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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#241: Et Tu, Brute?

“Beware the Ides of March!” In Shakespeare’s play, these fateful words are thrown at Julius Caesar during a procession through Rome, warning him of the day his compatriots will betray him. In the play, and in reality, this warning came to fruition. On March 15, he was stabbed thirty times by his fellow Roman senators, including Brutus, someone he thought he could trust. As that date is just around the corner, I find myself thinking a lot about Caesar’s story, and about other stories of betrayal.

It’s the ultimate breaking of trust. You thought they were a friend, a mentor, a close confidant, a person you could trust through thick and thin — only to find yourself stabbed in the back at the most inopportune moment. What leads people to make such a drastic decision, and sever a once unshakeable bond? How do you move on when your faith in the people around you is shaken? These are just a few of the questions to consider as we look towards the fateful Ides this week.

This week's prompts

Write about someone who is convinced they’re going to be betrayed.

Dramatic – 55 stories

Write about someone who is stuck between two opposing sides and can’t decide which one to choose.

Fiction – 49 stories

Set your story at a tense event where everyone is unsure whose side they’re on.

Thriller and Suspense – 27 stories

Start your story with an unexpected betrayal.

Adventure – 81 stories

Write about a backstabbing (literal or metaphorical) gone wrong.

Horror – 43 stories

Stories

“Why?” by Stephen Partain

Submitted to Contest #241

“What have I done, what have I done?” I whisper to myself over and over again. Becky is lying there, in a pool of blood. Dead? Maybe. I rush over to see if she’s still breathing, and she is. Oh, thank you, Jesus! I think her heart is barely beating, so I take out the knife from her back, flip her over, and start doing chest compressions. Five minutes ago, me and Becky were chatting and we were best friends. Or at least, she thought we were best friends. I’m going crazy and I have been for the past five years, I tell myself and as soon as I d...

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“Goodnight, Mommy” by Emily Towles

Submitted to Contest #241

The cold sweat on her palm threatened her grip on the knife. Still, she crept forward. The boy sat unawares, crouched on his knees, his hands and face pressed against the terrarium glass. The snake inside slithered toward the fresh mouse. He’d always been fascinated by snakes. It was his father who’d finally relented and bought him one as a pet. The boy never forgot to feed it, or check its water. She would often find him with hands splayed against the glass, hoping to catch the rare uncoiling. Fresh food was always the most effective method...

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“Mam-gu” by Leigh Johnston

Submitted to Contest #241

Mam-gu (pronounced Maem-gee, Welsh for grandmother)Trigger children under threatDespite the early spring, frost still sparkled in the sharp light. Clouds filtered any warmth from the evening sun, Safiya trembled, aching for longer days when light promised hope. Arthur led the way, his footsteps left tiny depressions in the turf, verdant islands surrounded by the undisturbed frost. Were it any warmer their feet would sink ankle deep into the waterlogged earth and they would have to take the long way home. Safiya yearned to be home, the countr...

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“The Death of Michael” by Kristen Shea

Submitted to Contest #241

Halloween was over and Michael was tired. He dug through the pockets of his faded blue jumpsuit and pulled out the key to his apartment. With a sigh he unlocked the door, stepped in, and flicked on the light. His eyes roamed the rooms as he shut the door with a soft click and slipped off his boots. The space was cozy, an oak coffee table, a worn leather couch the color of caramel, the sparse but clean kitchen. Well, except for the stack of mail teetering on haphazardly on the table. Michael mentally admonished himself for the third time that...

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“The colour crimson ” by Natalia Cosnett

Submitted to Contest #241

Note: sensitive theme- touches on historical genocide "What you are doing, get it done faster….," Those fateful words engulf me as each syllable rings in my ears, the context of the script that my twelve-year-old daughter is reading aloud penetrating my cavernous mind sharply, as a thousand knives to the jugular. "Mama? Mama?" My Anne's soft yet firm voice is like opera music that I wish will never end. Two months thus far, and it never gets easier. Today, the adrenaline running through my innards is particularly aggress...

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“A Silent Career: A Retrospective” by Rex L. Wyatt

Submitted to Contest #241

Letter IAugust 2010To Briggs and Mac,If these letters have found you, it means that I have been gone for five years. It also means that the time has come to clarify my life and career, which, as you are aware, I guarded passionately. I apologize for this secrecy. For reasons explained herein, however, I hope you can understand my reasoning. I hope you find some amount of interest in the life your grandmother and I pursued. Please keep these stories safe and within our family.Your grandfather, M.H. In 1975, I began working as a private invest...

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“Something in the Smoothie.” by Aden Wang

Submitted to Contest #241

“What’s the matter? You seem awfully concerned about something,” he uttered. A bead of sweat rolls down Tabby’s face. Staring into the abyss of her newly ordered strawberry milkshake, she fought to ignore the ominous feeling that something was wrong. She refused to drink this, not until he explained everything. Tabby had always been a paranoid young girl. Raised in an untrustworthy household, where possessions were mysteriously “lost” and trust torn apart like paper shreds, she couldn’t help but harbor concern o...

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“The Taste of Betrayal” by Alexandra West

Submitted to Contest #241

Five days. I’ve made it five days with a stalker snapping at my heels. He keeps to the shadows, finding comfort in the obsidian curtains created by the absence of light. Although my stalker is very real and very tangible, sometimes so close I can smell him, taste him even, there is an absence in his presence. A thick emptiness where joy and feeling and life all become grey. He’s been around for a while, this stalker of mine. In fact, I think he may have even preyed on my mother, sucking the life from her when she couldn’t outrun him anymore....

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“Paranoid” by Varshinie Sasitharan

Submitted to Contest #241

You know that gut instinct you have when you think, no you know something bad is going to happen and you’re all tensed and scared just waiting for the other shoe to drop. That's what I feel constantly. It's the reason why people call me paranoid but I know it’s logical and my circumstances are different. For the past year, I’ve been getting this letter in my mailbox, the envelope completely blank but the actual letter is what I find horrific saying “It’s never who you think it is.” Never straying from that exact sentence. What the hell...

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“Hostage by Jutta Hauke Arriola” by Jutta Hauke Arriola

Submitted to Contest #241

Please Note: Sexual violence, abuse, and mentions of suicide Day 1610. We’re all born with zero knowledge. With no fears, no things that give us joy, no nothing. It’s our life experiences that shape us with time. It’s not my fault that I always think I’m going to be stabbed in the back. That’s because I have been before, and I don’t want it to happen again. How am I supposed to know that everything will be fine? That the murderer in him won’t come out for fresh dinner? I hear the combination lock clickity clack, being fiddled with so that it...

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“One Size Fits” by John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #241

Britney offered her friends a plastic container filled with cookies made ‘all by myself.’Kerri held up her hand and shook her head. She’d tried the last and previous batches. Friend or not, there are limits.Taylor sighed, picked one and eyed it as if examining forensic evidence. She felt Britney watching as she nibbled and suppressed a wince.The three sat at their usual lunchtime table under the trees in the school patio. Lunch was almost over.“I made them myself with my Easy Bake Oven,” Britney said. Every time she brought cookies, which wa...

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“Either/Or” by Jennifer Luckett

Submitted to Contest #241

Either/Orby Jennifer Luckett Usually the choice is easy. Sleep so I can function the next day, or scroll my feed all night and drag myself up the following morning. Throw off the covers and face another day, or crawl under again and hide from the world. Store the shears in the craft drawer, or use them and bandage the bloody wounds after. Have the salad and run five miles, or eat more sugar and watch the numbers on the scale climb as I dive further into regret about how I look. Return the call and say yes, or ignore h...

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“Render Unto...” by Helena D'Argento

Submitted to Contest #241

T-tick; t-tock; t-tick; t-tock Jedediah Cypress shuddered. The room was warm, his bottle of water cool, the lights about him soft and yellow-white. In one corner of what he could not bring himself to call the cell stood an overstuffed recliner, plush and welcoming, and in another stood a bed—neither a camp cot nor a trundle, but an honest-to-goodness bed, with just the kind of floral duvet he and Marsha had always kept, a veritable cocoon of luxuriant high thread-count sheets a...

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“Kynigi” by Justin R

Submitted to Contest #241

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to.." The Chairman paused. "Nah, fuck all that. Who's ready to get hunted?!" He growled with a smirk. The room was quiet in judgment, wondering what he was talking about. He stood up straight and adjusted his tie."Let me rephrase that." He held out for another long pause. "As you know humanity has developed drastically in the world of medicine. You, a group in your thirties have basically only lived a fifth of your life span . Before such advancements, a fifth of your life would basically make you young adults,...

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“Stitch By Stitch” by Karla S. Bryant

Submitted to Contest #241

“Stitch By Stitch”by Karla S. Bryant When a room is in total silence, you can hear the pull of thread through muslin held taut in an embroidery frame. I focus on the sound and for a moment, roll the needle pressed between my thumb and forefinger back and forth. The open fireplace to the left is darkened with soot, but a fine fire keeps our sewing group warm. It’s unseasonably cool for September, and I’d worn my wool cloak when I went to the market earlier at Head House. Now I can hear thread pull through fabric from every woman seated in th...

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$250

Prize money

255

Contest entries

116

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Mar 15, 2024 EST

Won by Liz Grosul 🏆

Title: When I Read Beckett

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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