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
Live Editing #4 with Noah Charney
January 26, 2026
Previous events
Raising the Stakes: Build Tension on Every Page
January 19, 2026
Level Up Your Writing in 2026
January 18, 2026
First Impressions: Rocking the First Line and Paragraph
January 12, 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 Feb, 2022
Submitted to Contest #337
cw: murder, gun violence, sexual abuse Tanner Knight, 68, is watching Tanner Knight, 4, shoot his uncle on VHS with orange foam bullets. Though it’s only pretend, both four-year-old Tanner and sixty-eight-year-old Tanner want the same thing. Their uncle dead. “Oh,” groans his uncle on screen in pretend-pain. “Oh,” he groans again, louder now, his bones popping as he gets down on the brown carpet covered in fragrant green Christmas tree needles. Tanner reloads his weapon, complements of Santa, then points it at his uncle’s purple-spotted hea...
Shortlisted for Contest #335 ⭐️
My heart was broken and I needed an egg. Partly because I’d run out, but mostly because I needed something to break so that, for once, I could be the one doing the breaking.Just like a good man, an egg wouldn’t be an easy thing to secure. Neither would a unit. At least not for me it would. To procure a unit, I’d have to brave the labyrinth, a place I didn’t have the confidence to venture out into without Quinn by my side. Despite his many flaws, most of which the way he made me feel small, incapable, like a child, only one without protection...
Submitted to Contest #324
cw: references to homicide You can’t keep a secret underwater. Sound travels faster through water than air, so you’re better off telling the truth on land than you are oil-spilling the contents of your heart into the Pacific Ocean. I couldn’t tell if anyone else knew the things that I knew. No one at the beach that night looked in my direction. They were so preoccupied with searching for me that they never even saw me standing right there, inches, maybe even centimeters away from their vigilant, salt-stung faces. As I lingered close by, just...
Submitted to Contest #274
cw: drowning I drowned in a paper cup once. One of those free ones that fast food places give you when you ask for a cup of water but then secretly fill with root beer, or whichever drink you like best.Only this cup was filled with water. Just plain tasteless tap water and nothing else.In my previous form, as well as every other form before that one, I had never been the type to fill my free water cup with soda. For one, I wasn’t a thief. Apparently I wasn’t a good swimmer either. I learned this as soon as I hit the water and my many spider ...
Submitted to Contest #260
cw: greif, loss, deathI see my face in my mother’s. Her head, an oval-shaped mirror on a frail torso, shimmers in the moonlight and reflects my image back at me. I can see that I look just as despondent as I feel when I see my reflection in her. My eyes are swollen and my nose wet. I have been in denial for the last several years that my mother is reaching her end.When she first started showing signs of expiration, my father, the emperor of Candlestick Kingdom, took her to the appraiser, who examined her carefully under the light o...
Shortlisted for Contest #202 ⭐️
cw: mild graphic material and brief mention of physical violence If you were here right now, you’d tell me this is a bad idea. You’d take away my phone and remind me that you can’t make someone stay who doesn't want to. You’d have saved me from creating yet another shame-inducing memory I’d end up cringing at five years later—while I’m pumping gas into my car, slicing a tomato, skimming the dead leaves from the pool we used to swim in.While I’ve tried to forget, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that I can recite your number by heart. I’...
Submitted to Contest #196
cw: mentions of suicide, murder, sex, and terminal illness Balloons, apparently, are a weapon of mass destruction. Even the one that I’m fighting to get past security at this very moment—an 18” round one with the words GET WELL SOON printed above a cartoon sun wearing sunglasses. The more I look at it, the more it bothers me that the sun, in theory, is protecting himself against himself. Out of all the people in our lives, we hurt ourselves the most, my husband had warned me before I left. Are you sure you want to visit ...
Submitted to Contest #184
cw: foul language I close my eyes to sleep, but the bright, flickering light of a Liberty Mutual commercial passes through my eyelids. Suddenly, I’m awake. My heart jumps to my throat, and my face flushes hot. Still half-asleep, I take a moment to collect myself, to gather what has happened.It turns out, my husband has done it again—turned on our bedroom TV after I’ve already gone to bed. I consider turning it off point blank, or at least changing the channel to something more palatable. It’s 1:06 in the morning, and he’s chosen&nb...
Winner of Contest #182 🏆
cw: references to sexual assault, kidnapping, and murderThe first time I crossed a street by myself—as in, without one or both of my parents present—I was seventeen. My parents warned me that the outside world was dangerous, and that, if something were to happen to me, I wouldn't know what to do. According to my parents, kidnappers, murderers, and kidnapper-murderers lurked on every corner of our small, suburban town where, statistically, my chances of becoming the victim of a violent crime were less than my chances of being allowed to ...
Shortlisted for Contest #181 ⭐️
You were born on National Maple Syrup Day. Your mother names you Alcyone (pronounced AL-SEE-OWN-EE) because Alcyone means calm. It’s a cruel, unfitting choice given your family’s history of anxiety. You wish your name were something simple and easy-to-say, like Hannah.By the time you turn nineteen, you've grown tired of constantly having to correct people. It’s Al-see-own-ee, you tell them on the days you have more confidence than usual, but they don’t hear you, and if they do hear you, they forget. As far as they’re concerned, you are Aliso...
Submitted to Contest #179
cw: references to near-death experiences 1. Sea turtles, like most reptiles, have three-chambered hearts.There's no sound more unsettling than your own heart beating inside your head. It reminds Cheryl of her mortality—every time she lays her head down on her pillow the wrong way, and her pulse pounds against her skull like the Jehovah’s Witnesses knocking on her door every Sunday to remind her that she won't live forever.Neither will turtles, but she’s never heard a Jehovah’s Witness talk about turtles. Turtle mortality was never a top...
Submitted to Contest #177
When I wake up, the doctor gives me the facts. She delivers them to me gently—her voice like a warm cup of water you could steep a bag of tea in. Somehow, she’s made a car accident sound like a papercut, and so I decide that's what I'd like to call it from now on—a papercut. Can you feel your toes? she asks.I think so. It’s hard to tell. Hm. Can you tell me your name? John.Can you see anything, John? No. Is that normal?Typically. She excuses herself to check on another patient, and I anxiously wait for her to co...
Submitted to Contest #176
It’s a fact—if you and your lover carve your names into the northern red oak tree behind the gas station on Fifth Avenue, your relationship will last forever. Most people don’t think to try. The few who do are mostly driven by either curiosity or superstition. Compared to the curious ones, the superstitious ones are the more dangerous of the two. They flock to the tree with their utility knives and unhealthy attachment styles, desperate to do whatever it takes to make the object of their obsession stay.Beth sees this happen one summer w...
Submitted to Contest #174
Stop looking for me, Vivian. I command you. Your efforts are futile and beginning to border on idiotic. I can no longer stand it—watching you and your makeshift search crew of suburban moms pace up and down Melonbee and Fig Street, looking for the very being who terrorized you for years.With my omniscient feline eye, I'm aware of everything happening in this and every moment—the neon green LOST CAT signs stapled to the necks and torsos of the weeping cherry trees; your Lululemon-clad troop of PTA moms flooding every rosebush with t...
Shortlisted for Contest #173 ⭐️
2006 You’re still there, right where I left you, wrapped up in the yellow wax paper blanket that keeps you warm against the ice-cold breath of the refrigerator. Even now, I still worry about you. In those sudden frantic moments that I cannot immediately locate you, I tear apart my refrigerator, pushing aside the tubs of low-fat yogurt and bottles of diet Snapple, until I find you, my one and only cheeseburger, tucked away in some icy, back corner, breathing in whatever years, days, seconds you have left of your precious, predeterm...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: