🎉 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 Jul, 2020
Submitted to Contest #63
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Great, just another day at Fireside Tombs Cemetery. I give Gus a withering look, then extinguish the flames. In all his 6 "1" translucent glory, he ducks his head and scuffs his shoes across the leaf-covered walkway. "Gus, I don't have a permit to burn leaves. It's detrimental to the headstones. Besides, these leaves are to be bagged up with the rest so I can deliver them to Let's Talk Dirty Compost Company."  "Sorry, Lottie." My name is Charlotte, but he insists on calli...
Submitted to Contest #62
"What's so special about time capsules?" My seven-year-old niece, Nia, asked. I started to answer, but she scampered away before I could open my mouth. She doesn't realize the importance of this object to me. It's a small, shiny stainless-steel container that's smooth and cold to the touch. I trace the words Vanessa Ann Davis engraved in loops and swirls, with my fingers. Time capsules are supposed to be great bonding activities and a way to express thoughts and feelings. To her, time capsules are for storing old toys and digging them up lat...
Submitted to Contest #61
The snow day is loaded with children making snowmen and teenagers sleeping in. Fifteen-year-old Abby isn’t sleepy. Safe and warm in her bedroom, clothed in her favorite pajamas, she stands on a chair rearranging books on her beloved bookshelf. Her dad made it for her tenth birthday. It’s her favorite thing in the entire world and every time she looks at it, she thinks of him. "Your father couldn't read," her mom blurts out of nowhere.  Startled, Abby turns and drops the book she was holding. Her mom is standing in the door...
Submitted to Contest #60
Zombies are clumsy. I'm gawking at them through the crack of the boarded-up window, in my living room. This is my entertainment for the day. I sip on bottled water and watch as three zombies lurch down the street and trip over old furniture and garbage. I don't know what happened to them but, they're covered in blood and guts, dragging their entrails behind them. Finally, they make it to the end of the block. I flop onto my favorite part of the couch and continue with my crossword puzzle. When tales of zombie attacks started whispering acros...
Starla Taylor has not written a bio yet!
Oops, you need an account for that!
Log in with your social account:
Or enter your email: