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
What's in a Name? Naming Characters, Places & Titles
February 09, 2026
Previous events
From Book to Screen (And Everything in Between)
February 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 Oct, 2025
Submitted to Contest #331
Snowfall in Slow Motion It was a chilly December morning. Even in the warmth of his cozy studio in the business district of New York, he could feel the cold biting into his bones. The city hummed faintly below, its pulse steady and indifferent, but inside him something tightened, as though the frost outside had crept beneath his skin. He stood before the broad glass panes that framed his view of the winter-struck city, hands cupped loosely around a mug that had long since lost its heat. Snow drifted past in slow, deliberate spirals, each fla...
Submitted to Contest #326
The cold had settled early that week, the kind that crept into the walls and stayed there. Even inside, the air felt heavy, as though the house itself had stopped breathing. Evan had noticed how quiet everything had become lately—the usual chatter of children outside, the hum of neighbors’ televisions, even the distant rhythm of the highway. All of it had thinned, drained away, leaving a silence that didn’t feel peaceful so much as waiting. He had started leaving the radio on just to fill the rooms, but even that had begun to betray him. Sta...
Submitted to Contest #325
He was at the seashore, finally.For the first time in years, there was no screen waiting, no notifications, no deadlines tapping their fingers behind his eyes. The world felt strange without the low hum of his computer fan — that mechanical breath that had become his own. He had spent a decade staring at the same flickering light, typing numbers that meant nothing, answering messages that went nowhere. The days blurred, the walls closed in, and he forgot how silence sounded.Now, standing before the sea, he realised silence wasn’t empty — it ...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
6 likes
