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
Landing Your Literary Agent
November 22, 2026
How to Self-publish a Bestseller in 2026
September 05, 2026
Apostrophes, Dashes and Colons, Oh My!
August 03, 2026
Reading with a Writer's Eye
July 27, 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 Jun, 2023
Claire Chen hadn't believed in omens until the morning she found the black cat sitting on her welcome mat. It was Tuesday, exactly three years since her grandmother's funeral, and the cat's yellow eyes held an unsettling intelligence that made her coffee-deprived brain stutter to full alertness. "Shoo," she said halfheartedly, knowing even as she spoke that the cat wouldn't move. It didn't. Instead, it studied her with the kind of patience that suggested she was the one being unreasonable. The cat was sleek and well-groomed, definitely not a...
Maya folded paper cranes when she was afraid, which meant there were exactly 1,847 of them in her apartment. She kept count, recording each one in a small notebook by her bed. The newest crane – number 1,848 – was taking shape beneath her fingers now, its wings slowly emerging from a square of midnight blue paper as she sat in the hospital waiting room. "Ms. Chen?" A nurse appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Your mother's asking for you." Maya's fingers stilled on the half-formed crane. "How is she?" "Stable. The surgery went well."...
Weekly Contest #274
Professor Helen Blackwood had always assumed that if fate wanted to change your life, it would use grand gestures – lottery wins, chance meetings, natural disasters. But as she stood in the foyer of her late aunt's Victorian mansion, holding a letter that seemed to mock her with its impossible demands, she realized the truth: fate is resourceful. Sometimes all it needs is an empty house and an old woman's peculiar will. The house loomed around her, its high ceilings disappearing into shadow despite the morning light streaming through tall wi...
Even at thirty-four, Sarah Mitchell couldn't shake the urge to run between streetlights at night. The compulsion lived in her muscles, a childhood reflex as deeply ingrained as looking both ways before crossing the street. During the day, she was a successful architect with her own firm, known for her innovative designs and meticulous attention to detail. But after sunset, she became that scared eight-year-old again, counting the pools of light that would guide her home. Her therapist called it a residual anxiety response. "Many adults retai...
Morgan Chen had worked maintenance at Evergreen Apartments for twelve years, and in all that time, she'd never received a work order quite like this one. The digital ticket simply read: "Strange sounds + smell from pipes under kitchen sink. NOT regular blockage. Please investigate ASAP." The request came from unit 437, occupied by old Mrs. Whitaker, who'd lived in the building even longer than Morgan had worked there. Mrs. Whitaker wasn't one for hyperbole or unnecessary maintenance calls. If anything, she was known for trying to fix things ...
My grandmother haunts the church basement on Tuesday nights. I've seen her there between the metal folding chairs and ancient coffee urns, her silhouette flickering under fluorescent lights that buzz like dying insects. She wears the same powder blue cardigan she was buried in, the one with mother-of-pearl buttons that catch the light like tiny moons. The others can't see her, of course. They just feel a sudden chill when they walk through the spot where she stands, or catch the phantom scent of her Shalimar perfume mixing with the burnt cof...
Dr. Elena Reyes adjusted her lab coat, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles as she stood before the imposing steel door. The sign above read "Project Prometheus" in stark, black letters. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. "You ready?" Dr. Marcus Chen, her colleague and friend, gave her a reassuring smile. Elena nodded, swiping her keycard. The door hissed open, revealing a state-of-the-art laboratory humming with activity. Banks of computers lined the walls, their screens displaying a dizzying array of data. At the c...
Weekly Contest #273
Eliza Thorne stared at the crisp white envelope in her hand, her heart racing. No return address, just her name in elegant script. She slid her finger under the flap, extracting a single card: *Your presence is requested at The Convergence.**11:11 PM, June 21st**The old lighthouse on Raven's Point**Come alone. Tell no one.* Eliza's mind whirled. The Convergence? She'd heard whispers, urban legends really, about a secret society pulling strings behind the scenes. But surely that was just conspiracy theory nonsense? Yet here was an invitation....
I can't believe I'm actually writing this down. For years, I've carried this secret, letting it gnaw at me from the inside. But after what happened today, I need to get it out somehow. Even if it's just on these pages that no one will ever read. It all started ten years ago, when I was fresh out of college and eager to make my mark on the world. I landed a job at Meridian Technologies, a rising star in the tech world. I was thrilled, ready to prove myself. Little did I know that decision would change everything. May 20, 2024 I saw him today....
Dr. Emily Chen's footsteps echoed through the empty corridors of Blackwood Psychiatric Hospital. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting dancing shadows on the peeling walls. As the new head psychiatrist, she had volunteered to do a final walkthrough before the old building's demolition next week. The hospital had been abandoned for nearly two decades, its patients transferred to modern facilities after a series of unexplained deaths. Emily had read the reports, each more disturbing than the last. Patients found in their rooms, fa...
Weekly Contest #272
Sarah's hand trembled as she inserted the key into the lock of her new home. The old Victorian house loomed over her, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the manicured lawns of the neighboring properties. At 28, she never imagined she'd be able to afford such a place, especially in this upscale neighborhood. But the price had been surprisingly low, and the real estate agent had been almost too eager to close the deal. As the door creaked open, a musty odor assaulted her nostrils. Sarah wrinkled her nose, making a mental note to air out ...
Weekly Contest #249
The late afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky as Sara pulled onto the lonely, two-lane highway. She was already running behind schedule, but she had an important business meeting in the city that she couldn't miss. Taking the back roads would shave 20 minutes off her travel time compared to sticking to the interstate. At least, that was the plan. Sara hummed along to the driving beats of the pop song playing on the radio as she watched the flat Nebraska landscape whiz by. After an hour of smooth driving across the desolate prairie, she...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
1 like
