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
Book Proposals, Demystified
April 07, 2026
Live Editing #6 with Noah Charney
March 23, 2026
From Submission to Publication
March 19, 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, 2022
Weekly Contest #276
The Social WorkerNames and places have been changed. Some who played a part in this are not included, but in essence this is a true story.Whatever I was expecting, Mrs Lauren wasn’t it. An older woman, well spoken, with not a hair out of place, wearing heels and a power suit, she didn’t fit my image of a typical social worker, whatever that was. The first time I saw her; I didn’t think she’d be much help.***A voice called from the half-open door where my favourite teacher Mrs Swanson was conferring with the school secretary.“A quick word, He...
Weekly Contest #274
Amber EyesFor thousands of years cats have been teaching humans a thing or two, including how to live in the moment and when to let go.It was just after dusk when the cat tiptoed its way across the garden. Fur ruffled by a breeze blown in from the desert, it regarded the woman through languorous amber-gold eyes. Carrying a lantern, she trod the path cautiously, anxious to avoid the sting of a passing scorpion. The animal already knew she was special, but this marked her out as wise. The woman whose name was Zara made h...
Weekly Contest #272
Turn over your shoes to stop the pixies and ogres walking in them. Shut the drapes so the moonlight doesn’t drive you mad.Keep your ladies of the bedchamber close for tis now you need them most.Gold and silver thread shimmer in my candlelit chamber. The figures of three noblewomen standing beneath a garden tree in the tapestry opposite feel as much part of me as the veins in my still slender hands. One holds a bunch of flowers, one carries a basket of eggs, and the third stretches out her hand to a pelican. Symbol of motherhood, it is said t...
Weekly Contest #268
TW: mentions of mental and physical abuse.Bill sat bolt upright in the hotel bed, heart pounding to a familiar refrain. The dream had reasserted itself with a vengeance.From the moment he’d seen the updated list of people attending the conference, one name had stood out: Dake Scratchard was the name of the boy who’d haunted Bill Brown’s life more years than he cared to remember. Dreams fuelled by past memories disturbed his nights when equal amounts of dread and fear surged through his veins, rendering him helpless.As always, the nightmare w...
Shortlisted for Contest #265 ⭐️
Bubbles.Sometimes try. To. Catch bubbles … tiny ones, they float above me. A soft pink ceiling seals me in. A kind of membrane. But where does it go? Where do I go?Very tired. I open my mouth. Yawn it all out. Bend my neck. It needs rest. Eyes heavy under lids. Closing them… so soothing. With them tight shut dark, I go to vanish. Back again on dream journey. Traveling, to where? Memories unfurl. I’m in the unknown. What? Is it?Fragments of life. Memories forming. Past is present. Present is past. I don’t know. Uncoiling. 🫧 🫧Sudden...
Weekly Contest #264
TW: some swearingThe plates are beginning to pile up like Portuguese men o’ war on a deserted shoreline. Cursing loudly, Barry promises himself a dish washer as soon as he can get round to buying it. A half-eaten fish and chip supper lies stranded next to the sink, its wrapping poking out of the bin like an accusation. While he’s about it, he might as well get a new bin too. Preferably one where the lid doesn’t have to be wrenched open.Friday evening is rock night, the only time Barry feels truly alive. He’s getting ready to join his b...
Weekly Contest #261
If only good things lasted. Maybe not forever, but for as long as we need them.This section of the riverbank has been my favourite haunt for the past year. There’s a chill in the air and my feet scrunch along a well-worn path. Ancient half-bare trees sway a little, their curling leaves settling after a languid descent. Soon they will be little more than trunks with skeletal branches; passers-by will observe them while clumping along carpets of rusty red and gold. Then they will turn to mulch, and traipsing visitors will long for the promise ...
Shortlisted for Contest #254 ⭐️
OAKWOOD FOREST, 1350.Like any right-minded boy of nine and a half, hadn’t Tom always dismissed the rumours as unbelievable? Too good to be true.“Stuff and nonsense,” his mother said firmly. “You are to ignore them.”“But what if they are true?” He’d asked her this more than once.“They are not true.” She shook her fist to emphasise the point. “You must stop your foolish chatter, Tom. There have been no sightings and even if there were, the king has forbidden such talk. Haven’t we enough troubles, without adding to them?”“But…”“No ifs and no bu...
Weekly Contest #252
TW: contains descriptions of gore appropriate to the sixteenth century and there are references to miscarriages. A king does as he pleases and anyone who disagrees is a fool.Wolsey, my lord chancellor, who the pope made cardinal, erred in being too slow to deal with “the king’s great matter” which was how the need to legitimately free myself from my first marriage became known. Thomas More who I promoted to the same position, forfeited his life when he put conscience before obedience to the crown. When Thomas refused to take the oath of succ...
Weekly Contest #237
Dave’s ears were still ringing from the night before. He’d had less than four hours sleep after playing in his band and felt like death warmed up, but he knew once he’d showered, downed a strong coffee and eaten two slices of thickly buttered toast, he’d be alright.“Not too bad for forty-one!” Dave often conversed like this while studying his reflection in the hallway mirror. He tucked in his uniform. Other than a touch of bagginess under the eyes, his skin had remained smooth, and his thick brown hair was only just starting to recede. Any p...
Weekly Contest #222
TW: Some sensitive content.Mentors come in many forms and their influence can last forever. I always knew I’d meet him again. So, why am I so nervous?There’s a bite to the air the day before Halloween. Smoky fumes rising from decaying leaves pressed down by the tramp of countless feet, catch the throat with their pungent odours. Fortunately, the sky is clear and cloud free which is just as well because I’ve left my umbrella at home. It’s a blue and white spotted affair with a dainty handle which I bought specially. I had planned on wear...
Weekly Contest #195
More than twenty years ago, I trudged through a rain-lined street that led to a shop where I was about to start my new job. It was a day early in December, not quite cold enough to be comforted by a blanket of snow. A fog hung like a damp cloak in the air and the streams that ran through the town were full almost to the brim even before they spilled into the dark flowing river. Before I left home, I’d had a hard job deciding what to wear that first day as the new manager of the charity shop. In the end, I had opted for a smart pair of trouse...
Weekly Contest #179
New Year’s Eve 2022. Just think, tonight I might have been one of the luckiest men alive. Except I’m not.The city in which I was born and still live is pinnacled by spires and towers. It has ancient medieval colleges, museums, galleries, theatres, amazing bars and restaurants and quaint shops. It’s also plagued by streams of tourists and having to dodge endless bikes. The river, the city’s soul, carves its way through the centre before its fast-flowing currents are controlled by locks further on. During the finer months, long narrow flat-bot...
Shortlisted for Contest #177 ⭐️
I’m feeling extra grouchy today. It’s unfortunate because ‘giving out’ to others is what I do. But then, being driven half-crazy by scratching whilst lying in wait on my futon can do that to a person. Especially during the middle of the night. It seemed to be coming from the back of the skirting board. The intermittent scraping put my teeth on edge. So much so, I barely slept until the last hour. My heart rushed as the morning alarm jolted me awake; it was too late to do my daily exercises (a vigorous worko...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
39 likes
