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 Oct, 2021
Submitted to Contest #260
TW: DEATH FRIDAYTGIF, am I right? Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re probably thinking, Great, another complete cliche of this generation: a gaming-mad degenerate who speaks in gibberish and simply lives for the weekend.I’d say “Abso-frigging-lutely.” Except I’m certainly not a 90s kid, and gaming isn’t my forte. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Someone’s got to do the 9-5, sharing a cardboard cut-out desk with Jim from Accounting and his half-dead cactus. But that life won’t cut it for me.Hey, I caught that eye roll.I mean, the thing is, I d...
Submitted to Contest #232
1023 P.N 21:00 I failed. I failed Her. And now I am running, chest heaving, stumbling over peaked dunes, kicking up the red dirt on Surface Hill, aware of the shouts and pounding feet behind me. My heavy sack bangs against my legs and I consider tossing it into a crate, but the precious cargo within will take me an eternity to gain back. I have a lengthy run ahead - over a mile, across unstable Surface terrain, down sandy banks, through my hole in the boundary fence back into the Depths, then along backstreets until I reach my ...
Submitted to Contest #200
LIBBY On Monday at 10:00, I slapped my long overdue resignation letter onto my supervisor’s desk at the Daily Horn. By 11:30, Billy Brenden’s decaying corpse had been unearthed on the Tuldark Estate renovation site. By noon, with plenty of fresh coffee and pastries to sweeten the deal, Rowena Parrot, said supervisor, had convinced me that God was at work and the discovery was the Horn’s ticket to salvation. And at 13:00, I had flung a handful of croissants and my crumpled letter, onto the passenger seat of my father’s old Volvo, swung in an ...
Submitted to Contest #199
As my right knuckle connects with the door the third time, I realise my keys are clasped in my left first, but both of my hands are shaking. I hear Mum’s movement inside, shouting that she’ll be there in a sec and I hear the slam of an oven door and the pitter patter of her slippers. Her face is first expectant, then confused, then concerned. “Mary-Jane?” she says as my knees give way and I fall without a word at her feet. ————— I’d told her it was just a little break. A trip to the coast, in need of a little sun on my face. You’re look...
Submitted to Contest #148
They call me the Madam of the place, but personally, I can't stand that title. Madam? I mean what is that?When you hear that title, how would you picture the person in question - physically I mean? I guess you might envision someone wide set, full in the chest, miserable in the mouth, excessive in the jowls and untrusting in the eyes? Perhaps in the second half of their years, with wisps of greying hair highlighted through a taut elaborate low bun?Let’s talk skin - would you think pale, olive or dark? And what about voice - would you ex...
Visiting hours were almost over, but Mitch knew the receptionist had a weakness for freshly baked oatmeal cookies from Mama’s across the street. Ten minutes, Isabella mouthed as she hid the bright pink box beneath her station and jerked her head towards the lifts. Mitch jostled with the other box in his arms, bigger and pinker, held together with white ribbon and took the steps two at a time. Room 27 was quiet and shrouded in darkness, but when he cracked the door open, the corridor lights cast a glow across his little sister’s face and ...
Submitted to Contest #142
‘You promised.’ Juliet thought her voice wouldn't betray her disappointment, but it did. It came out like a whimper, small and pathetic. She cringed and swiped at her wind swept hair, currently invading her vision, so that she could keep her eyes locked on her betrayer. Romeo looked back at her, across the table, a small smile flickering on the corner of his mouth. He opened his arms out and rested them on the tops of the lounger he sat on, slouching. ‘What’s the harm in one more?’ he drawled, rolling his eyes slowly in a circle. Juliet sh...
Submitted to Contest #133
HIM - PRESENT Even with the barrel of the gun pressed to my left temple, I still crack a smile. She looks at me, through her thick blonde lashes and a frown creases on her brow. The barrel twists against my head, pinching my flesh. “What’s funny?” she snarls. I shrug. “When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile,” I say, my eyes landing on the velvet red box on the table between us. It is heart shaped, infuriatingly basic, an eye sore even to the purest romantic. Within the folds of the deep red tissue papers sit 16 circular choco...
Submitted to Contest #131
We sit at the table every night, in the exact same places. Ma on my right at the head, on the chair with the arm rests, Chaarun on Ma’s right, little Cody next to him, and Coffey next to me. When I’m lying in bed at night, Chaarun asleep beside me, I like to replay dinnertime over and over in my mind. I screw my eyes shut tight and force myself to remember. I’ve done this every night since my 5th birthday. That was 3 years ago because, on my last birthday, my cake had 9 candles. If I don’t remember, I’ll never get my chance to escape. ...
Submitted to Contest #119
Jackson Marriott knew he’d messed up from the moment he saw the police car erratically mount the curb outside No. 7, narrowly missing this morning’s pile of bin bags that sat lazily in the front drive. His hand trembled as he used his middle finger to nervously push the bridge of his coke bottle glasses further up his nose. He blinked and his bottom eyelid twitched. With his jowly face pressed up against the glass of his living room window, Jackson knew he was no better than all the other busybodies on the street who were currently doing the...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
3 likes
