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
Writing Sprint Session #2
February 18, 2026
Crafting Cinematic Characters
February 16, 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, 2023
Edwin paces across the stone floor. His hands twist over the sheath that holds his sword. They drip with his sweat. His breath comes in gasp and he can feel his heart pounding in his head. Outside his window, the townspeople gather. He hears their grumbling rising in volume. They are looking to him to handle the job. It is a job he doesn’t want. He is Sir Edwin, Knight of the Village of Fife. The dragon is in a cave right outside the village. His job, Nae his responsibility, is to kill it. “Sir Edwin, the townspeople await.” The king’s...
“No!” She screams in the mirror, “I won’t!” The mirror has no sympathy. It simply reflects what it sees. Her wild, unkempt hair, her wide eyes, her snarling mouth, are shown back to her. She hates the look. It wasn’t to be this way. He was planned. Most assume he wasn’t. Her own granny spoke for the majority when she said, “Babies having babies.” at finding out her granddaughter was expecting. She was almost twenty -one, for goodness sakes! No baby. That is what she thought. Her son was born on an early July night. She holds perfect...
“Not even close.” He answers for the hundredth time, or so it would seem. How did he end up here, in a car trip with his children and wife, heading back home? Oh, he knows the logistics of it. His father is dying and they need to say goodbye. That isn’t the whole story though. “We have hours to go.” “What an hour?” Two years old Hannah asks. His wife, calmer then he is, answers her. “An episode of Sesame Street.” He smiles at her but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t want to be doing this. Why did his old man have to pick now to ...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: