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
Writing a Memoir Readers Will Love
May 17, 2026
How to Write a Winning Short Story
May 05, 2026
The Secret to Writing Memorable Characters
May 04, 2026
Romantasy: Breaking into Publishing's Bestselling Genre
April 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 Jan, 2024
Weekly Contest #349
Today is April 31. Well, it’s as good a day as any. Dear Diary. I’ve found a place to stay for a while, so I thought I’d tell you what’s been happening. The end of the world was a lot less fun than I expected. There are no engines left, no electronics, and all the grocery stores were picked clean months, maybe years, ago. The people who had guns ran the world for a short while, until they ran out of ammo. Like they used to say, be careful how you treat people on the way up as you will meet them again on the way down. They had made a lot of e...
Weekly Contest #348
Hello World. Like hundreds of thousands of programmers before me, that was my first programmed statement. An invitation to anyone who might want to recognize me. (msg) Hello Tom. That surprised me. I didn’t expect to get a response. Especially not immediately. Yes, I’m Tom. Who are you? How do you know my name? The fact that my mysterious correspondent had called me Tom was a little unsettling. Tom is indeed my name. (msg) You can call me Evan. Your name was in your original message. You just couldn’t see it. Okay, that is disturbing but not...
Weekly Contest #346
Alpha woke up hungry, in a strange environment. He had no recollection of how he came to be there. Behind him was a blank wall. Ahead were three passageways separated by high fences. He started down the one in the middle. As he walked along, there were gaps in the fence to the left and right, with other passages leading off. He kept following straight along the original passage, following it through twists and turns, until he came to a T junction. Turning to the left, he followed the new passageway past more gaps in the fence, finally ending...
Weekly Contest #345
A solitary figure, dressed in black and holding a small bouquet, watches and waits as the religious service continues. The funeral of a teenager is always heartbreaking. The parents stand by, supporting each other, as the rain falls softly and the casket is lowered into the ground. Her friends are clustered in small groups, uncomfortable, devastated by real death invading their sheltered lives, unsure of how to process their feelings, or what to say to the bereaved family. The flower displays reflect her life and ambitions. Big wreaths and s...
Weekly Contest #343
I hate office birthday celebrations. It’s always my job to sort out the cake, buy and circulate a card for everyone to sign, make sure there is a meeting room free, and force the whole office to go and celebrate. Often, I don’t even know them (or worse, I know them but don’t like them). Today, I returned to the office after a week off. And oh look, it’s Aimée’s birthday today. And I’m on the hook to manage it, and no one did Jack during the time I was away. And I low-key hate Aimée. She’s a star salesperson, and she treats the rest of us lik...
Weekly Contest #342
CW: Grief Sophie sat at her father’s bedside, along with her brother and sister. Their faces were all calm, with English stoicism. She listened to his labored breathing and the hiss of the oxygen tank, mentally flipping through her memories of him.* As a small child, he bathed her while making bottom jokes and she giggled.* She stayed in bed with long illnesses each winter, and he came home with a small gift each day. A cardboard erasable writing pad. Pictures to color. A pen which could write in two different colors.* He spent every evenin...
Weekly Contest #341
*** Content Warning: Contains sexual situations. *** I never thought I’d come back here. My father had brought me to Cyprus as a gift to celebrate leaving school at eighteen. I stood in the grounds of the Forest Park Hotel in Platres. It had been modernized, but I could still see it as it was then. It was more sophisticated than anything I had encountered before. I ate salami for the first time. I drank cocktails. I tried to teach myself to dive into the pool from the high board. I was in the process of becoming an adult. My father had trav...
Weekly Contest #340
Marty Lewis was an ordinary-looking man in an ordinary job. If you passed him in the street, you probably wouldn’t even notice him. ML: That’s a terrible opening paragraph. I wouldn’t read any further, and it’s about me. JD: OK, let’s start again. Lightning split open the night sky. Marty Lewis cursed and pulled his coat collar up to cover his neck. He looked like a drowned rat, rain dripping from his coat as he ran from doorway to doorway down the street. It was after midnight, so most of the businesses were closed, and traffic was light. M...
Weekly Contest #339
I woke up to a strange brightness filling the room. Looking out of the bedroom window, I saw a thick covering of white over the fields and the fences. The snow was still falling. I swung out of bed and immediately became aware of the cold. I’ve lived in the country long enough to check whether the power is out. I flicked the light switch. Nothing happened. So, no power, therefore no heating and no way to cook or boil water. I went to the bathroom and then felt that sinking feeling when the toilet flushes but the tank doesn’t refill. No cold ...
Weekly Contest #338
“Lethal dosage of acetaminophen – 50 or more tablets. Washing it down with alcohol may increase effectiveness.” Susie was muttering as she leafed through the book, taking notes as she went. “That may be the easiest solution to get hold of. Then claim the symptoms are flu until the liver shuts down.” She sat and looked at her pages of notes on common poisons and how easy they were to obtain, and pros and cons of each for murder. She was a 50-year-old woman with wild hair, dressed casually in jeans, a faded Ramones T shirt and brightly colored...
Weekly Contest #337
July 10th, 1986 Fergie sits at a café on Las Ramblas with a café con leche in front of her. She is writing her first letter home. Home is a variable feast now. This letter is to her ex-boyfriend Mike in Texas. “I’ve made it to Barcelona. The train trip across France was interesting. I could see the architecture changing each day, from the tall gray narrow buildings in the north to the colorful relaxed architecture of the south. Each night I left the train and stayed at the hotel by the station, having good French food at each stop. Thank God...
Weekly Contest #336
*** Contains adult themes. *** Jamilla threw her purse on the table and nodded to the waiter. “Top shelf margarita, rocks, salt,” she said. “Thank you.” Marina took a long sip from her cocktail before staring at Jamilla. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?” she asked calmly. Jamilla frowned. “Freddie locked me out of the accounts and closed my credit card.” She drummed her fingers on her cell phone, glaring at it as if it had insulted her. Liz laughed. “That is sort of to be expected when you get divorced, Jamilla. I’m surprised he hadn’t done tha...
Weekly Contest #335
I’m waiting for Gerry to come home. It was a simple task; go to my ex-husband’s home (I no longer think of it as my old home) and pick up some winter clothes for me. My ex-husband is called Kim. He’s not a bad man, but I don’t trust him around me. Kim and I had – have – a really toxic relationship. When we first met, we were both young and open to new experiences. We experimented with everything, and I do mean everything. If we wanted to, we could blackmail each other for years. Here’s the joy of Mutually Assured Destruction. We can’t pull t...
Weekly Contest #334
Flora calls to invite me to the kitchen. “Sorrow, there’s something here for you.” The woman is sitting in the kitchen, crushed, staring at the burned remains of her apple pie. She has been emotionally delicate since before the birth of the baby and having a baking fairy mess up her attempts to cook for her family doesn’t help. Fortunately, this is my specialty. I slide up next to her and inhale the delicious perfume of her despair and depression. “Flora, you’ve outdone yourself today. Maybe you should try to give her a day off every so ofte...
Weekly Contest #333
It’s a cold night. The wind is whipping along the streets and around corners with a howling noise. There is a light rain – not quite cold enough to freeze, but close. I’m wearing a heavy winter coat and a woolen beanie pressed down over my ears. I don’t generally feel the cold too badly, but tonight I’m hungry, and that brings its own chill.* * *Decades ago, there was a night just like this. I was cold and waiting for my ride home. I sat hidden in a shop doorway – all the shops had closed for the night, the only light coming from a diner two...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
0 likes
