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
From Submission to Publication
March 19, 2026
Writing Beyond Your "Brand"
March 16, 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 Sep, 2020
Weekly Contest #341
Visual Voicemail0:19 02/18/2019 Hey babe... I haven’t heard from you today. I just wanted to know if everything was okay?... *Sigh* I don’t want to be upset, but how could you forget— *Background noise of laughter.*Just shoot me a call when you can. Log 1:5 MonthsStage 2: Panic Attacks and Hallucinations05/11/2020Notes: *Symptoms beginning to worsen. Sleep comes sporadically for approximately 2-3 hrs per night. *Unable to recall dreams.*Speech and cognitive functions impaired. When I was diagnosed with fatal insomnia, I had already begun co...
Weekly Contest #340
(Journal of Father Angelo)May 18th, written in 1910When I arrived in Neive, Piedmont, I was uncertain what I might encounter there. The Holy See had provided me with funds and minimal information. I expected plague. Consumption, my believed cause. A sickness of the lungs. The meager report wrote of expulsion of blood and dim pallor. This disease would fall easily within God’s jurisdiction. In tragedies such as these, I minister comforts and prayers to the dying. Neive was a calm place, one I had visited frequently throughout the course of my...
Weekly Contest #85
Her friend spilled a Margarita on her. Mary was never fond of the smell of alcohol. Actually, she downright despised it. Perhaps it was the way it lingered on the breath like sweet spoiled nectar or the lack of coordination thereafter. Either way, the entire ride home she smelled like sour lime and southern Valencia, which now embedded itself in the car seats, no doubt. Why she even agreed to attend that party, she frankly forgot and was too exhausted to care. Tired blue eyes fluttered slightly closed and then open as she gripped the steerin...
Weekly Contest #77
Author's note: This story contains disturbing themes.“There is no Goatman, Peter.”“But I saw it!” “Oh, what have I told you about trying to start a fright? Now please eat your supper. I will hear no more of this nonsense.” Peter’s freckled nose scrunched up at the smell of the porridge. The smell itself was rather bland and faint. Similar to smelling a field of corn about a few blocks away. It had been porridge for weeks now. Bland grits and spotted water from the well. Black particles floated to the top of the yellowish water and ...
Weekly Contest #65
Like me, he was a predator.Holding the silver blade against her neck.Heavy breathing escaping her parted lips.I can see the fear in her eyes. Slash.Blood spilled from the opening in her throat like a red river.Flaps of inflamed skin parted like a toothless smile.I wonder what that was like.The few seconds before death creeps in. I will soon know.I could have saved her. Could even grant her restless spirit revenge if I am so pleased. What difference would it have made? By and by, like all things, her miserable brief life would come ...
Weekly Contest #60
I remember the first moment I saw her…Her beautiful blonde hair glistening in the sunlight.Blue ocean eyes twinkling like diamonds.Well, her beautiful eye…I guess I probably should have mentioned she’s a zombie. Yup, with grey patchy skin, bloodied black nails, and large yellow fangs. Her human days were definitely something in the distant past. The really distant past, but she’s still my girl. Who cares if she has a missing arm and maggots in her eye socket? Love is blind, goddamn it. And if I want to date a zombie, I will do it. ...
Weekly Contest #59
As a teenager, I realized growing up wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, cliche; I know. It wasn’t so much the work that bothered me but more so, the deep, overwhelming, bitter feeling of loneliness, it crept up on me when I least expected it, and that included the safest place a person can be, their own home. I still remember the moment it happened. Though, admittedly, it is a bit of a blur. Bits and pieces remain of the memory. I think the mind works that way; it chooses what it wants to remember. And often, what remains of painful experie...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
10 likes
