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 Mar, 2021
Submitted to Contest #274
There aren’t any stars, tonight — just the metropolitan fog clouding the sky and my judgment. The night air is cold and biting on my cheeks as if nipping at me for being out so late. Even I know it’s way too late to go out, and everything I see seems to confirm this; The lonely moon, the ever-present scent of cigarettes and urine that could only be a bad omen. Every street light stands flickering, as if trying to send me a message, why are you here? Why are you here? I hunch my shoulders in an attempt to burrow some of the warmth in. I’m wea...
As I stepped inside, the rush of freezing, stale air from the convenience store was enough to sober me up. The cold made the forgiving heat in Lauren’s car a distant dream. The drive down the long avenue made all of this a fugue-like dream and I could almost forget I was about to rob this place when it was just me and this 24-hour open convenience store, and I peeked at the counter, one sad, lonely teenager scrolling idly through his phone. The temperature reminded me of stepping into a morgue to collect a body, which in a way, I am. I just ...
Every single Sunday, no matter what happened Inside, I always start and end the week here - with Poppy baking cookies. “It’s right next to the baking soda, dolly.” My grandfather’s gruff voice carries over from the kitchen. I stand in the pantry, or what my grandfather calls a pantry but is actually just big, plastic containers with everything in it - mismatched pan lids, rusty kitchen equipment parts, and some extra special, hard-to-find ingredients carefully plastic-wrapped within an inch of its life - like kosher salt. I grumble...
Content warning: This story has themes of physical violence and suicide or self-harm. Reader discretion is advised. At the end of the world, there was you and me. We met at the end of each other’s guns. I haven’t seen or felt any other person for months. A lone wanderer. The last of the human race turns out to be a banker. Which is funny, don't you think? I thought I was sick, already hallucinating everything. I thought that somehow, the same fog that took everyone and everything away from me has settled deep in my guts already. Th...
A group of student activists hangs out in the Cat Cafe every Tuesday, four o'clock afternoon on the dot. It’s a collection of people: there are the exuberant student leaders carrying portfolios, artsy film students lugging around equipment and paint, and there’s a gaggle of pre-law students fresh out of the debate. There's the odd graduate student lugging around a beat-up laptop, but what do you expect from a university cafe?It's the ones that speak of a change that Carly enjoys the most. Sometimes, they arrive with noise, announcing everyon...
The deaths start in late April. I remember the first case, a girl with her lifeless eyes gazing upward, her stomach completely gone. Forensics sent the analysis a few days after that basically summed up what we saw at the crime scene: something incredibly hot punctured her, causing her to lose a lot of blood at once. Blood toxicity showed an incredibly high level of unknown drugs in her system that exacerbated her heartbeat, causing arrhythmia and finally, a heart attack. Out of all the evidence we obtained, I remember her bright-yellow eyeg...
“Do you find me graceful yet?” Kurt side-glances his boyfriend, Jasper, as he attempts to glide across the linoleum floor. The hot New York sun is unforgivable in the afternoon as its beams shine all over the capsule-sized apartment they’re currently viewing. Kurt continues to prance from corner to corner, taking his time to count in his head before leaping. It only took him two leaps to get from one end to another, but he feels a sense of childish accomplishment when he does them. Jasper sighs, his finger coming away with dust when he wip...
Submitted to Contest #95
Her dress is killing her - Riri Ortega is sure that the dress was given to her out of spite. Grey with floral appliques everywhere, and layers upon layers of tulle, the color alone washes out Riri and makes her look like an expensive dusty curtain. Her mother forced her to pair the outfit with ridiculous shoes that don’t work favorably for her; the added height makes her look more like a twig sprouting out of nowhere. Her hair which she usually let down is in a braided up do that has too many pins sticking and pinching her scalp. Not t...
Submitted to Contest #93
This is the second party Katherine has been in in her entire three years in university. If she wasn’t strong-armed and begged to do this by the ghost hounding her, she would’ve left hours ago, but Mrs. O’Leary was the kind of insistent that makes you feel annoyed that turns back around to pity, like a small street dog who doesn’t give up a stick in their mouth. Usually the ghosts she encounters are quiet, following her wherever she goes; Mrs. O’Leary is the noisy bawling sort. Katherine should be writing her paper for her midterms in calculu...
Submitted to Contest #91
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.Liezel Magno-Tan takes much pride to her family surname. The Magnos are well-known political dynasty that primarily resides in the suburban Marikina City nestled in between more prominent metropolitan cities in the Philippines. Combined with her father’s corporate empire that continues to be a giant in the ...
Submitted to Contest #88
Dear Cat, You know how there’s The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, these fictional places set in some place parallel to what we know and believe to be reality, but separated by some thin layer of- and I shudder as I write this, magic? Well, Cat, you will never guess where I am. I am stuck in a magical-out of this world-Narnia could never compete-medieval country. Yes, you have read that right; assuming that I actually found a way to send this letter to you and you are actually reading it. I hope you are somehow,...
Submitted to Contest #86
Darren Wolf is the kind of man that runs in routines. He wakes up at precisely 6:30 in the morning, and the first thing he does after opening his eyes is fixing his bed. How he knows it is precisely 6:30 in the morning isn’t because of some alarm clock on his phone (his phone can only call his only daughter who lives a city away from him and when absolutely pressed, an ambulance when he needs it), but because of the sounds of his neighborhood that immediately tells his mind to wake up when he hears it. There’s the two high-pitched barks of t...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: