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
Reading with a Writer's Eye
July 27, 2026
Layer by Layer: How to Edit Your Book
July 19, 2026
How To Be More Productive as a Writer
July 06, 2026
Level Up the Structure of Your Story
June 29, 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 Mar, 2023
Weekly Contest #353
There was a stillness to the air, to an almost impossible degree, as if the air itself had begun to forget how to stir and dance until the stone that had denied it the one privilege air was afforded was hauled away and left the air with nothing but the ghost of memory to dance to. The thick scent of long-rotted wood carried upwards on a whoosh as it went to greet a world that had not waited for it. Yes, the world had moved on, but it could not take its ghosts with it. This, naturally, had been anticipated and so the team that stared down i...
Weekly Contest #351
The man did not know who it was staring back out of the mirror at him. He did not hate what he was saying, not necessarily at least, but it was not the face he was expecting to see. His own visage was so seared into his memory that the stranger captured within the frame was more than a little jarring the longer he stared. There was a light blazing in the darkness of the figure’s face, burning away the dullness that had claimed it for so long that he had forgotten what it was like without it. Even with enough bags under his eyes to fill a sm...
Weekly Contest #329
Raymond Fabble was, as all people tended to be, comprised of a great many multitudes. He was the only person who could accurately manage the online archives of the little bookstore in which he found himself employed, never accidentally selling the same book more than once. When his pay could justify it, he had a habit of dropping off a little collection of cans and dried goods to the local food drives. While he hardly could claim the most impressive collection in the world, he had managed to acquire a decent enough collection of antiques thr...
Weekly Contest #305
He looked between us once more and said, “It’s either her or me…” The storm that whipped its vicious fury overheard and cast its song echoing strangely around us nearly stole his words from me, lost to the sheer intensity of the wind that remained unacquainted with our skin. Perhaps it was a mercy, after all, if it were to struggle to hear him as I stood alongside him, surely she had not heard him. Heard him, and worse, saw the sense behind his words and agreed. “Don’t be ridiculous, we can all make it out of here, don’t start ruling anybod...
Weekly Contest #303
There was a bitter chill to the air, the creeping winter stretching its long talons through the night, but as nice as the thought would be, it was not the cold itself that sent icy discomfort racing down the man’s spine. What little light the gaslamps in the street below afforded left too much to the imagination, strange shapes flickering and dancing and playing absolute havoc with his imagination. Albert could not say with any sincerity that the world of imagination or that of reality would be kinder than the other, the devil you know and t...
Weekly Contest #289
The room is unfamiliar. I don't know how I got here. I don't know how anything at all could find its way in here, it appears to have been quite thoroughly sealed up from all possible entrance points. There is nothing in this room, aside from myself and what few things I had stored away in my pockets - my notepad and pen, and a lighter that was infuriatingly without any fluid and so served little more than something I could feel the weight in my hand as a reminder there was something in the world still. The pale pink of the walls were not qui...
Weekly Contest #258
Henry was a photographer, freelance and somehow forever just one step behind whatever was necessary to make a name for himself. That said, he had managed to get a landscape or two featured in named magazines, and if he happened to have framed the article they were featured in and stored it safely in his room, that was rather between himself and his dresser. For something that was considered a glorified hobby, the fact that it was something that brought him joy managed to be far more important than any intention to monetize his pleasure. The ...
Weekly Contest #257
It was the dream again. It was always the same, blurred and gentle under the veil of dreamish memory, just as real as the waking world with none of the harsh realities of wakefulness. Details, as was often the case with dreams, as she had found, seemed just beyond her grasp, out of reach for even her desperate clinging fingers. With a body still heavy with the bindings of lingering slumber she had yet to shed, a pajama-clad Ophelia padded from the sanctuary of her bedroom to the little kitchen, a yawn hidden beyond the sleeve of her dr...
Weekly Contest #248
The willow trees whistled and groaned with the existential exhaustion of lost and wandering damned souls seeking unachievable salvation amongst the shadowy corners of the earth. Shadows that stretched just that little bit too long in the growing gloom, swayed and danced a little too erratically as a swirl of bitter wind stirred up the leaves that had begun to rot into nothingness on the forest floor. All was too silent, the quiet of the grave reaching its spectral hands up to clasp at the living, even the occasional cry of a night bird seeme...
Weekly Contest #239
To maintain the protection of those infected and those inquisitive souls who might wish to seek out the validity of the following document, the names of all people and places have been changed. We request that you do not attempt to investigate further. From news reports at the time, it was said to have been the result of a freak storm several miles away shedding debris, however no such storm has yet to be reported. One Bromwicher resident claimed in the early hours of the event that “those religious fanatics what shout at folks going about t...
Rose could not quite place when it was that it first started, or indeed really when she had first noticed that there was anything at all that was actually starting that she should have noted. It was a simple thing, at first. The book she had placed on the little rich elm table now sitting forlornly upon the carpet upon her return. The table itself being a decent hand’s length from where she had left it before setting out with the knowledge that there would be nobody at all about the house in her absence. Really, perhaps it ought to have b...
Weekly Contest #235
The room was just as he had left it mere hours ago. Almost. The haphazardously stacked yet untouched pile of books remained in their alarming lean, just as he had left them. The heavy curtains were just as drawn as he had left it, ensuring no prying rays of light had the chance to creep in and invade the space. Why, he had even allowed for a sigh of relief when he observed, upon his return, the little scrap of paper fluttering from the doorframe where he had wedged it. But that did not account for the accursed thing that set his blood to i...
Weekly Contest #230
We of the esteemed Society of Luxure and Beon (for the fabulously hedonistic and lavish) wish to congratulate you on your entry into our outermost circles. This is not a privilege that is given to just anybody and we hope that you can both understand and respect the gravity of this honour and act accordingly. Your enjoyment of the finer things in life have not gone unnoticed and we offer you a platform for which to delve into whatsoever pleasures you might wish to indulge. It is of vital importance that you heed the rules of th...
Weekly Contest #228
Why on earth did he decide it was a good idea to invite the man over to make him dinner? He didn’t know how to cook! Well, actually that was not entirely true, what he did not know how to do was cook something that was edible – or even something that was not worthy of being labeled a biological hazard – but that did not mean that he did not know how to stir things. He would like to think he was capable of that at least, but frankly Charlie doubted there were very many recipes that were made entirely by the act of stirring things over the sto...
(Content warning: cannibalism, details of the act of cannibalism, and a narrator that sees nothing wrong with glorifying it)There had been no greater ecstasy in the course of his life that could ever come close to that of which shocked through his very soul the first time he brought the flesh to his mouth. Unspoiled by the act of cooking, there was a lingering sweetness to the meat that excited his senses near to the point of giddying, delicious delirium. As he tore through the still-warm tissue, he knew with a resounding certainty that no m...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
6 likes
