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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 Monster Under Her Bed” by Ivy Butterfly

Submitted to Contest #217

Dedicated to my new little sister, we may not be related by blood but we are related in spirit. We live in the mansion up the winding road. Yes, that mansion. The one with the bats perched precariously on the windowsills and spiderwebs littering every corner and strange screams from time to time. It’s just my little sister and I, and I promise we’re not scary. Everyone says we’re scary people with a scary house, but I prefer to think of us as quirky recluses with an eccentric living style. Our story takes place around two...

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“Her very own horror.” by Amirkhan Ideluly

Submitted to Contest #217

Kristineth wasn’t your average girl, or at least she wanted to think so. She was a goth, a dedicated one. That meant you’d never see her wear anything but corsets, chokers, and cardigans—all in black. No matter the time or place, she could only ever be seen in this gothic attire and engaging in “true” gothic activities: reading cursed books from the Internet, studying cases of occultist murder, and learning Latin, of course. Though, sometimes it could be Arabic. But she wasn’t a… quirky goth… the one that everyone feels attracted to because...

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“A Bad Stink” by Viktor Klimczyk

Submitted to Contest #217

The old witch must have died in her garden. The smell of pungent decay was snaking out from behind her house and resting bodily in the southern heat. The humidity did nothing to attenuate the issue. The stench had come suddenly at dawn and reached everybody in town simultaneously. Nobody was enthusiastic about the prospect of collecting the corpse. Outsiders deemed the townsfolk superstitious. The townsfolk deemed themselves sensibly cautious. They traipsed around the issue for hours until the stench got so bad, the men putting up the telegr...

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“The Seemingly Magic Mansion” by Tracie Johansen

Submitted to Contest #217

Upon first glance, the mansion on the hill appeared to be run down, practically in ruins, on the brink of collapse. The house was gloomy and had been neglected for what appeared to be decades. Suddenly, as if by magic, it burst into a magnificent display of pristine beauty. It had undergone a dramatic transformation and was now coated in a radiant shade of white accentuated by a sleek black trim. The windows, doors, and shutters are all stunning. Beautiful light fixtures illuminated the house, and there was a splendid array of flower...

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“Lobster Fishing and Nail Polish Don't Mix” by Jacqueline Monty

Submitted to Contest #217

I was seventeen when I signed up for the lobster fishing mentorship. I went to the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Vocational High School in Bristol, Maine, past the Lincoln Academy that was set on a hill looking down at us voc-cattle as they called us. We called our school the Longfellow voc school. Funny to name the school after a poet when it’s really a career & tech school with both cosmetology and animal husbandry. I was late for orientation and viewed the sign-up sheets. All mentors were filled except Captain Underpants, or that’s ...

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“Dynamite Has A Short Fuse, And So Do I” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #217

Parnell, Iowa 1885 “I still have half a dozen ponies to break and get to market,” Avery Cooke says. “Besides, Skeeter’s not ready for something like this.” Snuffing out his pungent cigar, Andor Cressy, the rotund owner of the Zenith Mines and the Top Dollar Ranch gives Avery a grim look. Avery corrects himself. “Mister Skeeter.” “And don’t you forget it. You people have been free for twenty years and you act like you’re my equal. I ain’t above whippin’ nobody, black or white, who sasses me. When I say teach the boy how to use dynamite...

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“Bird Strike” by James Walter

Submitted to Contest #217

Swinging slower and slower overhead, all four blades were nearly stopped. "Time to find out how bad it is." Jose pulled off his headset slipping it on his shoulder and opened the sliding door. Awkwardly he climbed the side of the helicopter to the hydraulic deck, climbing past Chewy who gave him the thumbs up from the pilot's chair. He slung his tool pouch over his shoulder. Terrance climbed up deftly behind him, "That bird came out of nowhere!" Following the blood streak to the engine, Jose hopped onto the cowling and popped the two ta...

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“Lydia” by Alexia Barrail

Submitted to Contest #217

The taste of the bar of soap used to hand wash her father's trousers injected bitterness into Andrea's cheeks. Floral notes of artificial jasmine mixed with the taste of battery acid on her tongue brought tears to her eyes. "Maybe this time you will learn not to talk back to me." Lydia yanked on the hairs at the nape of Andrea's neck as she pumped the wide bar in and out of her mouth. "If your mother was not already dead, I would murder her for leaving me such an ungrateful brat." She pushed Andrea into the sink in the small corner of the s...

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“Xalares, The” by Clairine Daphne Tjahjono

Submitted to Contest #217

The steel grew heavier and heavier in his hand as his breath turned to heaving, and with every heave the dragon’s swipe, the dragon’s bite seemed to grow more ferocious – faster, too close for comfort. But with the lives of the thousands waiting in prayer – the thousands who should be prepared for death the moment his blood spilled over the cold, wet cavern floor – on his shoulders, he mustered the strength for one last strike… With a great leap, he soared over the dragon’s gaping maw, legs barely missing the pointed end of a giant, elongat...

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“Sir Vordle and The Not So Typical Dragon” by Justicelee Auman

Submitted to Contest #217

Mr. Ettings rushed towards the throne room, eager to alert King Soloman. He ran past guards, too slow to stop him. “Halt!” They cried, chasing after him. He crashed through the old carved golden throne room doors, filled with unspoken stories, told by sculptures trapped in the metal. The king looked at the man sternly, “What’s wrong, citizen? Who are you?” He asked simply. “My lord, ple-, please, a dragon. I saw a dragon. My name is Mr. Ettings. Up on Mt. Eesrek. I don’t know where my boy is. He’s a curious one. I think he ...

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“Peace” by Danielle Hall

Submitted to Contest #217

Peace Written by Danielle Marie Hall Young Gladwin was a curious boy. He preferred the company of creatures to people any day. Luckily, he was raised a shepherd and trained well by his parents. He loved his sheep and his dog who helped him in the work. He loved watching the sun rise and set from the grassy hill his sheep lived in. He loved the fresh bread and cheese his mom and sister prepared. He loved the sound of the wind passing by. He was happy from the moment he was born. He saw nothing in his future that would change that, fo...

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“Vanquishing Dragons” by Sande Harris

Submitted to Contest #217

“You look too dumb to be a hero,” commented the iridescent green dragon sunning himself in front of the rock wall opening, “Are the villagers running out of them and sent you instead?” Two other dragons sunning next to him gave the human long lazy looks. “He looks like a study in brown. Not good brown, more like a boring brown? The brown of burlap, potatoes, dirt that gets under my scales…” said the dragon wearing a large sapphire around their neck. “Is he wearing a bathrobe? Can heroes slay dragons while they a...

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“A Veil of Amethyst ” by Alex Soto

Submitted to Contest #217

Dalton had a lifelong fascination with the varying uses of fire. It could bestow warmth and life, or its light could shine the way through certain darkness; but the smoldering embers before Dalton told a different story: one of an end. The putrid, steaky odor fumigating Dalton’s sinuses was one that could only be created through the scorching of the human body. Dalton gave an involuntary snarl at its stench. This was the second victim discovered this year. Only two months had passed since they lost Bremmer. Clivedale dismounted...

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“Venedig” by Joey Balk

Submitted to Contest #217

July 22, 1961 “I love you but—” “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say it.” I shifted on my feet uneasily, not quite knowing what to do with my hands. “Let’s just—let’s enjoy the time we have left.” I took her hand and squeezed it, giving her a nod, but my expression must’ve been solemn. It’s hard to enjoy something when the end of it is fast approaching; in sight even, just ten hours on my watch. All you can focus on are the grains in the hourglass that are falling way too quickly. “Let’s find a shop, get some wine.” The streets of Venice are ...

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“The End of Herself” by Tatham Baker

Submitted to Contest #217

A small, meek man walked down the street. He held a physics book under one arm and took each stride with purpose and valour. He quickly pushed his hair to the side in a quiff as his mind began to race on what his thesis could actually be; theorems and formulae that were far too complex or specific smashed themselves around his head like bats screeching within a cave, clouding his thoughts in dark, leathery wings. The sun beat down on his scalp as he restyled his hair into the aforementioned quiff. He pushed his glasses up his sweaty nose as ...

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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.

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