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
Layer by Layer: How to Edit Your Book
July 19, 2026
How To Be More Productive as a Writer
July 06, 2026
Level Up the Structure of Your Story
June 29, 2026
Writing Memoir with Nathan Dunne
June 22, 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 Aug, 2019
Weekly Contest #105
Friday, August 5, 2021, 12:22 pm. Evidence. Exhibit A. Eyewitness #1.Format: Audio Recording.My name is Tommy “The Hammer” McGee. You might have heard of me. I won the Golden Gloves in 2001 and 2002. I still box a little, but nowadays, I’m an interpreter. I can speak like nine languages. Ma said that getting hit in the head over and over would turn me into a moron, but maybe it whacked something into place—Tafahma?So, the reason I was at the bank this morning was to deposit my paycheck. I had a med-interp gig down at Baptist. ...
Weekly Contest #104
I wanted to tell Kaitlyn to keep it down, but she just kept running her mouth. Dave’s Diner marked the last stop for a hundred miles before we reached the Cadillac Farm in Amarillo, Texas. Older couples and day laborers filled the surrounding booths, but they were keeping their conversations to themselves. Kaitlyn, on the other hand, exploded with laughter at the slightest suggestion of anything remotely funny.“Why did the vegan cross the road?” Kaitlyn said.“I . . . I dunno,” I said.“To tell everyone on the other si...
Weekly Contest #103
Jacob’s Ford Wagon lacked motor mounts. It shook when he drove it. Jacob’s curiosity as to how long he could actually drive this P.O.S. outweighed his need for a new car, but only slightly. A month ago, Jacob’s father, Adrian, had a panic attack while Jacob and he were idling at a stop light, the car vibrating wildly. “Get me outta here!” Adrian said, gripping the oh-shit handle with one hand and palming dashboard with the other. Last week, Adrian’s attending doctor ruled his cause of death a “Massive Ischemia.” A blood clot prevented o...
Weekly Contest #102
Through his shoes and into his knees, Jamie felt his skateboard vibrate as he slid across the top of a park bench in Greenhill Park. Upon landing, he turned against the grain of the asphalt, powersliding to a stop. “Yes!” he said. He removed his helmet, swooped his hair out of his face, and smiled. Jamie had been trying to land a railslide all summer without totally wrecking himself. Jamie looked ahead, just beyond the park, to Mr. Winwood’s house. In a neighborhood bridled by yellow and tan homes, Mr. Winwood’s dark mahogany haunt...
Weekly Contest #101
A single bead of sweat rolled down Zeke’s soiled forehead as he hammered a rivet into the side of the silo. He dropped his hammer into the dirt and ran his hand over the curved aluminum siding. Zeke let out a long exhale.When he was in his twenties, Zeke loved to correct people over the classification of wheat. The setup was simple. Whenever Zeke was at a party and people got to making small talk about what they did, he mentioned that he designed grain elevators. Someone would pontificate, “Wheat is a type of grass,” to which Zeke would reto...
Weekly Contest #100
The scent of freshly crushed garlic wafted over the candlelit tables of Braddington’s Seafood Grille. The low light masked the brilliant, polished concrete floor upon which Nova’s Sketchers made no sound. Sherri, the hostess, guided Nova to a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Sherri stopped mid-stride and Nova nearly bumped in to her. “Sorry,” Sherri said, turning to explain. “I got a text.”“No worries,” Nova said. “Here you are,” Sherri said, guiding Nova to the table where Ethan sat, staid and waiting. Sherri return...
Weekly Contest #98
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Edward counted nine stalks of bamboo growing out of the small planter that lived on his kitchen counter. Edward unlocked his iPhone and opened the Compass app. “Perfect,” he said to himself. The front of the lucky bamboo stand faced east. The kitchen timer pealed. The aroma of freshly baked eggplant parmesean filled Edward’s urban highrise apartment. He pulled the casserole from the oven, placed it on a four-leaf clover shaped trivet, and covered the dish in foil. The digital clock ...
Weekly Contest #97
The sun had not yet roared into the sky. A Mapleton City Police cruiser rushed along on Chisholm Chapel Road. Sarge drove. Denny rode shotgun. Sarge smoothed his thick mustache with his thumb. Denny reached around his side to itch his back fat. The sun began to push reds and oranges through the blue morning horizon. “She didn’t see who broke it?” Denny asked.“Didn’t say. She was pretty upset,” Sarge said.Sunlight began to creep over the trees. Sarge and Denny put on aviators, almost simultaneously. A beam of light hit a nick on the...
Weekly Contest #96
Black sheets of rain tore across Jack’s front yard. Snug in the warmth of his living room, Jack looked up. A deluge pounded the ceiling. Jack sat in his Astor Velvet reading chair. The downpour sounded like an amateur drum circle had converged on his roof. Jack went back to his book, The Argonautica. King Amycus had just knocked out three more of Jason’s shipmen. So much for Xenia, Jack thought. Jack began reading The Argonautica because he wanted to enjoy an old-timey greek myth, but he was burnt out on the&nbs...
Weekly Contest #91
Malcolm’s skin tingled. He felt like he had just swallowed a bowling ball. “Malcolm, did you hear me?”Malcolm snapped out of the shock of TK’s news long enough to answer, “Yes, TK.” Malcolm paused. “Are you sure? Why?”“Malcolm, it’s not you. It’s me. I need some space.”“I hear you, but . . . why do you need to break up with me to have some space?” “That’s what breaking up is.”“Well, if you need space, maybe I could, you know, be supportive. I don’t know.” “I can’t explain it, Malcolm. I just need to be alone for a while.”Malco...
Weekly Contest #90
A sandpiper scurried up from the ocean. It nipped at the hunk of bread dangling from Malcolm’s hand. Malcolm had fallen asleep in his beach chair. “Hey!” Malcolm said to the sandpiper. The tiny bird scurried back toward the water with a chunk of Malcolm’s baguette in its beak.“You OK?” TK said. “Yeah. Damn bird.” “Seltzer?”“Sure.”Tatiana Karenina handed her husband, Malcolm P. Sharpe, a glass bottle of homemade seltzer. The cool bottle beaded with condensation. Malcolm up nodded, turned the cap, listened for the fizz, and took...
Weekly Contest #89
Yesterday I left my apartment at 7:15 am, as usual. I was looking forward to grabbing a cup-a-joe from Raphael’s before getting to work by 8. As I turned the key to lock my door, I heard Jethro behind me. He was leaving his apartment for the day, too. “Good morning, Jeth,” I said. Jethro said nothing and avoided making eye contact with me. His dirty blond hair was as wild as ever, but his machismo had been replaced by a hunched over posture. He looked at the ground and crammed his hands into his pockets. “C’mon, Jeth. This ain...
Weekly Contest #88
Once upon a time, a monkey named Rory lived in a jungle. Rory’s jungle was particularly dark and especially terrible—full of flesh eating fish, savage spiders, and cunning crocodiles.Rory resided with a troop of gargantuan silver back gorillas. The troop adopted Rory after a bask of crocodiles ate his tribe. (By the way, a “bask” is a group of land crocodiles, while a “float” is a group of water crocodiles.) Carl, the alpha gorilla, protected Rory from the evils of the wicked jungle, but not without remuneration. In exchage for Carl’s protec...
Weekly Contest #87
I’ve been waiting a year for this day. I sit at the bar, chew on peanuts, and swill the last of a Pabst Blue Ribbon. It’s 2:59 pm. The ceremony is about to begin. The Steelers just scored a touchdown. The sports bar jumps with cheer. Five bucks says, right about now, she’s thinking about peaking her head out of the bride’s room just to see what all the commotion is about. When she does emerge from that soft shelter, she’ll shield her eyes from the altar. She can’t see me before the ceremony—that would be bad luck. “I’ll take anot...
Weekly Contest #86
The elevator pealed and Malcolm stepped into the lobby of Inglethorpe & Cavendish. He was the first to arrive that Monday morning. Natasha Marakova, the receptionist, usually greeted Malcolm every morning, but today, instead of Natasha’s welcoming presence, a bouquet of roses brightened the room from atop Natasha’s desk. Malcolm looked closer at the bouquet. “To Natasha, Thank you for a lovely evening. From Gregory,” was printed on a white card tied to one of the ten rose stems. Malcolm raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and wal...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
11 likes
