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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2026
The mail slot in the door marked B4 didn’t clatter; it growled. Julian didn’t look up from his hands, tightly clutching a stack of letters dated years ago. He sat on the edge of a mattress that had long ago sunk into a perfect mold of his lower back, listening to the letters falling one by one onto the linoleum. Slap. Slap. Slap. He determined their source by the sound they made. The thin, crisp ones were from his credit card company; square-shaped letters with cellophane wrapping that framed his name and address like a wanted poster. ...
Weekly Contest #364
The tallow of this candle is old and cracking, and for that I can barely see the blank papers in front of me. Please forgive me if my lettering is rough, for the light is dim and outside I can hear their distant shouts, which compels me to write as quickly as possible.My name is Nicholas Graham. At this moment I lie squeezed between the heavy beam and rickety loft of the old Miller’s barn, clutching a stick of charcoal as if it is my last hope. Reluctantly I must admit it is; for if I do not scribble my story upon these ancient leaves, the l...
Weekly Contest #349
I was lost. The darkness whispered against me, pressing down upon my shoulders like a burden of sin. In every direction spread the endless host of dark trees and thick foliage as far as the eye could see. Ripping and tearing, I pushed my way through the undergrowth, struggling against the strong hold of fear by focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other. I wasn’t making any progress. The further I traveled, the clearer the path became, and even my aching head understood that I was going in circles. Walking through the same t...
Weekly Contest #348
Run, girl, run.A harsh, raspy voice echoed in a young girl’s ears, unfamiliar and unseen. She looked up from her doll, startled.The girl was a pretty thing, with long black hair the color of raven’s wings and eyes red as twin rubies. Her face was the color of milk, first with heritage and then from unease. “Who’s there?”The voice wavered, trembled, as if haunted – or haunting.Run. It is coming.The girl looked about her, but there was nothing more than a crude table, two chairs, and a fireplace in the small, square room. “W-who’s there? Hello...
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