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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

“Psychic or Just Sick?” by Dawn Kaltenbaugh

Submitted to Contest #167

There are days when I wonder if everyone else sees what I see. If they felt what I do, they would get no peace. I know I don’t…These fantastic visions can’t be real, can they? It started on a fateful day in September I’m sure all of you remember, but not like I do. I heard the screams, felt the terror of each person on those planes. The sounds will haunt my nightmares all my life. I can’t get the faces or the voices out of my head. I feel like I’m going insane an inch at a time. When those towers went...

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“Kept On Digging” by Samantha McWilliams

Submitted to Contest #167

It’s often easy to tell the difference between an accidental crash and the shattering that occurs with the force of anger behind it. Looking up from my yard, with the sound still reverberating in my mind, my innate curiosity overcame me. Just across the way there, the mobile home tucked haphazardly amongst the rest — a stillness had fallen over the place that seemed quite different from the others, from mine. A slick feeling of sickness was already creeping into my gut, and I found myself pushing the sensation down into that place of denial....

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“Brown Sugar and Sweet Honey” by Gratian Fredericks

Submitted to Contest #167

The wind wafted across her golden hair and danced as it ruffled her pink sundress. I could see her; smell her. Like brown sugar and sweet honey. “What are you thinking about?” Her whispers were ghostly, as if she were speaking to me from another world—a better one—or a dream. Or perhaps she was trying to wake me. Had I fallen asleep in this meadow? “I’m thinking about what I’m always thinking about,” I told her as I propped my chin on my fist. “You.” Her smile was wide, as radiant as the setting sun behind her, filled with that bashf...

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“Prince Charming” by L.L. Williams

Submitted to Contest #167

Lisa looked beautiful on her wedding day. The custom-made, form-fitting, mermaid-style dress she wore accented her naturally curvaceous body. The white lace fabric complimented her sun-kissed copper skin. Her train billowed in the warm, light breeze that swept through the open-air castle on the early June evening. As she walked down the aisle, the candles adorning the floor cast shadows that engaged in their own interpretative dance. White flowers covered adorned the venue; the only decorations the...

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“The Pumpkin King” by Andrew Sweet

Submitted to Contest #167

Cherry apple dripped over his bottom lip and rolled as a drop of red-brown syrup down to Clay's chin. At twenty-four, he'd still not given up many of his childhood vices, including the least destructive of which was a penchant for hard candies that could only be found around Halloween time in his hometown of Libertyville, New York. He sucked the cherry-apple-flavored liquid up over his lip, enjoying the tart sweetness on the tip of his tongue as he plowed forward through the snow in the open market. It was a Sunday, and he liked to make it ...

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“The Black Box” by Sumiko Courtney

Submitted to Contest #167

I scrutinize thousands of instructions. The surgical alterations must escape detection. “Diagnostic tests all pass,” the maintenance engineer mumbles, barely audible above the bus yard din. Checking off each item on his clipboard, he says, “Bus 554, all set,” not even bothering to look up. Gone are the days of civility. No humanizing nod or tip of a hat in this age of hyper-productivity, cost out, and running lean. Still, I’m grateful for my route. Each day, drivers lose their jobs, as autonomous vehicles take the...

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“Solipsism” by Paige Leppanen

Submitted to Contest #167

Abby didn’t curl her hair often, but today she wanted to look perfect. Her lips were stained red and her black lashes elongated. Every time she moved she sparkled—she’d tried a new body shimmer spray and she couldn’t stop admiring her arms as she stretched them out in front of her. Yet she knew enough about men to know that she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard, so she dressed casually but strategically. Her favorite denim shorts and a sapphire shirt with a neckline that teased men. She knew this was the date that he’d tell ...

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“20 questions” by CoCo Lee

Submitted to Contest #167

When I look into Aaron’s eyes, I feel little brown butterflies flutter and bounce around in my stomach. He catches my gaze and holds it, and then smiles. I smile too. I feel like I'm starring in a rom-com whenever I'm with him. “I’m glad you’re here.” He says softly while returning his gaze back to the cassettes he fumbles with. I pause, and search his face intently, then I mutter a mere, “Me too.” I stare at him and study all his mannerisms I have memorized. He stops and immediately stares me dead in the eye, ideas spinning around in that...

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“The Girl with the Rainbow Tears” by Delbert Griffith

Submitted to Contest #167

Everyone is happy when I take my meds. Except me. The meds are for “my condition,” as my parents and siblings describe my particular brand of schizophrenia. They’re all afraid to say the word. It’s a bitch to spell too. ************** “So, you are color blind,” the old man said. He nodded but he wouldn’t look Fargo in the eye. The boy seemed a little strange. “Not just color blind, my friend. Real color blindness. I can only see black, white, and shades of gray. It’s extremely rare,” Fargo said. He sounded both proud and despondent at this, ...

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“Adrift” by C. J. Peters

Submitted to Contest #167

No one can tell anything is amiss. I make sure of that.I sit in class. I raise my hand. I participate in group discussions.I go to work. I chat with coworkers. I type away at a computer.I take a walk. I nod at passersby. I pet a dog.Most days, I remember no faces, recall no words. It’s better this way.Each of these experiences is as real/unreal as the last.Today, I am both marionette and puppeteer. I tilt and twist and guide my body along. I delicately, masterfully pull the strings so I may make my painted and wooden body dance and sing. I a...

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“Cleaning house” by Nikki Potgieter

Submitted to Contest #167

This mind is a mess. I’ve lived in many of these kinds of dumps, fixing them up and moving on. I know that I’m supposed to be a professional, but there is a lot to do to get this place cleaned up. It’s like no-one ever did any kind of housekeeping to speak of, never cleared anything out, never threw anything away, never so much as picked up a pair of rubber gloves or a scrub brush. This place has needed attention for ages. It looks like that show, Hoarders - you’ve probably seen it: garbage is just piled on top of other garbage to the point ...

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“The Meaning of the Nightingale's Song” by MB Campbell

Submitted to Contest #167

The Meaning of the Nightingale’s Song(PREFACE—Part of this story you will find in children’s storybooks. But the rest, the part that happened after the fairytale, is not for children. It is the story of the never-ending battle between nature and artifice, between art and vacuous mimicry, and between lies and the real nightingale’s song.The fairytale began with an Emperor. A plump man with thin and auburn hair, a lock of which hung across his forehead like a banner. He wore jewels on three of the fingers of his right hand and on his left wris...

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“Herb's Brain Scam” by Murray Burns

Submitted to Contest #167

Herb’s Brain ScamDeep in the recesses of Herb’s brain, an emergency meeting of unparalleled import was just underway. "CC", representing the largest portion of the brain, the Cerebral Cortex, chaired the meeting as usual. The other powerful Union Bosses, each representing billions of members, in attendance were:-“Fronz”, representing the Frontal Lobe responsible for reasoning and motor skills.-“Perry”, representing the Parietal Lobe responsible for tactile senses.-“Temper”, representing the Temporal Lobe responsible for memory.-“Oxy”, repres...

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“Yolo” by Jeannette Miller

Submitted to Contest #167

“This was the greatest performance of my life. Every ounce of me was left on that stage tonight. The heart wrenching grief, the tearful monologue, the comedic timing in the second act. The standing ovation during final bows. They could not get enough. Bravo! Bravo to me! After tonight, this town will know my name. By tomorrow, the country; by the end of the week, the world. Accolades for my performance will come in messages, flowers, phone calls, and then the awards. (“Bravo Yolanda!” “Well done Yolanda!” “Your best performance yet!”) ...

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“They” by Jed Cope

Submitted to Contest #167

It’s all about survival. There is nothing else. I am under siege. People are animals and the world is a harsh and cruel place. Here I am in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. Worse still, I don’t know what to do about it. I cannot escape, so I keep building my survival strategy. It’s the only way. It is Monday. I am awake early, but that is not to say that I am up early. I lay awake in my bed and try to keep as still as it is possible to be. I cannot hear them. Not yet, but I know that I will. Sometimes I lay ...

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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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