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 #321
The room is a stark and sterile morgue designed for the meticulous work of a forensic pathologist. Stainless steel tables dominate the space, shining under soft overhead lights that create a calm, almost ethereal glow. The air is cool and carries a faint antiseptic smell, adding to the clinical atmosphere. A quiet hum reverberates softly, a reminder of the machines and equipment that assist in the autopsies. Shadows dance gently on the walls, creating an ambiance that feels detached yet strangely comforting to Dr. Samuel Grayson. This enviro...
Submitted to Contest #309
The first time Iris Vance heard her sister's voice again, it came from a shard of glass no bigger than her thumb. It crackled to life as she brushed the dust from the old echo sculpture tucked behind rusted file drawers in a condemned data vault downtown. The sound was faint like something half-remembered underwater. But she knew that laugh. “Evie?” she whispered. A tiny burst of warmth spread from her chest to her fingertips. She hadn’t heard her sister's voice in over fifteen years—not since the fire. Not since the building collapsed with ...
Submitted to Contest #308
They say that on the longest day of the year when the sun clings to the horizon like a ghost afraid to let go, the veil between this world and the next wears thin. In Dwejra, where the sea claws at the limestone cliffs and the wind speaks in riddles, the remnants of the Azure Window still whisper to those who remember. Elira hadn’t planned to return to Gozo. The island held too many memories buried under salt and silence. But after her grandmother passed, no one was left to tend to the old house by the cliffs. So she came back—with the half-...
Submitted to Contest #297
The rain hadn’t stopped in hours. It drummed against the windows of Clara Morgan’s house like impatient fingers. She was curled up on the couch with a book when the doorbell rang—once, sharp and quick. She glanced at the clock. 7:14 p.m. Odd. Clara never received deliveries this late; they usually came in the morning. She padded to the door, peeked through the peephole, and saw no one. Just a tiny brown box on the porch, already soaked from the storm. No truck. No vehicle is driving away. No one was in sight. She grabbed the baseball bat sta...
Submitted to Contest #296
A deafening explosion, fire consuming everything, and people screaming, scattering like ants— Nathan's stomach lurched, and he barely reached the toilet before his dinner reintroduced itself in violent heaves. His forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, grounding him for a moment. The images were still there, burned into his mind like an old film reel set to an endless loop. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was useless. He had seen the future again. Shakily, he reached for one of the water bottles he kept in his bathroom closet, knowin...
Submitted to Contest #293
BOOM! A fiery explosion burst from the bank’s side entrance, engulfing the scene in chaos as Jeb and Cletus bolted through the flames. Clutching bulging money bags, their faces absurdly obscured by pink stockings, they raced through a cacophony of blaring alarms, choking smoke, and panicked screams. They hurled their loot into their battered, rust-riddled blue pickup truck without breaking stride. Jeb stomped on the gas, the engine roaring in protest as the tires screeched, leaving black streaks on the pavement while the truck fishtailed wil...
Submitted to Contest #292
The screen flickered to life, glowing over Oliver Jameson's small, eager face. His fingers twitched around the controller as the opening scene unfolded before him. A towering city of red and gray bricks stretched toward a blocky blue sky. Buildings stacked in perfect symmetry lined the streets, their windows mere studs that glimmered under an unseen sun. A small figure stood in the center of it all. The head was round, a smooth yellow piece with a simple smile stamped across its face. A red and glossy helmet sat atop his head. His square tor...
Submitted to Contest #291
Jason and Eric, standing at the edge of the drainage tunnel, felt a surge of excitement as they prepared to embark on their daring adventure. Their backpacks, slung over one shoulder, and their muddy shoes were a testament to their readiness. The distant chime of the school bell was a mere echo, for school was the last thing on their minds. They were about to enter a world of mystery and danger, an adventure that would make them legends among their peers. "You sure about this?" Eric asked, peering into the gaping mouth of the tunnel. The dar...
Submitted to Contest #290
The bell above the bookshop’s door chimed, announcing her arrival. Claire stepped inside, shaking the rain from her coat, her fingers lingering at the edges of her scarf. The scent of old paper and ink wrapped around her, a comforting embrace. It was a cozy, dimly lit space, with the afternoon light filtering through the dusty windows. It was quieter than usual today, just a low hum of whispers between bookshelves and the occasional rustle of pages turning. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just something to hold in her hands and...
Submitted to Contest #289
Grace awoke to the rhythmic clatter of steel wheels against tracks. The train rocked softly, inducing a strange sense of disorientation in her. It was like a thick fog, enveloping her senses and leaving her feeling lost and helpless. She blinked repeatedly, attempting to align herself as the dim glow of overhead lights cast elongated shadows across the aisle. The shadows revealed rows of empty seats stretching endlessly in both directions, enhancing her feeling of isolation. "I'm on a train; how did I get here?" Grace whispered. She sat up s...
Submitted to Contest #288
“Not again. Not so soon.” Margaret’s whisper carried over the silence of the house. With a fierce grip, she bit her remaining fingernail, tearing a piece off and causing the skin to bleed. Margaret stood at the window as the sky brooded, thick with the weight of an impending storm. Dark clouds churned in slow agony, twisting and folding over themselves as if writhing in torment. This storm, she knew, would continue for days. Long agonizing days. A sharp gust of wind rattled the glass, and she flinched. The leaves outside skittered like restl...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
10 likes
