bill, as if it had always belonged there—quietly waiting.Her name was written on the front, Victoria Harper. The handwriting stopped her. It wasn't elegant or messy. It wasn't rushed. It was familiar in a way that made something deep in her chest tighten—like hearing a voice you haven't he...
The first time it happens, Haddie doesn't notice the silence—she notices the sound. The bathroom fan hums overhead, steady and dull. The faucet drips in a slow, uneven rhythm—tap tap...tap. She brushes her teeth, watching herself in the mirror. Half-focused, half somewhere else.Then—the drip stops. The hum cuts out and the world blinks. Haddie freezes, toothbrush halfway to her mouth. For a single, impossible second, there is nothing.No sound.No movement.No sense of time passing.It's like someone pressed pause on existence itself.After a few...
On the night she won, the city glittered like it belonged to her. From the balcony of the penthouse, Ava Sinclair rested her fingertips against the cool glass railing and watched the skyline breathe—thousands of windows lit like quiet applause.Below, the streets pulsed with movement, horns and laughter faint but constant, a living current that never seemed to sleep.Somewhere down there, her name was being spoken in conference rooms and bars, in group chats and breaking news banners.Ava Sinclair. CEO of Sterling Dynamics. Youngest in history....
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: