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 Nov, 2021
1) Start fresh and carry onCongratulations, you beautiful breathing thing. Stray bullets from the celebratory gunshots missed your skin on New Year’s Eve. The curfew applauds your compliance, and as promised, you’ve reaped safety.Now, put out that cigarette. You know he despises the sting of your bitter breath—as if his strikes anyone like a wreath of roses. Those “welcome home” kisses bring about the exchange, and his demand repeated through time builds up in volume. This year, don’t wa...
Covering her ears, she watched the clock. No burst of sound must catch her off guard. Ever.Tick. Tick. Tick.The final bell rang. Susie charged into the traffic of students, slipping past their shoulders. Upon seeing Mrs. Marghast’s office, she stopped and peeked through the glass. Her guidance counselor and friend, with her back to the door, fixed a few of the little things hanging on the wall. Susie closed her eyes, her hand feeling the doorknob.Mrs. Marghast turned around as a hinge squeaked from behind. He...
I looked up at its façade, looked back down to my phone, then looked up again. The photo matched. Expectation equaled reality. “Today’s Diner,” I whispered, reading the sickly sign. “Why? Is it gone tomorrow?” I got the place right, yes, but I had no idea why Mom—who loved the company of heavenly cuisine, sparkling ambiance, and f...
Haste and tumbles layered the floors of roller skate discos, long lines in restaurants barely moved, and house parties brought the noise. Friday night had arrived at last, and Hunter, with his clean afro and chocolate skin, was on his way to get a gulp of that good time. His squad of bros from high school waited for him near the ticket booth, hoping to get good seats.After the explosive film, they played rounds of bowling on the mall’s basement floor. Sad scores broke out c...
“The worst of fears acts like a contagion,” my mom, the bookkeeper, used to say, “like a rumor that seeks a wider audience.” Slam... Slam... Slam... The doors of our small town on a cliff sliced winds short, acting on their purpose, which was to shut out the unwanted. The fog had arrived with the evening, weighing down ou...
Written by Maynard Maxwell—the credits of three record-breaking shows were quite familiar with these words. Millions of people had seen what a British scriptwriter living in California can do. Maynard himself had been doing fine with his wits and talent alone. He had a huge, two-story apartment; a smashing view; and a glossy BMW parked in his own parking spot. He, of course, had friends...
Noah fought to find refuge, dragging his ski boots through the snow. Winds kept throwing punches ever since rapid snow filled the evening sky. Doomed to walk the distance, Noah kept holding on to one ski as if it had life to spare; the other one stayed broken, sticking out like a thorn from his backpack. His eyes, holding on to a shard of visibility, never strayed from an image on the snow—a tal...
A graphic artist, a musician, and a writer. :)
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: