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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#204: Wild, Wild West

The days of the old American West have long held weight in the collective imagination of storytellers. There’s a mythic power to it. Tales of survival, revenge, and itinerant gunslingers still draw us in, whether for a bit of adventure or to ask deeper questions about morality and philosophy.

The desolate desert landscapes, the struggles and conflicts between settlers and Native peoples, the wandering heroes, all these elements and more have inspired writers across genres, from George Lucas to Stephen King. Perhaps the best thing about a Western is its malleability and creativity: its ability to be set anywhere from America in the 1800s to a galaxy far, far away. So this week get your cowboy hats (or space helmets) ready as we go to explore the great unknown.

Plus, you're invited! 🎉

The second issue of PROMPTED, our literary magazine, is coming soon — and to celebrate, we're holding a live online event next Thursday! Find out more and get your free ticket right here.

This week's prompts

Write a story about a stranger coming to town and shaking up the order of things.

Character – 56 stories

Set your story in a desert town.

Adventure – 52 stories

Write a story about someone undertaking a long, dangerous journey.

Adventure – 39 stories

Write a Western-inspired story in a new genre or setting (e.g. a space western, fantasy western, etc.)

Fiction – 78 stories

Write a story about someone seeking revenge for a past wrong.

Dramatic – 73 stories

Stories

“Free Will” by Joel Wilson

Submitted to Contest #204

Daddy never told Jay what getting old feels like. He thought old was when the body began to slow down, and bones started creakin' more often. This wasn't it.Old now means one was lucky enough to survive the collapse and store enough water from the Colorado River before it all disappeared.The river is dry to the bone; ain't a soul brave enough to walk these parts without a pistol strapped to their side. Any drop of water is life, but it also means death.Jay shot a bandit a time or two. Theft is a sin though people weren't being taught that or...

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“Adelaide” by Holly Gilbert

Submitted to Contest #204

When Adelaide thought about how her day would be going, going down a canyon in a popped blimp that is currently on fire was not what she had in mind. The yellow snakes on her head hissed wildly as she felt the scorching heat on her skin. Of course she was going to get a faulty blimp! Just when she was going to get the most interesting story! No one in the city ever treated a gorgon with their utmost respect and concern. Let alone, a gorgon who is also a journalist. I am not dying like this! She thought fiercely. The blimp was being...

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“Wild Soapman” by Amanda Rantanen

Submitted to Contest #204

Since moving into my great-grandfather’s homestead deep in Oregon’s Cascade Range in 2020, it’s been just me and Poncho, my trusty Bernese Mountain Dog. My great-grandfather was Samuel Adams Squatch, otherwise known as S.A.Squatch. You might have heard of him but you likely never saw him. I bet you are wondering why I would want to be alone in the wild west. The answer is simple and complex. I’m a germaphobe. I was freaked out about the novel virus, I hated wearing masks over my huge beard, and I am scared of needles. It’s called trypano...

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“The Snipe” by Claire Creely

Submitted to Contest #204

Trigger warnings: weapons, animal harm and death The school parking lot, after school let out at 3 and before boy scouts began at 4, was a lawless place. But Jerry was ten now, and with double digits came double pressure to toughen up, put on a brave face, and keep his head held high while he ate baby carrots from a ziplock bag by the bike rack in the parking lot, keeping an eye on the other boy scouts romping his way. Today was his first day in scouts. Sure, he knew these boys from school. He saw them sitting in the back of the cl...

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“"Shootout at the A.R. Depot."” by Valerie Shand

Submitted to Contest #204

SHOOTOUT AT THE A.R. DEPOT It was dawn on Urelia X9G. Deputy U.S. Marshal Bat “Wild Bill” Masterson reluctantly forced his eyes open and stretched, groaning a bit as he did. He heard his joints pop and crack in protest of waking up and moving. He was snugly cocooned in his mummy-shaped, heat-generating sleeping bag that was tucked deeply into a cave. He’d needed it to survive the frigid overnight, but with the rising of Urelia’s three suns, X9G was heating up rapidly. Bill thought, I’m way too old for this assignment. I shouldn’t have be...

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“A Journey towards Serenity” by Lorraine B

Submitted to Contest #204

Like a delicate melody, raindrops patter the windowpane, gently awakening me from my slumber. Day after day, year after year, the scorching and relentless sun makes its mark, causing my heart to brim with gratitude for the soothing presence of rain. Presented in its purest and most pristine form, I cannot think of anything else that possesses a beauty greater than the gentle rain in the early morning.Gradually regaining my senses, I feel the soft embrace of bed sheets envelope my body, with its caress evoking memories of the tender cradle of...

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“One More Cowboy Ballad” by Dhruv Srivastava

Submitted to Contest #204

Along the streets of Goslin, shops formed an even line of large façades. Their dark brown wood was long since encrusted with dust and pummeled by weather. If one entered Main Street from the east, the first set of shops would be the convenience store and the local paper store. Then they’d find a hat shop and a general clothing store. A horse supply store would be next, directly across from the local saloon. Most folks didn’t go much further than there on their first stop in Goslin, but if they did, they would find the sheriff’s office, a sma...

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“'Revenges We Are Bound To Take'” by Marina Savva

Submitted to Contest #204

DISCLAIMER: There are some historical inaccuracies between the dates of publication and performance of plays and their coordination with Shakespeare’s personal life. However, much of the story is fictional, merely being based off of loose events and real historical figures. By no means is this meant to be fact as much creative liberty has been taken. Perhaps I really am too unforgiving. We all have our faults after all. Mine so happens to be one that has tormented me in a way I never truly will shrug off. When you want something so terribl...

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“I Always Pay My Debts” by Jesse Sloan

Submitted to Contest #204

I don’t know how long I was out. The horse was dead. My hands were tied and lashed to the saddle horn. My left leg was trapped under the horse, but it wasn’t broken. That was lucky. By bending forward and straining mightily I could just reach the rope around my wrists with my teeth. I’m not sure how long it took me to get my hands free. While I was working on it, the sun climbed high into the clear sky. The air was still and the sand beneath me was hot. The nearby brush did nothing to shade me. There...

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“The making of Woman” by S Fevre

Submitted to Contest #204

I had had enough. It all started with Dior. The making of Woman.They thought that shooting daggers into women’s heels made sense for post-war emancipation. Stilettos became popular when stuck up French men decided that women were going too many places too fast. So they put out the stiletto. Literally, "short dagger with a thick blade," (Italian, stiletto, 1610s). There’s something ironically tragic about the technology for war machines – hardened steel – being applied to women’s feet; more specifically, the dagger under women’s heels. It is ...

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“Revenge isn't for the innocent” by Amelie Van Aalst

Submitted to Contest #204

I've been watching unusual folks crossing the desert for as long as I can remember, but none so unusual as the little girl covered in blood, staggering so helplessly through the sand. "I take it you're lost," I call out to her, right before she finally crumples to the floor. Okay, so now I better step in, I think to myself as I run as fast as I can to reach her in time. Two fingers to her neck, a soft beat, beat, so I let out a sigh that this is still a child and not yet a corpse. I carry her into the town, all whilst knowing full wel...

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“No Time for Justice” by Ambrose Cole

Submitted to Contest #204

CW: Gun violence and language Not many people walk into the saloon at 10 in the morning. On most days, the dusty room is filled with nothing but the stench of ale and echoes of the previous night’s revels. The air lingers with the ghosts of men who have come and gone, chasing greater purpose than an evening of drinking in a hardly notable hamlet. Passersby pause their journeys for a night’s time to add their story to the symphony of lives painted in the air of the town bar, then leave newfound brothers for a tomorrow somewhere else. In this ...

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“Under the Front Porch ” by Ilyas M

Submitted to Contest #204

Every time I’m unsure, I look in the mirror and remind myself of the re-birth I’ve been allowed through this arrangement. My eyes scan the sheer baby blue fabric clinging to the soft lines of my body, when a pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist. He nuzzles his chin in the space where my neck connects to my shoulder. The beginnings of a smile tugs at my lips and I turn my head to connect our lips, running my fingers through his salt-and-pepper curls. He pulls me in closer and there’s a friction from our abdomens touching that elicits ...

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“6,287” by Walter Wright

Submitted to Contest #204

The actual presence of the moment is often the scariest thing. In the absolute of awareness, the mind is ignited by all thought. Possibilities, memories, and associations all revolve in a sporadic haze to formulate one forefront of cognition. The past and future fuse into a manifestation of what can be, and that is an action. Amid the rocky valley, thousands of people enter the present’s fold. Vibrations of anxiety and confusion scatter malignantly in each couple, family, and simple individual. The train station is fully stocked with...

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“All of it” by Bryan Saye

Submitted to Contest #204

Kate’s singing filled the saloon and shone despite the harsh droning of the off-key piano. The men stared in silent awe, eyes wide and mouths ajar. The drunks at the bar had turned on their stools, forgetting their drinks as they watched. Even the poker games lagged, the men gazing over their shoulders rather than concentrate on their game. Cornelius Walken—the saloon’s owner—stood just above her on the second-story balcony. His cheap suit struggled to contain his bulk, the buttons clinging desperately to the jacket like a drowning man to a...

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$250

Prize money

298

Contest entries

94

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Jun 30, 2023 EST

Won by Katy B 🏆

Title: The Ungentling

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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