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 Jan, 2025
Submitted to Contest #290
'I'm right behind you, I [REDACTED] you.''Those were your words, were they not Mr. Morton?'The prosecuting barrister. That jumped-up, mid-tier hack in his perfectly pressed KC's robes and a horsehair wig that somehow made him look even more like a prat. He was really pressing the point. Wanted to catch me out, make me say the word back to him. The one that had gotten me into this mess. Had gotten her into this mess...'Those are definitely words,' I replied, somewhat sarcastically and with that childish sense of impudence you got when you had...
Submitted to Contest #289
The room is unfamiliar. I don't know how I got here. Even after fourteen thousand, five hundred and seventy-two days, this perfect two-metre cube remains as alien to me as the moment I arrived. At some point, I was placed in this sharp, aggressive box. This prison. It is all I know – all I have – yet it remains entirely foreign to me. All I can see, all I can visualise is its obsessive-compulsive right angles creating an illusion of shadows that dance in the bright, white light. On the wall is a digital timer, though I doubt it's...
Submitted to Contest #288
In the pouring, soaking, sodding rain I stood. Like an absolute lemon. Frozen in place for twenty...thirty minutes until eventually some old lady stopped and prodded me.'Everything alright, love?' she asked with a tone that reminded me of my nan. Warm, concerned.'Huh?' I mumbled, still dazed.'You've been standing there quite a while, since before I popped into the shops.'By 'the shops', she meant the little Tesco Express just behind us. Its bright, white hospital lights bounced off the rain-soaked streets, sparkling across each droplet like ...
Submitted to Contest #287
'D'ya wanna brew?' Really? A brew? A fucking brew. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Go on then, I thought, pour me a cuppa. Let's pretend for a bit. Easy peasy. Grab the mug. The Yorkshire Gold – Dad's favourite, the one he'd insist on having even in hospital. Pour the boiling water, watch the dark swirl rise like a storm. Add the whole milk, because why the hell not. Quell the storm. Stir some sugar. Watch the vortex for a second, or two. Nice. Thanks for the tea. James stared at me, his expression softening as I stood frozen, fingers pressed aga...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: