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#235 Running Wild

Every day, countless people around the world participate in some form of running, from jogs to ultramarathons. And that simple act of putting one foot in front of another is a deceptively meaningful one; it’s something that transcends pure sport, and that can be used as a metaphor for various life experiences.

Running has a powerful psychological effect, as it often mirrors or influences our mental state. Just think about how often it pops up as an image in literature, to express a character's behavior or mindset (think running on empty, moving in circles, heading towards trouble, escaping problems, racing against time, and so on). This week, let's explore the theme of running and some of its interpretations in storytelling.

🥇 Winner

KILLER IN THE WILLOWS

Kajsa Ohman

Winner of Contest #235 🏆

KILLER IN THE WILLOWSJust do it, so the T-shirts say. Just pick up the gun, pull the trigger—but maybe aim first, aim at the upper sternum and then pull the trigger, congratulating yourself that at last, in your long, passive life, you have shot somebody dead. So she did, and thus she became a murderer. She slipped through the night after that and disappeared into the willows to wash off any blood that spattered onto her clothing. The willows were thickly interlaced, with an overpowering smell, acrid and watery. The stream flowed t...

122 likes

⭐️ Shortlisted

Dispatched

Deidra Whitt Lovegren

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” Casey moved to the edge of her chair, fully aware that all eyes in the Dispatch Center were on her. She struggled to focus on her first call, her mind ruminating on the “we-need-to-talk” text she sent Michael that morning. Her boyfriend had grown distant since starting classes at the community college. “9-1-1. What is your emergency?” she repeated more loudly.Click.Casey tapped her console, disconnecting the line before immediately calling the number back. She had been trained to expect numerous han...

127 likes

A Decently Modest Proposal

Allan Bernal

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

Hey you! Yes you, reading this story! Don’t worry, this isn’t some piece of meta fiction, I’m dictating what I say to a gracious volunteer who’ll post it for me. I’ve got an offer for you – and no, not like a door to door salesman peddling dull kitchen knives or what have you. You see, my offer is as genuine as a baby’s first laugh. My name is Donald Basemore-Cooper – quite a mouthful I know, my friends call me Donnie, DB, Coop, Basement, and so on, take your pick, they're like paint samples. But the people I do business with? Oh, they cal...

22 likes

Flight Risk

Allis Connor

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

My parole officer said I’d hardly notice the system. Once I grew accustomed to the minor physical intrusions—the dual ankle monitors, the belt with no buckle, and the generic smart watch—it would be smooth sailing for the next month. My only task was to stay on the straight and narrow. She never said what was considered “antisocial behavior,” or clarified what form the “nudges” would take. The judge had said something about “diversion” when he imposed the system, but I couldn't bear listening to his full justification. My ears buzzed. Fu...

19 likes

What Lies Beneath

RC Riggs

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

In the deep, far, far beyond where the last flicker of sunlight fades away into an inky blackness, where the cold slows heartbeats to a nearly imperceptible pulse, and the incredible pressure of the ocean above warps the bones of ancient ships that lay deathly still on the seafloor, an unseeing eye blinks sleep away. Eons had passed along the surface as the creature slept. Puffs of clay muddies the water as it slowly writhes, working out its body's stiffness from its long slumber. In the deep, something dark stirs, one thought rippling acr...

19 likes

In Memoriam Flight

AR R

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

In Memoriam Flight by Adam Ryan (Note: This story deals with survivor's guilt from the death of young man, suicidal thoughts, and alcohol/recreational drug abuse) On the way to Will’s house, you and Danny smoke a thousand cigarettes, but don’t talk much. It’s tense. A couple in a fight with kids sitting bug-eyed in the back. But that’s not it. You’re not a couple and neither of you say anything because there isn’t anything left to say – you may be headed to a party but you both know what it really is. A funeral encore. There’s a roach i...

17 likes

Homesick

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

The cheapest urn cost a hundred dollars, so the mortician packs the ashes in a plastic bag and staples his business card to the front. Hold your loved ones close, it reads in blotched black ink. “In case you change your mind. My number’s on the back.” He dropped his yellow-toothed salesman smile a while ago. Right after he realized I couldn’t afford any of the empty metallic boxes standing on the shelf behind him like gentrified government buildings on a new Freedom City side street. He shoves the bag across the warped countertop tow...

16 likes

General

Hannah Lannswift

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

My eyes fly open like I’m waking from the dead. I start up, tossing aside the blanket that had been tangled around my legs. Something woke me up. I kick dirty laundry out of the way and shift my body to sitting up. Head swimming. The sunlight is too bright in the room and I find myself squinting around. When I lean forward, my phone tumbles off my lap, hits the edge of the coffee table, and clatters to the floor. I wince. “Shh!” I hiss at it. Why is that so loud? It echoes through the whole house. I look down at the dark phone way far away...

12 likes

A Fate Worse Than Death

Sive Rivers

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

It was the third time Arizona had stopped for gas in the last two days. She always went inside to pay, since she always had to grab some type of caffeine now. She was surprised how quickly her life had changed, and exactly what parts of it were different, than they had been on Saturday. Her sister was peacefully asleep in the passenger’s seat while Arizona pumped gas. That was almost all Micah did now. Arizona wouldn’t complain about it. Asleep, but alive, was just fine by her. While she sipped on the overpriced energy drink, she stared off ...

12 likes

State

Cameron Navarre

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

A gunshot crackles through the air. You flinch. A wisp of smoke rises across the field. A blur of bodies bursts away from the gunman. Arms and legs swing furiously. You anxiously shift your weight back and forth. Your foot begins to shake. Breathe. The mass of sprinting bodies curves and hurtles towards you. You stare at the white tape on the ground in front of you. If you start too early or too late, you’ll never recover. Wait. The screaming and yelling swells. Wait. Your hearts pounding, your fight-or-flight instincts scream for rele...

11 likes

This week's prompts

Start your story with one or two characters going for a run.

Adventure – 37 stories

Write a story in which a character is running away from something, literally or metaphorically.

Angst – 119 stories

Make a race an important element of your story.

Narrative – 44 stories

Write about a character who suddenly cannot run anymore.

Character – 42 stories

Write a story that includes someone saying, “You can’t run forever.”

Dialogue – 64 stories

Stories

Dispatched

Deidra Whitt Lovegren

Shortlisted for Contest #235 ⭐️

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” Casey moved to the edge of her chair, fully aware that all eyes in the Dispatch Center were on her. She struggled to focus on her first call, her mind ruminating on the “we-need-to-talk” text she sent Michael that morning. Her boyfriend had grown distant since starting classes at the community college. “9-1-1. What is your emergency?” she repeated more loudly.Click.Casey tapped her console, disconnecting the line before immediately calling the number back. She had been trained to expect numerous han...

127 likes

KILLER IN THE WILLOWS

Kajsa Ohman

Winner of Contest #235 🏆

KILLER IN THE WILLOWSJust do it, so the T-shirts say. Just pick up the gun, pull the trigger—but maybe aim first, aim at the upper sternum and then pull the trigger, congratulating yourself that at last, in your long, passive life, you have shot somebody dead. So she did, and thus she became a murderer. She slipped through the night after that and disappeared into the willows to wash off any blood that spattered onto her clothing. The willows were thickly interlaced, with an overpowering smell, acrid and watery. The stream flowed t...

122 likes

Hopeless Aid Station

Submitted to Contest #235

The thing about going the distance is that it is non-negotiable; you must take every miserable, unrelenting step on your own steam—like it or not. David had his hands on his knees, dry heaving, at the foot of the highest mountain pass in the Colorado Rockies. Dry heaving was nothing new. He could handle dry heaving all day long. David’s Garmin Sportswatch displayed the elevation: 9,983 ft. 2,617 feet to the top. The saddle was 12,600 feet. Should take about an hour and a half, he thought. If he didn’t collapse first.As his stomach eased, Dav...

50 likes

Run, Fatso, Run.

Submitted to Contest #235

Harris and I have been trampling the tarmac for decades now.We know we’re a couple of fatties at heart, there’s no denying it. But if I cease my regular run, I’ll lose the bet and return to Fatsville.I have a recurring nightmare about my wager with Harris. There’s tsunami of wobbling belly flab, thighs and bingo wings. It chases me across fields, down a high street and all the way back home.Breathless, I slam the door behind me and it charges down my road.I’m sure if I stop running, it’ll catch me.God forbid that happens.*&nbs...

48 likes

Never Been to Paradise

Submitted to Contest #235

Author's note: This story is heavily based on the 1977 Charlene song "I've Never Been to Me". I do not own the rights to this song or its lyrics.TW: Mentions of abuse, marital sexual violence**October 7, 1978Buckle Rod, AlabamaDear Charlene (or, whatever your name is),Firstly, yes, I can finally admit it: meeting you two years ago was indeed, as you put it, fate. I must admit that I was, at first, visibly annoyed when you, looking every inch like a Golden Age film star in your Hermès scarf, approached me at the park, only for you to preach -...

40 likes

Another Brick in the Wall

Mary Bendickson

Submitted to Contest #235

Another Brick in the Wall “Miss Chandler, Miss Chandler. The boys are at it again.” Third-grader Tali Grumble hurried over to her teacher at recess. “What are they doing now?” Miss Chandler inquired. “Playing baseball and running the bases.” “Not again? How many times must I remind them? Guess I'll have to report them to the principal this time. He will not be happy about it and will probably give them detention. Thank you for letting me know.” !o!o!o! “Mr. Carr, I am sorry to report I am having trouble with the boys at recess again. They ...

40 likes

The Wall

Submitted to Contest #235

Everyone on the high school cross-country team had the same Steve “Pre” Prefontaine poster on their bedroom walls, but I was the only one who took it literally. “The best pace is a suicide pace, and today is a good day to die.” That was the quote. And I bought it, hook, line, and sinker. During my hard runs, I would picture the “red line” as a brick wall, and the idea was to somehow gather enough steam that when I hit the wall, I would crash right through.As I vault off the grassy section of the 5K cross-country route and crash into the cove...

39 likes

The Edge

Liz Grosul

Submitted to Contest #235

They got it wrong. The Earth was flat all along. And moments after sinking into her overworn running shoes and stretching her calves like a cat shaking off sleep, Lori had the proof. It’s not that she was a maniac who liked running. The Morning Run was a longtime nemesis, the Moriarty to her Holmes. It proved rather unfortunate that this daily medieval torture provided the only cure to her abstinence. Three months. No boyfriend; dumped. Tear-soaked pillow cases and far too many empty Ben & Jerry’s pints. Real Housewives, ten pound...

37 likes

A Slice and a Half of Apple with a Teaspoon of Peanut Butter

K.A. Murray

Submitted to Contest #235

I have always hated going to the doctor. They ask too many questions, and they stare at me intently with kind eyes while I try to answer. This appointment in particular has been worrying me for the last day, ever since the incident at soccer practice yesterday, when Eliza was tearing down the field during a scrimmage and I went in for a slide tackle, winning the ball, and instantly felt a sharp pop in my knee and excruciating pain shooting through my body. The whole thing was my fault; I should have gotten to the ball sooner. I was a jun...

36 likes

In or Out

Michał Przywara

Submitted to Contest #235

Later that month, Harris Darrow would reflect that it was a turning point in his life, the key to a door he hadn’t realized he’d been looking for, a treatment, if not quite a cure, for the vague malaise that had been following him like a shadow since birth, but at the time he thought it was the end of the world when he got mugged. His date stood him up at the Gargantua Club, in Lowtown. Not his usual haunt. Not his usual neighbourhood. The vibe of the cracked bricks and littered streets, in the concrete shadow of the freeway above, didn’t me...

35 likes

The Little That You Have

Submitted to Contest #235

The poor in Farthing keep getting poorer. The less you have the more they take. That’s Farthing. Take Lucana and me. We live in Widow’s Mite, on the border of Fayetteville, in a boxable unit, in a stack of similar boxable units, in a dirty forgotten quarter, on a nondescript block, that forms a section of an unpaved tract, beneath a jagged palisade, where the city planners neglected to account for stormwater drainage so that it floods with every single storm, where Jackboots come and go where they please, and freely take our belongings or st...

34 likes

La-Z-Boy

Hazel Ide

Submitted to Contest #235

Gemma's dramatic wails echo down the hallway, the tinny sound carrying like a sharpened porcupine quill, direct and unwelcome. Avery sighs, glancing briefly toward the hall where his wife cries—with the same emotional gusto as when her pick on The Bachelor doesn't win, so there's no telling how upset she actually is—then back to the credit card bill on the table.He pours a finger of scotch over ice, sinking his weary self into the old leather wingback in the darkened den. The contrast of the papers stacked on the low mahogany table is s...

33 likes

Shattered Mirrors

Hannah Anderson

Submitted to Contest #235

[Trigger warning: Mental health] I can never escape, she will be with me even when I'm alone. After all, who wouldn’t hate the person who killed their sister? Sweet, sweet, Laina never did anything to her. She tells me it was an accident. It was not! I know why she did it. It was because every time she heard my sister’s footsteps it made her want to scream, a little miss perfect was coming down the hall to greet her with flowers. The killer tells me over and over, again, again, she did not do it on purpose! How could you push someone of...

33 likes

Walter, Eddie, and the Crocodile Monster

Chelsey B

Submitted to Contest #235

Walter came crashing through the back door. He zipped into the playroom and dumped out a bin of costumes. Frantic, he dug through the clothing, and gave a sigh of relief when he found what he was looking for. Walter slid a red superhero mask over his eyes, then threw a red and yellow cape around his neck. He fumbled with the velcro. In his rush, he struggled to get it to stick. “Ugh! Why won’t this stay?” Walter grumbled. “Slow down and focus, Buddy,” his mom, who was reading a book on the couch, reminded hi...

32 likes

Just Keep Moving

Charlee Sage

Submitted to Contest #235

I’ve always hated this place…correction this place has always terrified me! The cold chill in the air does nothing to bring me comfort; just keep moving. The smell of disinfectant reminds me of the sterile mundane nature of some of the people who actively choose to be here and all they’re here for. The heavy weighted feeling of hearts who exist in either a state of shock, hope, or despair consumes me. Yet here I am…and all I feel is panic. As my mind continues to race with memories I have to remind myself that this, is not “that.” But now...

32 likes

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Contest #236

This contest has ended. Thank you for your submissions.

$250

Prize money

306

Entries

118

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Feb 02, 2024 EST

Won by Kajsa Ohman 🏆

Title: KILLER IN THE WILLOWS

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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