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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#217: Tropes

Last week, we revisited the old “show, don’t tell” rule. This week, let’s throw out the rulebook and have some fun.

In your reading, you’ve probably come across some recurring tropes. In romance, we’ve got star-crossed lovers, fake relationships, enemies-to-lovers, and happily-ever-afters. In fantasy, we’ve got Chosen One protagonists, reluctant heroes, and wise mentors. In mystery, we have unreliable narrators, jaded investigators, locked rooms, and remote settings. It goes on.

Subverting these tropes can be fun, but the tricky thing is that you need to do it for a reason, and in a way that enriches your story. Can you do it?

This week's prompts

Write a story about two characters who like each other but don’t get a happily-ever-after.

Romance – 91 stories

Set your story in a creepy mansion — except nothing horrifying takes place in it.

Horror – 64 stories

Write about a person who's been called to mentor someone in a special skill, but doesn't really want to.

Adventure – 27 stories

Write about a sleuth who’s a little too keen, but not because they have a traumatic past they won’t talk about.

Mystery – 10 stories

Write a story about a warrior who doesn’t want to kill the dragon.

Fantasy – 91 stories

Stories

“The Property” by Aaron Schmidt

Submitted to Contest #217

I sat in a dark and quiet slumber for so long until late. Many, many seasons ago it had been since a handful of men nailed boards to my doors and windows, bringing quiet and darkness to my halls for the first time since I came to be. For a while it was just lonely but slowly the paper began to degrade and peel from my walls, scattering prints of flowers all throughout my floors. A lonesome pain. The branches of trees around me started to push against my siding, scraping the paint away. Cold air would come and my wood contracted from every na...

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“The Nightbringer” by Melody Charles

Submitted to Contest #217

Elias tried to make out the blotted words as he held the small piece of torn paper, and put his hand on his face in confusion. Whomever wrote this letter, did he rush? When did he leave? And why did the letter rip? There must be the complete letter, somewhere. The ink had smudged, leaving a few fingerprints that appeared monstrously thick, like they belonged to a hand not human. You have until midnight the chunk of paper warned. He slammed the antique drawer back in place and crumpled the paper up and stowed it away in his le...

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“Terrarium” by Alex Kramer

Submitted to Contest #217

It stared into the instruments floating like wind chimes. It was lying face-up on a medical examination table deep in the cellars. It noted, like so many times before, the rust dulling what dangled above. What fluids had hardened into this sickly burnt orange? Blood and iron. Saliva and silver. Corrosion in action. It would keep tabs on the progress within an infinite memory. Or it would forget. And that would be just the same. Nothing so banal really mattered anymore. This was about feeling, not science. It flung its legs over the...

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“A Disembodied Voice” by Zachary Lombardo

Submitted to Contest #217

The buildings at the University were scattered like used textbooks with facades of wood, masonry, and concrete for covers. In their radical inconsistency the buildings showed the decades of disagreement and the independence of the faculty as well as the ebb and flow of “new ideas”. There were Greco-Roman columns, gothic buttresses, and brutalist masses of concrete, sometimes all in one building. Not all the buildings were in use, of course. Grant funding is a fickle mistress. A program could be killed by a simple change of focus leav...

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“The House” by Pebble K

Submitted to Contest #217

The house was haunted. It was a stately affair, the kind of mansion that had fallen into disrepair after its family decided to leave. On sunny days, one could hardly think that the dead would haunt the place. But on darker nights, there was something strange about it, perhaps even the reason why the family decided to move in the first place. There was no way to truly pin it down, just a shifting in the air and the way the ground seemed to swallow every whisper. The boy wished he could go back in time to when things were kinder, but of course...

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“Yellow” by Gina Nelson

Submitted to Contest #217

The double gate creeks as I push through the cold, black iron fencing. The sections groan inward toward the yard as I put my shoulder into them. The road I came from is mostly dirt now with crumbly blacktop mingled with tall, flowering weeds. Yellow. The color of Judy’s sheets when she was on her deathbed. I shake it off. The flowers are pretty, for weeds. I force the gate doors closed behind me to keep out the dread. It’s been two months now, and I am still not comfortable with being alone in this huge place. It’s oversized, and I keep ge...

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“McMansion ” by Nicole Ortiz

Submitted to Contest #217

Small forest amphibians struggled for air in the thick mucus-like bubbles coming up from acres of a dreadful mire. When these bubbles popped, they released an earthly stench so disturbing, that even those creatures which had somehow made it to the shore of some solid surface, perished at the first inhale of such a wretched release. The lives of these many mangled innocent were gnawed on slowly and sadly by birds with heavy beaks and black, greasy feathers. The sheen of their dark coats shone a dark blue where it was greasiest, and reflected ...

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“Teaching a Sacrifice” by Hermit Of The Lame Lands

Submitted to Contest #217

I have not enjoyed life for a while now. I’m a Teacher in my family, and I teach the Caster a terrible burden. It weighs on us both heavily. I almost wish we could switch positions. I’m an old man, and I don’t want to go through these lessons again. I don’t want to teach someone else how they’re going to die. There is a powerful demon that once plagued these lands. Our family, the Zindels, protected our hometown from it with a powerful, terrible sealing magic. The Death Lock. A magical seal that is fueled with the soul of the Caster. B...

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“Dear Life” by Jed Cope

Submitted to Contest #217

“You’re not ready.” The words were barked. The words were a denial. Those words hit hard and they hurt deep. “I would never be ready. Not by your reckoning anyway,” said the young lad. Turner walked away. There was nothing more to say, not as far as he was concerned. And so it went. The lad returned every evening. He was not short on determination. Turner thought him stubborn. That could be a good thing, but it was likely bad. Stubborn people found it difficult to listen. And if they did listen, then they seemed incapable of ke...

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“Death” by Peter Gerber

Submitted to Contest #217

“ Listen here pal, i ain't selling you any more cocaine! You pay up late,plus I'm starting to think you might’ve developed a slight cocaine addiction problem and I don't want any part of it!” “C’mon old man! Why do you always have to do me like this?” “If I knew you were going to be knocking on my door every 5 days, I wouldn't have sold you anything in the first place! My other clients have been complaining about a certain “junky” hanging outside my apartment and its affecting business! Now scram you little weasel!” “Ill pay you in...

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“Sleepyside Summer. ” by Julie Grenness

Submitted to Contest #217

Sleepyside at summer again. Sister Heloise, the young one, had escorted the much older nuns to their summer retreat. They were on vacation, to relax on a sunny shore, rest, replenish, paddle in a sparkling bay. Their summer abode was the usual very old-fashioned timber dwelling, by now familiar. Sleepyside was a slow old place, only one store, with a petrol pump at the front. People went to Sleepyside, off the beaten track, to replenish their wellbeing on a sedate type of holiday. Sleepyside was not yet trendy, a place where time passed, th...

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“By the Pound, Ethically Sourced” by Robin Hollars

Submitted to Contest #217

“A dragon is not a devil.” Mordred takes a deep drink of rich red wine. The drink is sweeter and more bitter than the one he grew up on. Without water to dilute it, Mordred can only handle a few sips at a time. The villager standing before him waits, ears red and chin pulled down as he tries to avoid Mordred’s gaze. Eventually the dramatic pause carries on too long into awkwardness. The villager clears his throat to speak. “I-I don’t understand, Sir. Do you mean you will not fight him?” “A dragon is not a devil because he is something f...

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“Armour too Fine for Slaying a Dragon” by Hope Linter

Submitted to Contest #217

Humming, Nebneb polished his bronze helmet and breastplate and used a special brush to clean out and polish all edges and crannies. Hours passed by in moments, and sometimes he’d be in a position so long, he’d get stiff and have to move around. He held the breast plate up to admire its shine, and met the stern reflection of his father, chief Elbisnopser, of their tribe, Nogard Sreyals. “You’ve been polishing your armor all morning. It’s time you joined your training partners. Glander and Meangle are already much faster and better shot...

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“Merciful Blade” by Marc Wilks

Submitted to Contest #217

Two months. That's how long Marcel and his company had been tracking the beast. Two months of following partial tracks and village gossip. They traveled through woods, across rivers, and over vast plains. After all that time and a chance encounter with a woman in Granholm, it was only now that Marcel stood at the entrance to the cavern where they were told they would find the monster they sought. Marcel Travers looked over the men and women under his command. All were wearing the armor of the Drakon Guard, the most loyal and elite of the kin...

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“Draconus Lazarus” by Retro Bolic

Submitted to Contest #217

“I have scribbled down three reasons as to why I should not kill you, Dragon.” “I’d be most interested in hearing them, warrior.” I unfolded the parchment tucked between my plates of armor and cleared my throat to speak. “Firstly: To kill you requires an amount of confidence. A confidence in you, that I believe you will forever be evil and cause suffering in others. A confidence in myself that I will forever know my decision was correct.” The dragon nodded its head. “Secondly: I must believe you are evil. I have heard from countles...

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$250

Prize money

283

Contest entries

130

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Sep 29, 2023 EST

Won by Paul Crehan 🏆

Title: Who Are We to Judge the Music of an Octopus?

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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