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 #379
Autumn hung in the brisk evening air, lit by a backdrop of foggy pinks, oranges and blues that blanketed the death lined streets below. Sneakers crashed down on dancing leaves breathed only momentarily back to life by a cacophony of youthful laughter that echoed between houses. Heavy eyes glared down on the morbidity of the joy the arises in the frightful activities of the night, longing with the patience of a spider sitting by its own web, waiting for its next meal. Wind creaked, echoed, and howled through the aged paneling, unkempt floorbo...
Weekly Contest #378
The old man thrashed through his workshop. Fear danced up and down his spine causing his limbs to tremble under its weight. He screamed the scream of a thousand faces, and it was as though every mask he had made was screaming in terror along with him; it was a hauntingly grim orchestra. One scream stood in a beautiful spotlight among the others. A soprano. She was trained and tortured, and she was once stolen. He followed the beautiful scream she made and as he drew closer the rest fell to a stiff silence. There she was. Her face was smooth ...
Weekly Contest #376
Oliver, an erratic seven-year-old, was regrettably born into an unfortunate home. Growing up children avoided him like the plague. He had no siblings to bully or teach him, but only a mother who was never there; not to say that she didn't try. From the moment he was born, Oliver proved that he was more than the young woman could handle. Despite her best efforts she was blind to her son. She saw him as alone; but what she could never see, he did, and he was rarely ever alone. Oliver had his own friends. Friends without voices; at least not vo...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
1 like
