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, 2022
Submitted to Contest #295
Forty years after leaving Kevin’s seaside home, the decline is palpable along the winding streets. Many of the old places are boarded up, and some businesses have changed hands more than once. He passes the usual tawdry trinket shops designed to trap tourists into paying exorbitant prices. Less than five minutes from the sea, with the seagulls circling, he finds himself making a detour into one of the dilapidated side streets.That’s when he sees it.Set back a little and squeezed between two equally insalubrious establishments, a blue plaque ...
Submitted to Contest #291
Dipping and soaring, we fly through skies of rippled blue, eyes fixed upon the ocean. Constantly shifting shape and focus, waves churn up spume which land like snowflakes on the shore. To the distant eye, we appear like specks of grey in the sky.Playing at Peekaboo. Now you see us, now you don’t.Sometimes called “parrots of the sea,” we’re not all we seem. Flying at speeds of up to 55 miles, our wings beat extra hard as we wait for the sea to calm. Other times we avoid the tumult by ducking and swimming underwater. Using our wings and feet a...
Submitted to Contest #289
Half trueFalling in love is like being on the best ride.Falling out is what happens when you get off.As the bus drew close to the American airbase drop off point, nineteen-year-old Lottie applied another layer of Strawberry Potion to her lips. Earlier, she’d sneaked out of the home she shared with her strait-laced parents in a village a few miles away telling them she was staying over to watch tv with an old school friend. The staying over part was true but she wasn’t sure her mother believed the rest.“Just because you’re a grown woman doesn...
Submitted to Contest #286
The envelope joined the pile gathering dust on Mike’s table. He would read its contents, but only after his run. He dreaded a confirmation that would seal his fate almost as surely as if he’d thrown himself off the rocks and plunged into the oblivion of a churning sea. But no. In spite of everything, he wanted to live.Besides which, Jeff would have expected him to fight rather than cling onto a past long since gone.There was no point running away from problems.But running away was exactly what he’d been doing – for months, even years now. As...
Submitted to Contest #284
Nothing is more challenging than the start of a new year when people have been clearing out their unwanted items after Christmas and the donations are piling into the charity shop filling up every inch of spare space. It’s not unknown for this state of affairs to continue even after we’ve closed when you get donors literally banging on the window demanding to bring in boxes of goods they can barely lift themselves. You’re expected to receive all this with a smile of undying gratitude, even though you’re desperate to cash up so you can get ho...
Submitted to Contest #281
Christmas is round the corner and I’ve never felt less Christmassy.Here I am surrounded by all manner of festive gifts and must-have seasonal cuties. The boxes of crackers may look appealing but seeing the person I want to pull them with is no longer around, maybe not so much.However, even I have to admit the very reasonably priced snow globes with their miniature snowmen in funny hats and colourful scarves, have a certain charm. One of the store’s best sellers, only one remains waiting to be shaken and given a good home.These new goods are ...
Submitted to Contest #276
The Social WorkerNames and places have been changed. Some who played a part in this are not included, but in essence this is a true story.Whatever I was expecting, Mrs Lauren wasn’t it. An older woman, well spoken, with not a hair out of place, wearing heels and a power suit, she didn’t fit my image of a typical social worker, whatever that was. The first time I saw her; I didn’t think she’d be much help.***A voice called from the half-open door where my favourite teacher Mrs Swanson was conferring with the school secretary.“A quick word, He...
Submitted to Contest #275
The SmokeLondon, 1941As usual, Bill woke at dawn and was driven out to his aircraft. The order to scramble had been given and he felt the familiar tug of fear and excitement. He checked his jacket pocket for the doll his sister had knitted as a lucky charm. She told him she’d made two dolls but his was the best. He felt the rough cloth and bumpy stitches, complete with tiny bag and hat, beneath his fingers, and smiled. The thought of his little sister’s face gazing up at him the last time they met, brought a lump to his throat. It gave him t...
Submitted to Contest #274
Amber EyesFor thousands of years cats have been teaching humans a thing or two, including how to live in the moment and when to let go.It was just after dusk when the cat tiptoed its way across the garden. Fur ruffled by a breeze blown in from the desert, it regarded the woman through languorous amber-gold eyes. Carrying a lantern, she trod the path cautiously, anxious to avoid the sting of a passing scorpion. The animal already knew she was special, but this marked her out as wise. The woman whose name was Zara made h...
Submitted to Contest #272
Turn over your shoes to stop the pixies and ogres walking in them. Shut the drapes so the moonlight doesn’t drive you mad.Keep your ladies of the bedchamber close for tis now you need them most.Gold and silver thread shimmer in my candlelit chamber. The figures of three noblewomen standing beneath a garden tree in the tapestry opposite feel as much part of me as the veins in my still slender hands. One holds a bunch of flowers, one carries a basket of eggs, and the third stretches out her hand to a pelican. Symbol of motherhood, it is said t...
Submitted to Contest #268
TW: mentions of mental and physical abuse.Bill sat bolt upright in the hotel bed, heart pounding to a familiar refrain. The dream had reasserted itself with a vengeance.From the moment he’d seen the updated list of people attending the conference, one name had stood out: Dake Scratchard was the name of the boy who’d haunted Bill Brown’s life more years than he cared to remember. Dreams fuelled by past memories disturbed his nights when equal amounts of dread and fear surged through his veins, rendering him helpless.As always, the nightmare w...
Shortlisted for Contest #265 ⭐️
Bubbles.Sometimes try. To. Catch bubbles … tiny ones, they float above me. A soft pink ceiling seals me in. A kind of membrane. But where does it go? Where do I go?Very tired. I open my mouth. Yawn it all out. Bend my neck. It needs rest. Eyes heavy under lids. Closing them… so soothing. With them tight shut dark, I go to vanish. Back again on dream journey. Traveling, to where? Memories unfurl. I’m in the unknown. What? Is it?Fragments of life. Memories forming. Past is present. Present is past. I don’t know. Uncoiling. 🫧 🫧Sudden...
Submitted to Contest #264
TW: some swearingThe plates are beginning to pile up like Portuguese men o’ war on a deserted shoreline. Cursing loudly, Barry promises himself a dish washer as soon as he can get round to buying it. A half-eaten fish and chip supper lies stranded next to the sink, its wrapping poking out of the bin like an accusation. While he’s about it, he might as well get a new bin too. Preferably one where the lid doesn’t have to be wrenched open.Friday evening is rock night, the only time Barry feels truly alive. He’s getting ready to join his b...
Submitted to Contest #261
If only good things lasted. Maybe not forever, but for as long as we need them.This section of the riverbank has been my favourite haunt for the past year. There’s a chill in the air and my feet scrunch along a well-worn path. Ancient half-bare trees sway a little, their curling leaves settling after a languid descent. Soon they will be little more than trunks with skeletal branches; passers-by will observe them while clumping along carpets of rusty red and gold. Then they will turn to mulch, and traipsing visitors will long for the promise ...
Shortlisted for Contest #254 ⭐️
OAKWOOD FOREST, 1350.Like any right-minded boy of nine and a half, hadn’t Tom always dismissed the rumours as unbelievable? Too good to be true.“Stuff and nonsense,” his mother said firmly. “You are to ignore them.”“But what if they are true?” He’d asked her this more than once.“They are not true.” She shook her fist to emphasise the point. “You must stop your foolish chatter, Tom. There have been no sightings and even if there were, the king has forbidden such talk. Haven’t we enough troubles, without adding to them?”“But…”“No ifs and no bu...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
42 likes
