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
Level Up Your Writing in 2026
January 18, 2026
Previous events
First Impressions: Rocking the First Line and Paragraph
January 12, 2026
Writing a Bingeable Chapter
January 05, 2026
The Rule of Three
December 29, 2025
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 #259
Brooks and Bunker Office Supply was housed in a perfectly normal building at the end of a perfectly normal street. Like clockwork, every morning its parking lot slowly filled with midsized, nondescript sedans. From out of those sedans sober faced, travel coffee cup armed workers dutifully marched up the perfectly regular sidewalk and through the perfectly regular heavy glass doors. Beyond the glass doors, laid beige carpet and white walls in a narrow hallway that led past a reception desk and into a large room full of rows of cubicles....
Submitted to Contest #146
The building was brick and perfectly normal, on a perfectly normal street, in the middle of a perfectly normal town. At first glance or even the second, Tempus Institue didn't look like the type of place housing the world’s most renowned technological advancement. Knowing that it was, and having to face the reality of needing to walk through its perfectly normal front door in just a few short moments, had Gina’s stomach in knots. “If you keep twirling that strand of hair around your finger you're gonna end up with a bald spot.” ...
Submitted to Contest #135
By the summer of Magnolia Hawthorn’s nineteenth birthday, she’d come to understand that “quiet” oftentimes was polite talk for “cowardly.” Maggie, as everyone called her, was born in a small town, the one-horse type, bookended by cow fields, with a stoplight in the middle, and a rumor mill taller than the old water tower. As a child, she’d played in creeks in the sun and caught fireflies in the moonlight, freer than a bird. Her youth had been nothing but peaceful. The trouble with growing up is one day your eyes focus and you realize you’ve ...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: