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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#185: Hoarding Away

Much like dragons, people love a good hoard. Whether it’s money, objects, or even people, collecting can be a hobby — or an obsession. Our collections might be a maximalist hodge-podge shoved into every nook and cranny, a meticulously organized catalog with every item neatly labeled, or they may not even be tangible at all. Junk or riches, thoughts or feelings, even if we don’t know it, we might be unconsciously clinging on to something.

This week’s prompts evoke treasure troves, keepsakes, and whatever it is that compels us to hold on tightly.

🥇 Winner

“Jesus and Jockeys” by Lynda Williams

🏆 Winner of Contest #185

CW: stillbirth, brief violence I had to decide what to do with Jesus. Take him home in the backseat of my Versa, or carry him outside and place him beside the triple duty Glad bags at the end of the drive. I knew I was in trouble when I discovered the drawer with all the Jockey underwear. There must have been at least a dozen unopened packages. Three to a pack. All white and French cut. I could hear her extolling the virtues of cotton from the grave. Say what you will about my mother, she understood the value of fabric that breathes.&nb...

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⭐️ Shortlisted

“Back to the Stars” by Suma Jayachandar

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

I land in the new pod like a feather. Softly. After gathering stardust, air bubbles, and dirt on my way. At my core, yet tightening like a coil, are memories of me; gathering, entering and ejecting from the pod, a million times before this.I know it is only a matter of weeks before my mind begins to form and the memories from before get pressed against its wall. Deep into the subconscious. The way to which will be heavily guarded afterwards. With that, I will forever lose access to the lifetimes I roamed on this mud ball.My new mind will not...

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“Manic Menagerie” by Nona Yobis

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

It’s 4 AM, and the alarm is set for 6. But I am awake anyways, my brain wired despite a lack of sleep. I decide to get up and begin my morning routine. Every morning, I take time to examine the pieces of my menagerie. It really sets the tone for my day. I cannot do anything else before looking at each one individually. I check my pocket to find them all there, as they always are.First, I examine Perfectionism, and hold it close to my chest. I love it. I need it. It makes me feel whole. It reminds me that I cannot drop a single item in m...

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“Traces” by Casey Dexter

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

I sat on the front porch just as the sun was setting. My feet were up on the glass coffee table, and I could see grains of sand stuck around my toes. The chimes that dangled from the neighbor’s patio swayed in the light breeze. Sipping on the Pimm’s my dad had mixed for me, I studied the houses lining our narrow street, admired the trimmed sidewalks, the sandy pathways that led down to the beach. I’d sat here many times, at all ages, all heights, all varying awkward stages of puberty and studied this exact block. Watching families pushing st...

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“The Long Goodbye” by Sophia Jowers

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

CW: Death, grief I couldn’t even bring myself to throw out your mug. It wasn’t even a nice mug. The rim was chipped. The ceramic was lumpy—I was almost positive you’d made it yourself—and for some reason, you’d painted it the color of pea soup. Out of all of your things, this should have been the easiest to get rid of. And instead I stood in the kitchen for fifteen minutes, like an idiot, just holding it, and then I put it back on the shelf. You hadn’t even liked this mug. “I was planning on throwing that away anyway,” I could imagine ...

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“Fénix in Finisterre” by Samsara Lind

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

Trigger warnings: contained scenes depicting mental health, suicide/self harm, substance abuse, and physical violence. Finisterre, present day Mari Carmen stared at the items she had thrown into this metal barrel which had been set up as a firepit by her hospitalero1. A stack of origami hearts with hidden love letters, a heart-shaped spatula from their spoon carving class, and a home-made pilgrim shell painted with the blues of the sea and the vivid splashes of red and orange representing the sunset she had witnessed moments ago from t...

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“A Millennium Hoard” by C. J. Peters

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

Four million six hundred thousand and eighty-seven, four million six hundred thousand and eighty-eight, four million six hundred thousand… Nearly seven days had passed since he began and almost every relic, coin, gem, weapon, bone, miscellaneous magical artifact, and whatever-else-have-you was categorized and accounted for. This was easily his largest hoard yet, and though Wyrith had kept only his most favourite thousand or so rubies from his preceding collection, this hoard was already more than double his last largest one.Wyrith paused his...

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“Saint Anthony Frankenstein” by Henri Porritt

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

3:00 am, three sharp bursts of noise break into the thick comfort of sleep. They tell me you’re gone.She disappeared.It’s a tragedy. Nothing to be done. I sit, body numb, as the echoes of some old wives tale about the ‘witching hour’ rattle in the quiet fear of my skull. Painful anticipation and shock crawling up my spine. In some sick spite - I wonder whether to pray, the sour taste of initial grief coating my tongue and twisting my mouth into some begging incantation.No, I decide. I am not a believer.Not in God, and his mysterious (random)...

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This week's prompts

Write a story about someone who doesn’t know how to let go.

Dramatic – 121 stories

Someone’s beloved collection is destroyed. How do they react?

Adults – 25 stories

Start a story with someone saying, “It’s mine, and you can’t have it!”

Dialogue – 25 stories

Write about a dragon who doesn’t know what to do with their hoard anymore.

Fantasy – 63 stories

Set all or part of your story in a jam-packed storage unit.

Mystery – 46 stories

Stories

“Jesus and Jockeys” by Lynda Williams

🏆 Winner of Contest #185

CW: stillbirth, brief violence I had to decide what to do with Jesus. Take him home in the backseat of my Versa, or carry him outside and place him beside the triple duty Glad bags at the end of the drive. I knew I was in trouble when I discovered the drawer with all the Jockey underwear. There must have been at least a dozen unopened packages. Three to a pack. All white and French cut. I could hear her extolling the virtues of cotton from the grave. Say what you will about my mother, she understood the value of fabric that breathes.&nb...

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“The blind Man's Mona Lisa” by Mohamed Sarfan

Submitted to Contest #185

Please don’t look at me like that again and again. When you look at me, memories of dad saved as waves in the heart sea take birth as tears. When you hold my hand wishing to talk to me I’m breaking myself as glass. When you breathe the abundant air difficultly, I’m melting as a snowdrop thinking about this strange life. You light up the eyelid in the dark room slowly, my heart is shivering. I’m introducing my dad who left me a place like this showing the photo, “This is my dad”. You are looking like greeting my dad. Just slowly spend the ...

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“Aesop Was a Jerk” by Wendy Kaminski

Submitted to Contest #185

Look, I had pica, ok? Oh sure, Aesop tried to disguise his retelling and pretend it was just some "random" fable he "suddenly" invented, but everyone knew who and what he was really talking about. Thanks to him, I've never heard the end of it at our volcanic-barbecues-slash-virgin-roasts. I'm Larry. That's right, Larry the FireLizard, go on and get it out of your system. My folks weren't very creative when it came to naming their whelps. To be fair, there were about 200 of us, and pretty soon you kinda run out of the interesting stuff. At le...

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“Back to the Stars” by Suma Jayachandar

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

I land in the new pod like a feather. Softly. After gathering stardust, air bubbles, and dirt on my way. At my core, yet tightening like a coil, are memories of me; gathering, entering and ejecting from the pod, a million times before this.I know it is only a matter of weeks before my mind begins to form and the memories from before get pressed against its wall. Deep into the subconscious. The way to which will be heavily guarded afterwards. With that, I will forever lose access to the lifetimes I roamed on this mud ball.My new mind will not...

Read story

“With Time and Effort” by Michał Przywara

Submitted to Contest #185

It is out of love that I find myself in St. Catherine’s Cemetery on a cloudy night, with an oil lamp in one hand and a shovel in the other. I will not lie; my stomach roils just as the sea churns nearby, and I search every howl of the wind for the constable’s whistle, and every looming shadow for a mob. Master Hartley’s eyes are wild and his hair, normally kempt, tears madly at the sky. He is an apparition, and had I courage, I would have stopped him ere we set out this eve. But there is colour in his pallid skin again, and he grins. Th...

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“Letting Go” by Daniel Fernandes

Submitted to Contest #185

Time goes on, and I find myself scrolling through my photos. An irritation like a bite from a mosquito. Twenty years and our relationship became one cupid opposed. It's been nine years since the breakup, and I can't seem to let her go. Days drag like a bag of laundry. I miss you despite the cruelty. Crazy because I defined loyalty. While you were fucking and lying simultaneously. Damn. It's been nine years, and I can't shake it off. Yet the memories flood in as if I forgot. Trying to switch the attention to somethin...

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“Bottled Up” by Laurel Hanson

Submitted to Contest #185

First, everyone was needling me to figure out what the jars were for, and now I’m being written up because of them. I sit in the HR office with the HR lady, the charge nurse, and my boss, Mrs. Stevens, who’s the head of custodial services. Everything is done by committee at the retirement community where I work in the assisted living wing, so it’s going to take a committee to decide to fire me. Mrs. Stevens has a face like a billboard, advertising disapproval. She is not about to have the reputation of her cleaning staff sullied by the l...

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“Manic Menagerie” by Nona Yobis

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #185

It’s 4 AM, and the alarm is set for 6. But I am awake anyways, my brain wired despite a lack of sleep. I decide to get up and begin my morning routine. Every morning, I take time to examine the pieces of my menagerie. It really sets the tone for my day. I cannot do anything else before looking at each one individually. I check my pocket to find them all there, as they always are.First, I examine Perfectionism, and hold it close to my chest. I love it. I need it. It makes me feel whole. It reminds me that I cannot drop a single item in m...

Read story

“The Scrolls of Garguana” by C.B. Chribby

Submitted to Contest #185

With one fell, destructive swoop, all fifteen thousand, nine-hundred and twenty-three books were destroyed. The Brigadier’s Bounty, the galleon that had been used to store and transport the arcane texts from isle city to isle city crashed into the water under the weight of the Nautilus Leviathan’s gargantuan tendrils. It was all Elsbeth could do to manage her way through the thrashing waters into the remains of a lifeboat. Just as the fate of the galleon, the lifeboat was smashed in fragments, leaving only vaguely artificial pieces o...

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“What, Me Worry?” by Murray Burns

Submitted to Contest #185

What, Me Worry?We’ve all experienced it, that terrifying, heart-stopping, pit in the stomach moment when you realize all is not well in the universe- your car isn’t where you thought you parked it, a valuable item rattles around in the sink for agonizing moments before it disappears down the drain, an empty pocket where your wallet should be. Henry’s traumatic moment hit him like an earthquake. He was stunned, dazed, shaken, and he would soon undertake the long, painful journey through the Five Stages of Grief.“Honey, I’m home!”After twenty-...

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“There’s Always Tomorrow” by Viga Boland

Submitted to Contest #185

“Am I a hoarder?” my darling 81-year-old husband, Ralph, asks me. I know this is one of those Do or Die moments i.e. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t answer him honestly. With over 50 years of marriage behind us, I know how sensitive he is and I don’t want to ruffle his drooping feathers. He’s always told me he likes me to be honest, but when I am, most of the time he doesn’t like my honest answer. What do I say? “Um… do you want me to be honest, Ralph?” “OK, so I AM a hoarder eh?” Ralph shouts, not realizing he’s shouting. He...

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“An Elephant Never Forgets” by Michelle Oliver

Submitted to Contest #185

Miss Parker was the very definition of refined. That’s what my dad said anyway. I didn’t believe him, I’d looked it up in the dictionary and it said nothing about Miss Parker.She lived on our street, three houses down on the opposite side of the road. Her house had been there for forever, old, but not decrepit. A place that looked like a castle or a haunted mansion without the spiderwebs. The street-facing windows were gently curved in a fancy arch and high on the wall by the front door was a circular window, like a single large eye watching...

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“The Second Hand-tique” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #185

Sergeant McTavish hurried along the pathway, passing the local shops lining the centre of his small Scottish village. Responding to reports of a public disturbance, he had been dispatched to investigate and to quickly quell the melee. However, upon turning into the open lot of Rico Colombo’s Second Hand-tiques Recycle Centre, he found himself confronted by the almighty cacophony of a dispute between two women arguing over the validity of a sale. “IT’S MINE AND YOU CAN’T HAVE IT,” shouted the smaller and younger looking of the two women. “I l...

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“And Then There Were Nine” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #185

Cardboard shoe boxes tower high the walls of our cramped entrance hallway of the apartment on East 23rd street. The ones I need are in a large box at the bottom of this wobbly pyramid. I hold the box above it against the wall, and using my thumb and the very tip of my pinky finger, pull the green box labelled Hoka out.A voice rings out behind me, “You have ten pairs of shoes in the hallway. I think you need to get rid of a few.”“But I need to rotate my shoes to protect my feet,” I say defensively to my wife Melissa.“Ten pairs?”I can’t see he...

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“Family Dinner Night” by Amanda Lieser

Submitted to Contest #185

CW: swearing Of course it was on Bethany to call to make the reservations for dinner at 7pm. Because Bethany works Monday through Friday 8-5 in an admin position with a dental office. Tyler travels for work, Erin is in law school, Shelly just started her internship with the Women’s clinic, Logan was working from home, but never wakes up before 12, and Jake?Jake made Bethany’s heart flutter. Jake may or may not have a job. He barely answers the group texts; he doesn’t answer Bethany’s phone calls, or acknowledges Tyler’s postcards that e...

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$250

Prize money

280

Contest entries

138

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Feb 17, 2023 EST

Won by Lynda Williams 🏆

Title: Jesus and Jockeys

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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