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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#167: Mind Yourself

Do you sometimes feel like you spend a lot of your time in a fictional reality that has little to do with the real world? From cooking up imaginary scenarios about what we could, should, or would have said,’ to overthinking the smallest of incidents that happened years ago, our minds can make us feel incredibly powerful one minute, and equally helpless the next. These tricks our minds play can change our perceptions of both ourselves and the people around us.

This week’s prompts are inspired by the creativity of the mind — and the worlds we construct in our own heads (with both positive and negative consequences).

This week's prompts

Start your story with a daydream sequence, before snapping back to reality.

High School – 63 stories

Write a story about someone who overthinks every single thing, blowing the tiniest incidents out of proportion.

High School – 16 stories

Set your story inside a character’s mind, literally.

Fantasy – 58 stories

Write a story about someone who thinks their life is a romcom and they’re the protagonist.

High School – 15 stories

Write a story about a character who can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.

Horror – 80 stories

Stories

“The Child” by Janis Cannon-Bowers

Submitted to Contest #167

“Do you sell wigs for children?”, she asked, looking nervously around the shop. “Aww, is she sick?” the young man behind the counter responded with genuine concern. “No, she’s…” she stopped. “Do you?” It was taking all her control to keep the panic from engulfing her. “Yeah, sure,” he said, pointing. “On the back wall.” She guided the child carefully to where the clerk had pointed. As she tucked the child’s blonde locks into the dark, curly wig she whispered, “we’re going to play dress up, now, reme...

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“The Alchemy of Nineteen” by Lindsay Flo

Submitted to Contest #167

“Your mother was nineteen, you know,” Aunt Melissa says, “when we started noticing.” Her declaration pulls me out of myself. Its not the first time she’s said this, and it won’t be the last. Today its particularly annoying, because its Thanksgiving, and I’m doing that thing where I imagine how life might have been different. You know. If my mom hadn’t gone crazy. I do this a lot, living a parallel life in my head. For example, instead of my father and Wren sitting on Melissa’s couch, staring blankly at the television and their phones, we’d...

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“Neuropia” by Suma Jayachandar

Submitted to Contest #167

After Ma tucks in the edges of the net, and turns off the light with a “goodnight, kanna”, the show starts. It begins with a candyfloss man with holes for eyes and a gaping mouth pedalling a bicycle at the far end of the grid around me, the bell a-tringing. Once he comes close to my face, his fluorescent form hops off the bicycle, prances around, and opens his mouth wide enough to let out a school of fish that quickly swim on the net in all directions and slide off it; all but one. That one grows bigger within seconds and bites my toe. And t...

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“Forward, With Purpose” by Tee L

Submitted to Contest #167

We meet at the foot of the path that leads up to the archery range. It’s probably my imagination, but he seems taller every time I see him. I frown and examine my legs. Maybe I’m getting shorter. There’s always an awkward second or so where we assess each other’s current mood and decide if we should hug. Like usual, that moment lasts too long for a hug to feel natural. It’s never been one of our things. My son grins as I hand him his old duffel, packed with his bow and arrows-- the same ones we’ve been practicing wi...

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“In Plain Sight” by John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #167

The front-page headline read, ‘Local Man Gains Sight.’ Psychologist, Dr. Isaac, looked at the wall clock. This man and his family were due momentarily. He planned to see them without charging his usual fee. Dr. Isaac believed therapy should not be a rich man’s luxury. To him, seeing clients ‘pro bono’ came with the territory. The family in his waiting room were unusual. Though clean, the father’s rumpled suit looked as if it had been pulled from the trunk of a car. His wife, Margaret, carried herself regally in her flowered housedress. In hi...

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“The Institution” by AnneMarie Miles

Submitted to Contest #167

“It’s 7:51,” Jim says to Dr. Kief.Checking his watch, Dr. Kief nods, “Yes, we can begin in a moment. The nurses are on their way.”Anxiously shoving his hands in his pockets just for the sake of having a place for them, Jim says, “I hope this works, Doc.”“Me, too. I have high hopes for your wife tonight. She made it through dinner just fine. Would it make you feel more comfortable if I began?”His gaze elsewhere, Jim shakes his head, “No, no. I’ll do it. If I was crazy and didn’t know it, I’d want her to tell me.”A hard knock comes from the do...

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“Lioness” by Eliza Troy

Submitted to Contest #167

Rose flattened his face with the backside of her new cast iron skillet. Crimson droplets splattered across the glass doors of the soda cooler flanking the conveyor belt. With a thud, his limp body fell face first to the ground. Pooled blood around his head contrasted against the off-white linoleum. She could hear her infant son wailing from the shopping cart and her daughter crying out her name. In complete stillness, Rose flit her eyes from the motionless body, to her kids, to the panicked people in line around her. Releasing her grip, the ...

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“Don't Stop and Smell the Flowers” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #167

Juniper stood, hands on her ample hips, smiling down at a mound of loose dirt. She'd just finished poking her finger into the soft dirt one to two inches apart, dropping different flower seeds into the holes and softly spreading the dirt back over them. The dark brown soil stood out like a stain along the white brick of the house, but soon beautiful wildflowers would be poking out, decorating her front lawn.She held her dirty hands up to inhale the wet earthy smell of the dirt as the soft hum of a motor approached in the distance. She turned...

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“The Megaspiracy” by Agnieszka Baczkowska-Maśluszczak

Submitted to Contest #167

1850 - The OthersThe dawn broke. A ship loomed in the sky. Silent, immobile, impossible. Voices echoed inside the metal hull. “Why are we here?” a young voice asked.“We can’t know. You know that. We never know,” another voice answered in a deep baritone.“Only at the very end?” the young voice asked.“Yes,” The old voice confirmed.“Alright then. When will it be time?”“Soon. Soon,” the old voice said.“I can’t believe this is happening again. Will I forget everything?”“Yes. Everything.”“It seems so frightening. Surely there must be somethin...

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“Some carry mirrors, some carry coffins ” by Flore Lazcano

Submitted to Contest #167

“Why is everyone going around with their arms and legs amputated and carrying coffins?” I was not able to reply to this strange question by then. It was crazy marvellous maintaining conversations with the crazy, it was fantastic to hear the hidden narratives inside the lunatic’s minds. I was a simple neighbour, in a monotonous neighbourhood, full of aged Italians. I boringly chewed and swallowed the same stories over and over: The ship arrival, the loneliness and the trauma post-war. I've heard about the bombs and the cold Russian wint...

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“Rufus, There's a Ruckus” by Gg Nota

Submitted to Contest #167

It was shaping up to be a busy afternoon at the Mayfair. The patrons were lining up at the front desk, each with an urgent request. A reservation here, or there, a delivery, a pickup, all so very important, and all with a holiday weekend bearing down upon them. But the concierge, unruffled, handled each request with polished aplomb. And thats when his phone rang : Rufus! Yes, Madam? Rufus, there’s a ruckus… Another ruckus, Madam? I fear someone is being bludgeoned…or worse! Madam, if I may, we’ve been down this road before… Not lik...

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“Last Sunday Morning Drive” by Marty B

Submitted to Contest #167

Wham! Something hit the back of Matt’s head and his left side, the pain hard and sharp. It reverberated across his skull, drowning out awareness of anything else and shooting stars across his vision. With a sudden jerk he fell back hard into the driver's door as inexplicably the large SUV he was driving stopped moving forward, but sideways, a roller coaster-shift of momentum. He felt the forceful impact abrupt against his broad back, pressing with immense force. Matt looked out of the windshield, and had the sensation of being in a trai...

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“They Both Grinned at the End” by Von Armstead

Submitted to Contest #167

TW: Descriptions of death.In the backyard lay a dead soul, limbs torn and dress ripped.“Maggie,” calls a woman, “your father and I are ready to start.”Margaret does not answer. She gets up from her bed and puts on her pale orange slippers. A triplet of white lilies rest in her left hand, a photograph in her right. She goes down the steps, to the backdoor, and pulls on it until it opens. “There you are, dear. Come here and let’s send daddy’s soul to heaven,” says the woman. She almost pukes at what she said, but she swallows it down in t...

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“N/A” by Michelle SHAAY

Submitted to Contest #167

The hot, large cup of coffee was just what she needed. It was really chilly in her makeshift office on this particularly sunny morning. Even though she didn't even like the flavor of it Myra added a shot of Vodka to make it more appealing. It had been a long and frustrating week. As more news poured in about a menacing pandemic and downturn in the economy her options were quickly drying up. Her company was so afraid of the current events, they decided to completely demolish an entire building and division that housed her position of five yea...

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“Seashells and Tigers” by Rama Shaar

Submitted to Contest #167

Last week I drove you to the airport. It was a ride of pride and pain; you were off to Australia. Why so far away? When you came into the kitchen that Saturday afternoon, all flushed with excitement about your gap year doing a beekeeping internship in Queensland, my heart fluttered with joy and plummeted with grief.When we loaded your guitar into the trunk of my tired Suzuki, you closed the boot with a bang and went to the front seat. I sat beside you trying to make little jokes about how bees wouldn’t like these banging noises and you nodde...

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$250

Prize money

232

Contest entries

96

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Oct 14, 2022 EST

Won by Lucy Joyce 🏆

Title: Adelaide's Cemetery

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!

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