Advice, insights and news
Free 10-day publishing courses
Free publishing webinars
Free EPUB & PDF typesetting tool
Launch your book in style
Assemble a team of pros
A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
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 h...
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...
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 t...
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 melti...
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...
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 ir...
Here to write. Here's not Reedsy. Here's World.
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: