🎉 Our next novel writing master class starts in –! Claim your spot →
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 Oct, 2021
Submitted to Contest #136
I climb the hard aluminum stairs with as much conviction as I can muster. People around me jeer and cry things out that seem to bounce off my ears. "You can’t do it!" "It's a suicide mission!" "Why are you doing this?!" I raise myself higher, step by step. Until I stand facing The sleek metal bulk of the spaceship. As I sink into the soft leathery seat. Wrapping myself in various belts and buckles designed to keep me from not dying, I freeze. For the first time I'm having second thoughts. Why AM I doing this? When I first volunteered to go ...
Submitted to Contest #132
Are you there, god? It's me. I could really use your help right now, stuck in a sticky desk behind a hard door labeled detention. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Stupid Thomas Halloway’s Stupid Sandwich, but it’s too late for that now. A pink sheet of paper that sits neatly on the desk in front of me holds several lines of text. It reads:   Detention exit ticket: Explain why you are in detention. Explain why you won’t repeat the offense.  It’s standard, and the nerve of sitting in this room for the first time is replac...
Submitted to Contest #120
Sun dances on my eyelids, and I don't want to open my eyes. Birdsong lulls me to a drifty sort of space, softly, slowly. I give a soft smile as I- “BAM!!!” My door swings open and my eyes are peeled open by a five-year-old sitting on my chest. Soft yellow curls fall on my cheeks and tickle my nose. I hide my face in my hands to avoid any more little-sister-harassment while I peek through my fingers at the clock. The hands point to eight in the morning and I sigh. “Listen, little lady! I say as I tap my sister's nose, You've made me lose pr...
Submitted to Contest #115
​The epitome of average is Tuesday. It's not Monday, the beginning of the week, not Wednesday in the middle of the weekly drama, just Tuesday. It was summer break and the kitchen counter wasn't even close to being spotless as usual, random items scattered across the surface. But something caught my eye, something that wasn't there before. There was a postcard sitting peacefully on a small patch of clear counter. It was addressed to our house but there was no return address, no message, and no date.    The picture portraye...
Cassidy Gray has not written a bio yet!
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: