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
Live Editing #4 with Noah Charney
January 26, 2026
Raising the Stakes: Build Tension on Every Page
January 19, 2026
Level Up Your Writing in 2026
January 18, 2026
Previous events
First Impressions: Rocking the First Line and Paragraph
January 12, 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 May, 2025
Submitted to Contest #326
TW: Sexual abuse, physical violence. In silence, he could almost pretend the body wasn't his. That the thick, unyielding, veined body, bristling with hair in all the wrong places, was someone else's. Muscle hung at bad angles, the shoulders blunted and broad. Every movement reminded him that he was trapped inside something not built to carry his mind. Fingers scraped against tables in awkward arcs, wrists bent under gravity’s insistence, knees buckling when he tried to walk with any semblance of grace. Sweat pooled beneath arms, along the sp...
Submitted to Contest #303
There's blood on my hands. It congeals in the creases of my knuckles, slick and cold some days, tacky and half-dried on others. I can smell the iron and rot as I track it around with me. When I wash my dishes, it barely thins in the soap. When I tie my shoes, it dyes the laces. I've tried bleach, steel wool, boiling water. I've watched my skin peel and pucker, but the stain stays. It's not just on me, it's in me, worked into the meat.For seven years, I've been working here. Seven years of moving product, of tracking shipments, of pretending ...
Submitted to Contest #302
It’s fascinating how families can maintain their mythology, how they rewrite history through selected photographs and curated anecdotes. James’ family excelled at this. When Uncle’s gloom grew too obvious, he became a creative. When Grandmother’s confusion passed into malice, it was her age. Reality is malleable in families. Standing in his childhood living room, musty with disuse, James could see this process unfold again. The wall that had once displayed a chronological gallery of family photos now contained a conspicuous gap. Pictures fr...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
7 likes
