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
It was said she was made of words, created from stanzas and lyrical sentences that came to life to form her being. She had always been there, silently tucking books into their proper places, her ocean-blue hair like a bird fluttering between the shelves. She looked young but her eyes were old. Her skin was covered in stories, black and grey and purple ink bleeding into clocks and hearts and names that children would ofte...
It only happens once every ten years. People all over the city gather in the square and turn their heads to watch the rain because the raindrops that fall from the sky on this particular night are unique; they contain memories. I quickly finish getting ready, anticipation writhing through my stomach, and wrap a long emerald scarf around my neck to protect against the winter chill. I have never witnessed a remembrance rai...
TW: self harm Paint a picture with your eyes. Don’t let them see what you’re really thinking. “Are you coming or not?” Midnight opened her eyes and sucked in her breath at her reflection. Golden silk hung in luxurious spirals around her body, and golden bangles jangled up her wrists. Her white hair cascaded over her shoulders, held partially back by a black rose that matched the indigo of her eyes. It would have been beautiful if she...
It all starts in darkness, that primordial womb that throws us into its depths and expects us to claw our way out. In those first few seconds, you open your eyes but it doesn’t make a difference. The darkness is a creature wrapping its cold fingers around you and you are stuck inside its belly with only the sound of your rapid breathing for company. It doesn’t matter how much you shout for help; no one can possibly hear ...
I wasn’t sure when I gained the ability to talk to the dead. People said that I was a normal child, happy, talkative, carefree, as young children tend to be. It was only after the fire that had permanently scarred half of my face that I became quiet, looking into the distance as if I could see another world invisible to everyone but me. I didn’t remember the accident. It was rumored that I died that night, that I passed...
I looked down at my watch and sighed in frustration. My friend was twenty minutes late and counting. Sipping my half-consumed cappuccino that was already lukewarm, I glanced outside the window next to me. It was a beautiful morning, sunny and crisp with the promise of autumn. College students milled about in large groups, chugging frappuccinos and enjoying their last bits of freedom before the start of the school year. ...
Ariel Niforatos has not written a bio yet!
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: