Menu

Menu

Prompts

Contests

Stories

Blog

Directory

Contests

Magazine

FAQ

← All contests

#129 Ski Season

For some of us in the Northern hemisphere, the cold wintery months of January and February come with the promise of the ski season — a light at the end of the tunnel of short, dark days. Whether you’re gallivanting around the Alps, or just taking a sledge to your local snowy hillside, there’s definitely adventure to be found at this time of year.

Whether you find the chill bracing, biting, or something else entirely, let’s thaw any ice that formed over your creative spirit this winter with the help of this week’s prompts!

🥇 Winner

At the Whitemare

Erica Vogel

Winner of Contest #129 🏆

It was unclear whether I was supposed to continue my work. The guests sometimes left used dishes out on tables, and sometimes did the chore themselves, chatting with one another. Few things more grounding than housework, one said.The first night of the blizzard, the storm of the decade the radio broadcasts and cable news networks called it, some staff sneaked to the least used balcony to smoke a joint. We huddled in a shaft some of the others had dug out, up to our necks in smoke and steam.In the evenings, a few of the guests watched films i...

107 likes

⭐️ Shortlisted

The Iron Door

Shortlisted for Contest #129 ⭐️

December 12th, 1692 To Father Eusebio Francisco Kino: The Cañada del Oro is rightly named, glory be to God. The placer has pointed our direction and we begin our journey up and into the belly of the mountain. The burros complain terribly, but not so loudly as the novitiates. The Papago peoples, of whom our apostolate counts some small number, are silent and strong in their ascent. They are possessed of a God-given sure-footedness that is the envy of burro and novitiate alike. Perhaps they are part bighorn sheep. We have made camp along...

46 likes

An Echoing Bark

Lydi B

Shortlisted for Contest #129 ⭐️

When the frigid stranger entered my inn, the thump of snow-dusted paws swallowed our greetings. The patchy tan and white coat barreling toward me could belong to only one canine: my precious Dublin.“Burns, come’ere,” the man shouted from the door, but I was transfixed. I dropped to my knees, accepting enthusiastic tongue slaps on my face.Those familiar snorts took me out of the hearth-warmed great room and hurtled me back two years ago. The last time I saw Dublin, he was running for his life…“Sorry, ma’am,” the man said, pulling “his” dog an...

31 likes

This week's prompts

Begin your story with a character crashing into something (or someone) while skiing.

Adventure – 29 stories

Write about a skier who accidentally strays off-piste.

Adventure – 30 stories

Set your story in a snowed-in chalet.

Winter – 55 stories

Write your story from the point of view of someone learning or teaching an extreme hobby.

Narrative – 19 stories

Your character runs an inn for resting mountaineers. It’s a calm life, until they encounter a twist of fate.

Winter – 47 stories

Stories

At the Whitemare

Erica Vogel

Winner of Contest #129 🏆

It was unclear whether I was supposed to continue my work. The guests sometimes left used dishes out on tables, and sometimes did the chore themselves, chatting with one another. Few things more grounding than housework, one said.The first night of the blizzard, the storm of the decade the radio broadcasts and cable news networks called it, some staff sneaked to the least used balcony to smoke a joint. We huddled in a shaft some of the others had dug out, up to our necks in smoke and steam.In the evenings, a few of the guests watched films i...

107 likes

Seagulls

Submitted to Contest #129

Alex O’Hara doesn’t ski. Growing up in St. Lawrence with an overabundance of snow every year, one would think she would. But skiing is a privilege Alex didn’t grow up with. The closest thing to skiing Alex did was duct taping two pieces of trash can lids to her feet and walking around West Parishville State Forest when she was ten years old. She ended up almost getting frost bite on her toes and got a whooping from her dad for being out past dark. Alex shakes the thought of St. Lawrence from her head as she takes a sip of her coffee ...

49 likes

The Iron Door

Shortlisted for Contest #129 ⭐️

December 12th, 1692 To Father Eusebio Francisco Kino: The Cañada del Oro is rightly named, glory be to God. The placer has pointed our direction and we begin our journey up and into the belly of the mountain. The burros complain terribly, but not so loudly as the novitiates. The Papago peoples, of whom our apostolate counts some small number, are silent and strong in their ascent. They are possessed of a God-given sure-footedness that is the envy of burro and novitiate alike. Perhaps they are part bighorn sheep. We have made camp along...

46 likes

When you lose your favorite sock

Scout Tahoe

Submitted to Contest #129

CW: cancer My dog follows me into the hallway as I’m crunching on a stick of ants-on-a-log. If only she knew raisins were terrible for her and that I wasn’t going to give her a bite anyways. I see my mom losing steam on folding a pile of laundry, so I sit cross-legged next to her and start matching socks. She’s scrolling through social media and leaning against the wall, rubbing the spot under her eyes where the rim of her glasses made a red imprint. She doesn’t notice me at first but then watches me as I sort the mismatched socks away. Some...

37 likes

Last Wish

Keya J.

Submitted to Contest #129

There are many places to go, many things to do when winter draws by. The cold enveloped our little house and the world had already begun to sink from sight. Hunching over the kitchen sink, my son held the tip of a paperclip over the flame, watching it blacken clean. The light burnt across his winter cheeks, but his eyes seemed nothing, but marbles of sole darkness. I knew he was upset about the morning’s conversation, but this lady had made up her mind. I could see the blueberry cake rise up in the oven.“What are you thinking about, Jan...

32 likes

An Echoing Bark

Lydi B

Shortlisted for Contest #129 ⭐️

When the frigid stranger entered my inn, the thump of snow-dusted paws swallowed our greetings. The patchy tan and white coat barreling toward me could belong to only one canine: my precious Dublin.“Burns, come’ere,” the man shouted from the door, but I was transfixed. I dropped to my knees, accepting enthusiastic tongue slaps on my face.Those familiar snorts took me out of the hearth-warmed great room and hurtled me back two years ago. The last time I saw Dublin, he was running for his life…“Sorry, ma’am,” the man said, pulling “his” dog an...

31 likes

Beautiful, What's Your Hurry?

Story Time

Submitted to Contest #129

If you open the door, the snow is six feet high.Seven. Twelve.It’s high enough.Go back in and make some popcorn.Ask the man on the bright red sofa what he’d like.Would he like a drink?Could you make him a drink?He hasn’t spoken in an hour.You were having a perfectly fine conversation and then he just--Stopped.Stopped talking.If you engage him in conversation, he’ll ask you about the scar on your cheek. The scar on your cheek is shaped like the letter ‘S.’ Like a serpent. It’s head poised. It’s body lean. It’s hunger undeniable. It wraps itse...

27 likes

The Hunt

Jennifer Marchman

Submitted to Contest #129

The Hunt Ringerike, Norway. 806 CE As Freydís watched from the doorway, her older brother knocked his spear against the bottom of his boot, dislodging snow, and her mother stood unconcerned at the loom near the hearth, placidly beating down the weft. The soft, familiar staccato passed through Freydís’ ears unheard. She imagined throwing her hands around Björn’s ankle and letting him drag her along the packed snow as he had done when she was smaller, and she hated herself for it. “Take me with you today.” His eyes rose t...

24 likes

The Quiet Wooden Lady

Phil Manders

Submitted to Contest #129

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. This is her place in the universe. This is home. This is where she belongs. This quiet wooden lady who sits by the lake. Perfectly wrapped ...

24 likes

Bittersweet

Submitted to Contest #129

A white sea with ever-falling pearls from a darkening sky. A sun setting over the peaks, casting a painting like fire that even the greats could not hope to replicate. A quiet so serene- so utterly void- one could on hear the deepest of thoughts echoing through memory. Joel collapsed in the snow as he watched the scene. It was the most beautiful thing he had witness in his long, simple life. A world unbothe...

23 likes

Conversations With Trees.

Danie Nikole

Submitted to Contest #129

First of all, I didn’t want to be there. Not that anyone bothered to ask me a question like that. It was fine. As the middle child I was used to getting shoved to the side. I was used to going with the flow of everyone else in our wild family. What family was that? I’ll explain. I have an older sister too smart for her own good and a mouth loud enough to tell everyone about it. I was sandwiched in between her and a younger brother who couldn’t manage to make a mistake in front of our doe eyed parents.I didn’t mean it to sound so bad, honest....

21 likes

Missing Mountain

Benny Regalbuto

Submitted to Contest #129

Kenton,Hey, man. I know this is a little strange since I still have your number, but… I wanted to send you a handwritten letter. I don’t expect us to become pen pals or anything, but I promise there’s a point to this, so just bear with me for a bit here. Or, y’know, don’t. You’re a big boy now; you make your own decisions.Anyway. Rewind to high school ski club. I joined for two reasons: because you were doing it, and because Jamie Tipton was doing it. What better justification could there’ve been?No matter my reasons, waking up at 2am to cat...

21 likes

Powdered Donut

Emerald Lace

Submitted to Contest #129

Insane. Mad. Idiotic. Those were a few of the words that were tossed around when Sheila told her family that she’d cashed in her retirement and bought an aging inn on Mount Olympus in Greece. But as she stepped out of the stone and thatched building with her steaming cup of coffee and breathed in the clear, clean scent of mountains, snow, and freedom---she couldn’t find an ounce of care for their opinions. She’d left her high-stress job and her low-class fiancé in the city. So...

21 likes

Lost and Found

Mary Catherine Kingfisher

Submitted to Contest #129

We reached year forty as a gang, with each of us hitting the milestone painfully yet sporadically throughout the year. First Alison in January, then the rest of us in February, April and July. None of us were despondent about meeting this bump in the road, though the cracks in our lives were starting to show. We planned to celebrate our collective aging with a ski vacation to Utah in February. So, it was a pleasant surprise when someone suggested a mini-reunion that fall. It was a quick trip to our hometown and, as the one still l...

20 likes

All's Fair in Love and Spar

Zack Powell

Submitted to Contest #129

Glenn, our marriage counselor, self-proclaimed relationship expert, repeated herself: "I said, have you two ever considered boxing?" Tim and I exchanged glances. We were both thinking she'd lost her mind. It was the first thing we'd agreed on all day. "No, I can't say that I have," Tim said, emphasizing the second I. He turned back to Glenn and added, "But I can only speak for myself, right?" I shook my head no, both in response to Glenn's question and Tim's passive-aggressiveness. Glenn tapped her pen on her clipboard, uncrossed her...

20 likes

Load more stories

Contest #130

This contest has ended. Thank you for your submissions.

$250

Prize money

180

Entries

91

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Jan 21, 2022 EST

Won by Erica Vogel 🏆

Title: At the Whitemare

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

Read the full terms & conditions or check out the FAQ if you have any questions!

reedsylearning

How to Write a Novel

Join Tom Bromley for a writing master class and finish your first draft in 3 months. Learn more →

How to Write a Novel