🎉 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 Dec, 2021
Finally I was dead. This was the moment I had waited for my entire life. To be clear, I did nothing to hurry its arrival, nothing egregious anyway, despite the fact that my husk of clay wasn’t always what I’d call "amenable" to keeping itself alive. Nonetheless, I really did do my best as long as it was my duty. I fed it, exercised it, gave it multi-vitamins when I remembered and generally deferred from the things it craved that would clog its arteries, fog its brain and otherwise break down its fragile fickleness. But all along I knew ti...
The BourneBOURNE: (noun) 1. a limit or boundary 2. a goal or destinationExcerpt from the personal log of Commander Alfred Livingstone Earth Year 2492—“I have always been afraid of death. The fear has driven me, kept me moving, forced me to explore. I have always felt that if I stop searching, stop pushing the boundaries, stop discovering, death will catch me.Earthside, death feels so near. The ground I walk o...
Day 1: The Sundering SeasWelcome to The Pudding, my little ship hung with true blue sails. She is bravely buoyant upon the sundering sea as she bears me questing for proofs among the Isles of Idiom. Aboard there is a crew of only me and my beagle Salty. I steer the ship on the heaving waves and Salty listens to my meanderings, understanding my moods with his plaintive eyes. You are here too, though you understand much less and exist only in the corners of my reveries.I am charting these waters ...
The TimepieceJim Coyfield clutched his battered pocket watch as his worn out body wracked itself, his diaphragm heaving, his trachea spasming, his lips forced open in a ragged “O.” Three hundred years the watch had passed from Coyfield to Coyfield. And now, there was no one left, no one he could give it to, no one he could tell the secrets.Old man Coyfield coughed again and bloody phlegm splattered the moldy carpet of his desolated trailer.H...
There was a time when men could fly— Bobby pressed his makeshift goggles to his freckled sunburned face, the ones he’d rigged from transparent artifacts he’d found floating on the salt flats.—a time when people sped from continent to continent faster than the wind—Bobby shoved his hands into gloves made of ancient vinyl he’d harvested himself from the buried city. —skimming over empty oceans, gliding over barren mountains, traversi...
It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. ***Two ghostly men walked side by side, the powdery flakes passing through their luminous heads and shoulders before settling on the path. Their feet left no prints as they went. “I like the cold and snow,” one man, whose name was Jack, said to the other, “makes a good setting, but I hate the word ‘terribly.’ We’ve got to change that.”“Fine, fine Mr. London,” the other man, Hans, sai...
1My first life was a disappointment when compared to all my others. It was short, and I spent most of it a lot wetter than any cat would like. I never found out exactly how it ended because whatever got me came at me from behind. Of course, the Fenwick Fogpaws of later lives would never be snuck up on, but first lives are pretty tough on a lot of cats. My “number one” is only worth a mention because that’s when I made my first attempt at understanding.I was a little orange tabby stre...
“So Grandpa, what’s the best job you ever had?”“That’s easy. Cemetery caretaker. It was my side job during high school. Most fun I ever had.”“Most fun? That sounds more like ‘most creepy’ to me.”“There’s nothing really all that creepy about a cemetery. For the most part, it’s no different than any other lawn that needs to be mowed and watered.”“I think the headstones and dead bodies make it a little bit different, Grandpa.”“Pshaw, it’s no big deal. S...
Gaziantepe Turkey, February 5th, 2023***“You must keep quiet, little Ruslan,” said my mother, “they cannot know we’re here.” I nodded, but I did not want her to go.“I will be back soon with something good to eat. Just stay quiet, and do not move. Will you promise?” I nodded again. She adjusted my mittens and checked that my coat was tightly closed, then stepped quickly out the door.We had stayed two nights already in this room so full of dusty ...
We moonlings do with great delight our labors for the lesser light.We stoke the waxing, still the waning, trim the lamp of mystic flaming.We guide the searchers in the dark and set the seasons on their mark.We turn the times and tilt the tides, and shine the beams for shadow hides.We watch the whirling world below and count the quickened ebb and flow.We moonlings do with great delight our labors for the lesser light.***
My planet is different from your planet. I’m not saying it's better. It’s just different. I know, I know, it's hard not to start drawing comparisons, especially when it comes to things like the place that made you. Naturally, everyone is curious to know whether the ball of matter that is responsible for the particular arrangement of molecules they are currently styling as “themself” is of high or low quality. But that’s...
All work copyrighted by the author
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: