Advice, insights and news
Free 10-day publishing courses
Free publishing webinars
Free EPUB & PDF typesetting tool
Launch your book in style
Assemble a team of pros
A weekly short story contest
Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020
WARNING: Almost certainly contains the abuse and misuse of commas. (Sorry Deidra)Luckily, I’m not cursed by an irrational desire to justify my decisions. I know when I’m right. Which, I’m not ashamed to say, is always.It was so tiny when it finally came. It often is. Most people in the room, I assume, would have been oblivious to it. Not me. One might be forgiven for assuming ...
Aubrey squinted at the bedside clock. It was four in the morning and the summer dawn was forcing its way in through a gap in the curtains.“Oh no.” He said, as he realised he’d made it through another night. “Not again.”He struggled to sit up. His twisted sheets refused to let go of his legs, after a bit of a tussle, he gave in and rolled onto his back. Images of a walrus heaving itself across a beach flashed through his mind. He lay still for a moment panting. His chest sounding like old bagpipes.
The Lawson family had been in residence at Charlesworth house for over four hundred years. Except for her loyal companion Duke, an old English Foxhound she’d kept from the last of her hunting days, Antoinette Lawson lived alone in four rooms in the east wing: a bedroom, a bathroom, a dining room and a drawing room. She had no use for a kitchen. Albert, her butler, took care of all her dietary requirements. In fact, Albert, a balding, wiry little man now in his late eighties, took care of everything.<...
Hibernating beneath thick snow, almost invisible, she’s held captive. She waits. Patiently. When the first warmth of spring tentatively touches her after the long, dark winter freeze, she stretches. Her body creaks and groans in a way only an old lady’s can. She awakes. She welcomes the warmth and allows it to enter her. To soothe her. Every beam relaxing, respectfully yearning for the long hot summer. <...
“Our life is a constant journey, from birth to death. The landscape changes, the people change, but the trains keep moving. Life is the train, not the station.”Paulo Coelho.Unrelenting darkness crawled over the empty platform as the last train rocked its way wearily into the station. The engine wheezed and hissed, sending sheets of diesel-stained snow sliding from its roof onto the icy tracks. A solitary l...
Warning: This one is nasty. Grey, lifeless water slid silently beneath her in the darkness. The lights from the village, where she used to play, blurred hazily on the horizon, merging with the inky sky. Her mind, unlike the numb air that clung to autumn cobwebs, had never felt more alive, more awake. The cold ironwork of the bridge felt like it had electricity running through it. Her feet dangling, she slipped off her shoes and watched them drop, drifting away into the ...
The colossal craft, moved silently through infinite darkness. It’s mass, undistinguishable in the void. Travelling close to the speed of light, it caused no disturbance in the vacuum of space. Not a sound. Not a vibration. Not a murmur. Onboard, an advanced alien species plotted a course for a fascinating-sounding planet they knew as Earth. Rumours of this planet had spread far and wide across the universe, and fr...
When the nice policeman comes, I just won’t speak to him. My mummy always calls them “the nice policeman.” She told me, if I ever get lost, all I have to do is find the nice policeman and he will keep me safe and look after me. I hope he'll be nice. ********* Obviously, the police have to get involved in a case like this. Apparently, she will be i...
"Ssssshhhh. Ok, ok, class, settle down please. Could you all please settle down and be quiet."Miss Taylor glanced around the room, waiting for the class to listen. “Thomas! Can you get your feet off the desk please. Thank you.”Gradually, the noise dulled to a murmur. She flashed a white smile and waited for the last of the whispers to stop. “Now then, if you remember, last time I saw you, I asked you to write about something that's beautiful in your life. Like, I don't know, your Mum or Dad or, say, I don’t know, your cat?”<...
“Papa,” whispered Tilly. “Papa, I want us to sit near the front so we can see everything that's happening. Can we do that, Papa? Can we do that?” Tilly’s shiny new shoes squeaked on the stone floor, sending echoes up to the rafters. It felt like everyone was looking. Instinctively, she reached up and held on tightly to Papa’s hand, hiding her face in his trousers. Giving her hand three gentle squeezes, Papa made h...
There you are. I've been expecting you, so don't be offended if I seem a little underwhelmed by the fact you've actually, finally turned up. To be honest, would you expect anything less from me after you killed my Father. Was it the fact that he ignored you all those years? Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe that was his mistake. We’ll never know. Since Father died I’ve been waiting. Not in an obses...
Walter stared stone-faced at the mirrored walls of the room. The handcuffs and bland white walls were starting to irritate him, but he knew it would all be over soon. It would be over when he decided it would be. He closed his eyes and began to recite the Lord's Prayer. Outside in the viewing area, DCI Lawrence grabbed a bottle of water and two plastic cups. He waved the bottle of water at the glass. "I kno...
Hey Dad, at least you didn’t wee on your slippers. Well, I don’t mean wee straight on to them exactly, that would be weird. Apparently, it's a thing that happens to men when they get really old. They sort of dribble onto their slippers. Then they shuffle around in them, smelling of wee.At least you didn’t do that.And at least you didn’t have to live in one of those proper old people homes. The ones where stairs are forbidden. And the only colour that exists is magnolia...
“Hey Miss! Hey, excuse me. Young Lady!” Jerry’s gruff, whiskey soaked voice echoed through the empty room.The bartender, who was holding her phone out in front of her like it was going to melt her ear off if she used it properly, turned the other way and carried on her conversation. Jerry cleared his throat dramatically.“Excuse me! What do you have to do to get a drink round here?” The bartender stopped talking, and shot Jerry a look that probably could have melted his ears off.Jerry waved a note in the air...
Rosa opened her eyes, her heart fluttering in her throat. Was this a dream? She lay still. Barely daring to draw another breath.She listened.A perfect June dawn bathed Rosa in a calm delicate light. It nudged at the white cotton curtains, teasing the sleeping bedroom with glimpses of a glorious deep blue sky, filling the room with salty honeysuckled air.Just outside the cottage window, a bumble bee drifted between the fl...
Single handedly, redefining the comma. Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️ Contest #127 A Single Rose
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: