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 Feb, 2025
Submitted to Contest #300
At 77, I’d seen my share of the world’s chaos with decades lecturing on environmental protection and water management, consulting for governments in Asia and Africa, and advising Israeli kibbutzim on irrigation. My life was a tapestry of lecture halls, dusty fields, and boardrooms. But nothing prepared me for the detour that awaited on my way to Jalandhar in Punjab, India. It began with Eli, a former student from a kibbutz, now in his thirties, with the lean build and sharp eyes of an ex-IDF special forces soldier. He invited me to join a de...
It was a lively afternoon in Central Park West. Adjacent to the Delacorte Theater on the southwest corner of the Great Lawn, it thrummed with energy under a brilliant blue sky. Food trucks lined the pathways, their bright colors a cheerful contrast to the sprawling green. Among them stood "Juan’s Spice & Fire" a truck painted in bold reds and yellows, adorned with cartoon chili peppers wearing mischievous grins. The air was thick with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling meats, roasted peppers, and zesty spices, pulling in a steady crowd of...
Submitted to Contest #298
Amsterdam, 1676 Each night, I slip into a dream, a vivid tapestry of 17th-century Amsterdam, where canals gleam under gray skies and the air hums with the clatter of horse-drawn carts. I am nothing here, a silent wisp, a fly on the wall watching my ancestor Esther live a life woven with the Spinoza family. She is my blood, her sharp mind and quiet strength stirring something deep in me. Tonight, the dream draws me to a cozy house, its hearth casting golden light across worn wooden floors. Esther sits with her husband, Aaron, and his father, ...
Submitted to Contest #297
The Mediterranean sparkled beneath us, as David banked the old C-47 Skytrain toward the southeast. The hum of the twin Pratt & Whitney engines was a steady comfort, though the cabin vibrated like a living thing. I’d finally caved to his week-long pestering. He convinced me to come along on a medical aid mission to Darfur in Sudan, a place shredded by civil war and bleeding from terrorist raids spilling over from neighboring countries, with or without the help and knowledge of the Sudanese government. How could I say no to an old friend o...
Submitted to Contest #296
Finishing her self-defense classes, Yael Cohen received an urgent call from her boss: “Report in 30!” With black belts in both Krav Maga and Judo, in Judo fourth Dan, she enjoyed training IDF and Mossad recruits, but her major tasks as Mossad operative were outside Israel. A day later, she was on board of the *Lena*, a sleek, 65-meter yacht, as it sliced through the dark waters of the Mediterranean, its engines humming with quiet menace. Avi Barzel, Captain in the Israeli Navy, was at the controls. The yacht had belonged to a Russian oligarc...
Submitted to Contest #295
Eulogy with a Vengeance. The summer heat in Buenos Aires was suffocating, a damp veil clinging to Yuval Levy’s skin as he wove through the crowded streets of Palermo. Unshaven and hollow-eyed, he looked like a specter. His once-sharp features dulled by sleepless nights and cheap whiskey. His Mossad training kept him alive, but it couldn’t mend the void where his heart once beat. Three months earlier, a car bomb had ripped through Tel Aviv, claiming his wife, Tali, and their 16 years old daughter, Sarit. Forensics took eight days to identify ...
Submitted to Contest #294
The Signal in the Static The rain had been falling for three days straight, a relentless grey curtain that turned the cobblestoned alleys of the old neighborhood Nachlaot in Jerusalem into rivers of mud. It hardly ever rains in Jerusalem.Inside the cluttered basement of the old house, Aviva hunched over an ancient radio, its dials glowing faintly in the dim light of a single bulb. She twisted the knob, her fingers trembling with a mix of exhaustion and hope. Static hissed through the speakers, a white noise that had become her companion over...
Submitted to Contest #293
After my meeting with the Deputy Health Minister of Mauritania, I was invited to enjoy traditional Berber food at his brother’s, Abdoulayeh, tent encampment, who maintained a traditional Berber lifestyle. He owned 800 camels and explained how his caravans still traveled 1,500 kilometers deep into the Sahara to trade salt with isolated communities. His main business, however, revolved around camel milk and cheese. The meal was a true feast: Harira soup, Thieboudienne (fish and spiced rice), Méchoui (whole roasted lamb), Mahfe (camel meat, okr...
Submitted to Contest #291
It was bound to happen. What I feared came true. Decades long I managed to finish the job without a hitch. Sound and tough training, precautions. Diversions, resources, safe houses. As if the world came tumbling down. The irony of it all is that whatever had to be done, whether in friendly or enemy territory, was done professionally. I don’t want to sound self-conceited, which I’m not. All my successes were because of the teams that worked with me, the strangers without a real name, but with a face, a personality, and a drive beyond the imag...
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email:
0 likes
