reedsymarketplace
Hire professionals for your project
reedsyblog
Advice, insights and news
reedsylearning
Online publishing courses
reedsylive
Free publishing webinars
reedsydiscovery
Launch your book in style
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
Submitted to Contest #57
The sun was particularly harsh today but the pickles seemed happy and bubbly, yawning as I opened the lids of their jars to spread them out. Their cheerfulness rubbed off on me too. The secret consignment of mangoes that I had received that morning was also partially responsible for my joy. It had been raining for days on end, a spell that made one wonder if the sun had somehow been extinguished by a gutsy gale. But it had now returned and brought along with it the hope of father's return. He had been gone for a month now. Clearly, t...
Submitted to Contest #56
Ava's naturally curly hair tumbled out of the wig as she yanked it off for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Next came off the chunky, dark glasses. Just as she was about to wipe off the shadow of a kohl moustache from her otherwise waxed upper lip, she changed her mind again. She wanted to follow through on what she thought was a genius plan, but a nagging voice in her head, which curiously sounded a lot like her friend Ashley's, kept telling her to not mess this up. "You're 33! For Chrissakes get yourself a decent guy," she mimicked to...
Submitted to Contest #54
She re-read the letter in front of her, not that she didn't already know its contents by heart by now. It wasn't after all everyday that you received a proposal for a rebirth. Well, of sorts, anyway. She fixed herself a drink--More gin, less tonic--and read it out aloud, to her cat this time... Hello Andrea, We won't ask you how you are doing because we know the answer. We have been monitoring your life since the past few years and know that you would rather be dead than live a life of fading popularity. So, we are offering to ki...
Submitted to Contest #53
I'm only vaguely aware of the person talking next to me as I watch my orange popsicle drip down, drop by drop, from between my legs into the sea below. I look to my right, at the swarm of people perched on the cliff. If all of them had a popsicle in their hand and let it drip into the ocean, the water would turn tangerine. At sunset it would appear like a huge blob of orange popsicle, dropped by a careless kid, was melting into the sea. Then we would have amber clouds and champagne rain and saffron rivers. And perhaps we would all be salmon-...
Submitted to Contest #52
Once upon a time, in the beautiful town of Paintstopia lived a little boy named Tim. And though the town was full of colourful characters, the story is really about him.In all of his seven years on earth, little Tim had never once learned to colour right. But, for all his callousness, he loved to colour. And the colours loved him back. Colours red, yellow, blue and those resulting from mixing those hues rejoiced as he scribbled and splashed, etched and daubed across the boring white page.Boxes and boxes of crayons, tubes and bottles of paint...
December 19, 2020The lid is loud as it slams the box shut, taunting my indecision to open it. I try again, this time pushing it back all the way, my arthritic joints squeaking in protest. The stubborn hinges relent, revealing the meagre contents of the chest--a wispy veil of mist and magic. I lift it out of its blue velvet cage and almost hear a rustle of complaining. It's been a while. It glows in the dimly-lit room as I hold it close to my face, drinking in the intoxicating fragrance that's a delicious cross between irises and eternity, wi...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: