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 Sep, 2022
Submitted to Contest #186
“I hate it here.” “You do?” “Yes. It’s stuffy and cramped and–” “Old?” “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it.” “I guess it’s a bit… vintage.” “Vintage? This thing has to be falling apart. I wouldn’t be surprised if the roof caved in.” “Remember when we loved it?” “No.” “Remember when we cherished how we could scrape at the decaying wood, the feeling of it in our fingernails?” “Gross.” “Luce, I’m not saying I’d do it now. I just mean it meant something to us at one point.” “Yeah, when I was, like, three. I hardly reme...
Step 1. “You got this! Amazing! Great job!” your mother calls as you move those chubby legs across her stained oriental rug. This is the first step in life: Moving forward. In this case, learning how to walk. Remember this step. Those tiny legs of yours will be helpful throughout your life. Cherish them. Appreciate the way they feel, carrying your weight across the living room. When you go off balance and end up in a crawl, try again. Always pick yourself back up when you fall down. Step 2. “My baby’s all grown up,” your dad says, tea...
Submitted to Contest #174
TW: Death, burning Do you remember when we’d lay down by the ocean, sun beating on our backs until we were lobster red and hobbling back inside? When we would drink as many piña coladas as possible, not caring that we were one sip away from the bartender cutting us off? We must’ve been in our twenties. Twenty-three? No, twenty-four. That’s right. It was twenty-four. There was that Friday night when we went down to the bonfire and Steven Long was there. Oh man, did you have a thing for Steven Long. He was that kind of tall, dark, and...
Submitted to Contest #172
Three… two… one The countdown feels like a ticking time bomb, and when it goes off, it’ll either explode confetti or blow up her entire world. Her fingers are crossed behind her back, only one hand because she can be superstitious. Her eyes are closed tightly––so tight bursts of light cloud her vision, but she ignores them. All she can think about is the countdown. More specifically, the result at the end. The energy in the room is palpable. Girls to her left and right are practically buzzing with anticipation. Some hold hands, others cros...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
13 likes
