🎉 Our next novel writing master class starts in –! Claim your spot →
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 Nov, 2022
“I can’t sleep.” Liam twisted over, staring the vampire dead in the eyes. His eyebrow twitched upwards. “And you’re just figuring this out now?” Rowan scoffed, shoving Liam’s shoulder as he leaned over the couch. “I haven’t been… like this for very long,” he huffed, glancing once at the full moon. Liam cracked a smile. He sat up, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Rowan liked to keep it unbearably cold, but at some point Liam had grown accustomed to it. “What, only a couple eons?” Rowan grinned, fangs peeking over h...
“So, what’s the catch?” I would remember that moment for the rest of my life. Plush, white blankets bunched around her, her full head of wild curls tilted delicately into the pillow. She was a sight to behold, each plane of her face as beautifully placed as if by the delicate strokes of a paintbrush. Her lips were parted, in the beginning of making some clever remark or another. But only moments ago, she had been dead. The truth was, Valerie Wright wasn’t even supposed to be my friend. She was poised, each word carefully st...
Submitted to Contest #179
Oliver; that was the name emblazoned on the gold plate pinned crookedly to the man’s chest. She tried that tactic next, saying his name slowly, drawing out the syllables into a request. He shook his head, looking rather—in her completely bias-free opinion—like a sullen child. “M’am,” he said, clacking away at his infernal keyboard. “There is just not any room for you.” Dawn gritted her teeth, clutching the thin fabric of her sweater into a ball in front of her. All she had bothered to bring was the equivalent of a child’s sleepover ba...
Submitted to Contest #176
I’ve never been one for dark spaces. Something about the way sound is swallowed up, how the only sensation to go by is that of trembling hands, how every corner likes to press in towards me; it's a suffocating feeling. With a sigh, I turn uncomfortably over on my side. These are the types of thoughts my brain likes to pick apart and swallow, rationalising every previous twitch of muscle into the light hours of the night. When the sun knocks its watery fists on my window, it’s with bloodshot eyes I stare the day in the face. Stu...
Reve Mitchell has not written a bio yet!
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: