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
Publishing in Audio: What You Need to Know in 2026
February 10, 2026
What's in a Name? Naming Characters, Places & Titles
February 09, 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 Mar, 2023
He did it in the Library With a Knife Stacker emerges from the recessed niche he appropriated from a student of literature who leaped to his death from the northwest window of the Rare Book Collection. Murder? Stacker discovered the hidden room only half a year ago. Located on the attic floor of the campus’s Main Library, which houses The Rare Book Collection. Stacker feels the hidden room has chosen him to continue the lineage of those who rescued books and built this monument from the doomed and discarded. Builders whose linage goes wel...
Between Two Worlds: Fresh blood, wet and slick seeped into the flannel of Josep’s calico coat. Whose blood? It’s his father’s, or his mother’s or a comingling of both. He didn’t know whose. Only that it smelt slightly like the rusty, greasy hub of a wagon wheel. But mostly like animals butchered. The darkness, swiftness, and clubbing left him dazed. Crossed and blurry, the blaze inhabiting his eyes reflected into the sky, a plea sculptured by fear, bleeding out into space: Unanswered. Chizmo began to set fire to everything that ever existed ...
Submitted to Contest #218
Abreaction "Doctor, the signature of murder is everywhere: but there is no stink of death. Should be. But there isin't. It's the worst stink of all. The worse sense of all. And you want to know about my first brush with death?” “Yes.” Says Doctor Fringe. She’s the Department Psychiatrist. I don’t deny that I have issues. “Go ahead. Relax.” She says, “I’ve given you a mild sedative: 5% solution of sodium amytal to ease you in and counter another reaction. Play it back in your mind, like a video. We’re going deeper today. Get to the root and...
Submitted to Contest #216
Guts fascinated Chalktawl. The bayou offered up a host of entrails from American Alligators, swamp rats, feral hogs… and humans. Chalktawl has seen them all. Including those of Tex. Crouching on his knees, Chalktawl lifted a lumpy strand of a transversing zig and zag for a closer look. He tilted the willow stick. The large intestine descended back into the heap. If he hadn’t been 4-F, he’d seen plenty of guts on D-Day. Summoned by U S Marshall Louise LaBlanc, Chalktawl Jones arrived. They were gone. The guts. Gone from where they’d gushed a...
Submitted to Contest #214
The Gravity of Summer Josie woke in an eerie darkness, where neither starlight, moonbeam, nor sunshine ever entered. The only light is fashioned to the Red Hermit’s head. Grudgingly, he’ll exchange this bottomless darkness for another form of gloom - by dying - by poison. Josie says, “What's that sound?” The Hermit jerks his head. Carbolic light transits away from Josie’s face. It pierces and then hovers like a UFO in the cavernous vault of deception. Something is there. Frozen. In a side drift. A rat? No. It’s a pareidolia articulated f...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: