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 Apr, 2021
Submitted to Contest #109
Mr Tiggs searched endlessly for his tea towel, until he spotted in the mirror that it was stuck to his back. Bother these bristles! Taking the tongs he kept especially for such circumstances, he removed the tea towel and proceeded to dry the polished acorn cups, before setting one down on the low round dining table. He poured himself a cup of nettle tea, and settled into his most comfortable armchair. The bright early morning sun streamed in through the window as he leant back in his chair, casting an eye around the neat walls of his cosy bu...
Submitted to Contest #108
It wasn’t the acrid smell of the smoke drifting into my bed corner which woke me, nor was it the heat of the flames or the cries of the villagers fleeing for their lives. It was Otis, my faithful weasel who saved my life that night. He had snuck into my pocket as usual to share my warmth as I lay curled up on the straw mattress, and it was the sharp nip of his teeth on my finger which alerted me to the danger which I was in. I awoke with a start, disorientated. The small hut was already full of smoke, and ghostly red flames were licking thei...
Submitted to Contest #105
JacobI lift the heavy brass knocker and announce my presence three times, rat tat tat, then step back to wait, my mind alternating between the theme for my sermon tomorrow evening and the glass of sherry which sits undrunk on the little table next to my armchair. A man of God stands in the service of his parishioners and it is his duty and pleasure to serve, I remind myself, so I push back against my feelings of irritation about being called out at such a late hour, and focus instead on what on earth could have caused Sir Charles to call me ...
Submitted to Contest #104
I trace the delicate twist and stroke of her handwriting as though my fingers are tracing the contours of her face, running down the sharp outline of her cheek, the swirls of the letters reminding me of the intricate curls of her jet-black hair. I treat the paper it’s written on reverently, as though it’s a precious parchment which could crumble into the dust of a thousand years. Are you coming tonight? Her handwriting is unmistakable. The words have the power to invoke memories of her which I had thought were long drowned, but now seem to h...
Submitted to Contest #103
The falling leaves danced like butterflies in the late summer breeze, tumbling and twisting around the young man as he sat in contemplation. He appeared not to notice, his eyes focussed on the letter clutched in his right hand. He was charged with delivering this letter to Eringard, although at this moment in time he couldn’t say with certainty who or what Eringard was. He knew though that this road would eventually lead him there, and he would ask for directions as and when the opportunity arose. He stowed the letter away in the inside pock...
Submitted to Contest #101
Moonlight illuminated the pale face of the young girl as she flitted like a ghost between the columns of the temple. She was barefoot, but the paving stones still held the remaining warmth of the day. The night was still, the quiet only broken by the song of a lone cicada somewhere in the distance. She looked around her to make sure she was unobserved, then darted across the open courtyard to a column on the opposite side. She stood now with the back against the stonework, the solid gravity of the structure in stark contrast to her slim waif...
Shortlisted for Contest #99 ⭐️
Nature held its breath before the sunrise, and the expectation of magic and possibilities hung heavy in the cool morning air. A light mist lay over the long grass covering the hill. The sky was lightening to the east; it promised to be a warm midsummers day. A rabbit hopped cautiously out of its burrow and sniffed the air, ears erect and twitching left and right for the sound of possible enemies – a fox perhaps, or an owl returning from its nightly hunting. But it was absolutely still this morning; even the birds sensed this moment was speci...
Submitted to Contest #98
Jeramiah was dreaming. The day was pleasant, the warm sun making the ground shimmer with a promise of summer and long lazy afternoons where there is nothing to do apart from to be, and be glad that you are part of this wonderful whole. The dream amplified his feelings of contentment until the whole scene seemed to glow; every green was a more intense shade of green than is usual in the more mundane waking reality, every blade of grass was sharper and more pronounced, and the sky was a shade of blue that was almost beyond description. Jeramia...
Submitted to Contest #97
“Are you sure it’s tonight, Thrimble?” asked the mayor, adding a third spoonful of sugar to his tea. He stirred the warm brew around in the delicate porcelain tea cup, carefully balancing it in the matching saucer before making himself comfortable in the soft brown leather armchair. This was his favourite chair in the study, and as the professor was busy in the other room, he saw no reason not to avail himself of its inviting form. Taking a sip of tea, he looked around wonderingly at the numerous books, maps and instruments the professor had...
Submitted to Contest #96
The hedgerow rustled with life as the man walked alongside. Insects droned in the warm evening air, dancing in zigzag patterns that perhaps formed a secret communication, but he had never worked it out. A blackbird warbled it’s throaty and melodious song from somewhere nearby, and was answered by a companion in the distance. He could hear a small creature, probably a mouse, scampering in the undergrowth to his left. It emerged, scuttling across his path before diving into the other hedgerow on the opposite side. Everything should be right wi...
Submitted to Contest #95
Two doors. That’s the first thing I register as I enter the room slowly, and a familiar feeling of uncertainty starts to make it’s presence known in the pit of my stomach. The feeling will spread if I let it, creeping down into my legs to turn my muscles into useless jelly so that I can hardly stand. Then it will move upwards into my chest, constricting my lungs until I have to fight to draw a single breath. It will continue it’s journey upwards, pulling my shoulders and neck tight as though an invisible hand draws a needle and thread throug...
Submitted to Contest #94
The man kept glancing over his shoulder as he ran, looking up at the darkening clouds with consternation. He mustn’t be too late. His boots squelched in the mud as he hurried along the country lane, his long black coat flapping madly behind him. His step hardly changed as he got to the stile. With one hand on the gatepost, he stamped his left foot down on the bottom step and launched himself over with one heave, twisting his body to land firmly on both feet, facing the way he had come. Wasting no time, he spun round and carried on running ac...
Submitted to Contest #93
Colours - red, blue, yellow, the blue sky, people running, shouting, warm, sunshine, laughter. It’s too much to take in at first, so I simply close my eyes and wait, then open them later, I’m not sure when. The sky is blue, there are children running, some are wearing masks. There are colourful flags flying, buildings are draped in bunting, red, yellow, so I think it must be some sort of carnival or festival today. I look down at my hand, and see that something is written there. “St Martins, 3pm, Stephen”. I am puzzled by this, as I don’t re...
Submitted to Contest #92
I can feel the house mocking me long before I see it. Its presence seems to infuse the landscape, tainting the bleak heath with tendrils of ink seeping deep into the roots of the trees. It whispers to me in the long grass swept to and fro by the same wind which sends the dark clouds scurrying across the gloomy sky, as though they too don’t want to linger long in this dismal place.I look across at my mother. She doesn’t seem to be affected by the landscape, or the prospect of being cut off from the outside world for two long weeks. She keeps ...
Submitted to Contest #91
James wasn’t trying to look furtive, he really wasn’t. In fact, he was trying his best not to look furtive, but somehow he always seemed to exude furtiveness in whatever activity he was engaged in, which happened to be at the moment striding down the main avenue towards the park. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his oversize jacket, the collar turned up to ward off the autumnal chill which had settled over the town this evening. His trousers were also oversized, but luckily he had a piece of string to hold them up, and ...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
22 likes
