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#27 Agatha Christie

It's no secret why one of the most-repeated writing tips is: to read. You can learn endless craft wisdoms by reading the works of literary greats — and also lesser-known authors, too. Reading, in general, is simply a valuable way to improve your skills as a writer.

This week, we're pulling inspiration from the author behind two of crime fiction's most beloved sleuths: Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple. Yes, each of the below prompts relate in some way to themes, symbols, or other common elements in the writings of Agatha Christie.

Want to learn more about the Grand Dame of crime fiction? Check out our Agatha Christie reading guide!

🥇 Winner

Seaglass

Winner of Contest #27 🏆

That time of my life feels slimy and dank. My father belongs to the dredges of my memory where he sits, weaving a sturdy net with leather hands as I remember him. His boats leave a trail of shimmery black oil, the raw color of the sky on days of tormenting, angry waves and storms. The fish my father brought in were always cold and tasted of the sea, no matter how thoroughly my mother cleaned them or doused them in oil. She hated cleaning them, hated eating the same meal for a decade, but I loved it. I loved my father, with his seaweed ...

102 likes

⭐️ Shortlisted

Track Therapy

Christine Johnson

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Audra needs a quiet train ride this morning so she is purposefully taking a later train than normal. The sunrise train cars full of business people bickering about work-induced anxieties will be pulling into the terminal station tunnels downtown when she boards the eight-nineteen.With the Loomis presentation on digitizing their warehouse only two days away, Audra will lead the rehearsal for the entire team this afternoon. As project manager, she will orchestrate a cohesive narrative – ensuring everyone understands how their piece o...

12 likes

A Faithful Bet

Iona Cottle

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Another Sunday, and a beautiful one at that. It was one of those days that made believing in God so very easy. When the wind was warm and soft, and the sun was high and there was nothing urgent that needed doing that day. A pleasant hush lay over the village like a favourite blanket. It was only the start of summer, so the trees were still a vibrant green from the spring rains and the children hadn’t worn out their parents’ nerves yet. A Sunday that people dreamed off, the Sunday that everyone imagined when they were asked ‘What’s your perfe...

12 likes

The Train (Eternity)

Taylor Ingrassia

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Green pierces the dim light of the room. A whistle cuts across the din. The scratch of words on the thin paper in your hand tells you your train departs abruptly at 3 a.m. and, as the whistle and lights have warned, this leaves about five minutes to board. You pass through the crowds gathered on the platform, dialogue in countless dialects drifting apart from the rest to meet you momentarily. Each spoken word is different, yet familiar. Over your endless years of traveling this route you have had plenty of time to pick up on the sounds...

9 likes

Abel

Emily Vega

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

As much as Abel loved his wife, the smell of roast pig in the sweltering Arizona summer air made him fall in love in ways he’s never experienced before. The sun was strong and held the kind of power that conducted heatwaves to reach their twisting hands from the ground to the sky, cutting through stale air and red sunlight. Abel had been sweating in places he used to be sure he couldn't sweat; summer in Arizona does that to you, no matter how quickly you move through and how much water you douse yourself in. “How many flies ...

7 likes

Royal Orleans

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

. . . the clack-clack of a moving train. I pulled my left cheek from the worn wooden floor. The planks smelled of tar, dirt, and hay. The open boxcar door rattled as the green countryside zoomed by.I winced as a splinter pierced my palm. I shook my hand up and down to abate the pain. Bales of straw lined the front and back of the box car. In the distance, I heard a soft twittering sound. It reminded me of music producer Brian Eno’s synth line in the opening measures of “Once in a Lifetime” by the Talking Heads. How did I get here? I tho...

6 likes

A Horse Thief in Detroit

Ty Hall

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Rick felt out-of-place, like a horse thief in Detroit. Like he was born a century too late. Acrobatically anachronistic, he swung and looped into whatever time frame suited his mind, fluctuating from architect to astronaut on a whim. So he went to the saloon. He liked this bar. It was one of the oldest in the area and still had its original wood panels, hung upon which were tin signs and confessions of love (or obscenities) scrawled out in permanent marker. The bartender was new and didn't recognize him. The bar is called The Railyard. It wa...

4 likes

Painting a Picture

Wendi Zhou

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Jill stared out the window, gazing at the drab scenery passing her by. Or rather, that she was passing by, as the scenery was not strictly moving. The train she was on was speeding smoothly. It was a mopey kind of day, and Jill couldn’t bring herself to do anything but listen to the pitter patter of raindrops and take in the grayness of the landscape. She sighed. This trip was supposed to be a scenic getaway, taking the long-haul train across Canada from Toronto on her way to visit her cousin in Saskatoon. Instead, less than halfway int...

2 likes

This week's prompts

Write a short story that takes place on a train.

High School – 127 stories

Write a short story about a jury of people tasked with making a decision. (It doesn't necessarily need to be a court jury.)

Adults – 29 stories

Write a short story in which a specialist is called upon to carry out a job.

High School – 36 stories

Write a short story that ends with a twist.

Mystery – 154 stories

Write a short story that takes place in a quaint, idyllic, English village.

Fiction – 31 stories

Stories

Seaglass

Winner of Contest #27 🏆

That time of my life feels slimy and dank. My father belongs to the dredges of my memory where he sits, weaving a sturdy net with leather hands as I remember him. His boats leave a trail of shimmery black oil, the raw color of the sky on days of tormenting, angry waves and storms. The fish my father brought in were always cold and tasted of the sea, no matter how thoroughly my mother cleaned them or doused them in oil. She hated cleaning them, hated eating the same meal for a decade, but I loved it. I loved my father, with his seaweed ...

102 likes

Little Cruelties

Mark Jackson

Submitted to Contest #27

Tuesday, 4th of September 2018Even though I know you don’t care, I’ll tell you anyway: Since you left, I’ve been asleep most of the time. I still think about what happened with you and the kids, and how I ended up like this. I’ve written it all down here, between the pages of this notebook. Who knows, they might even use it against me one day. A motive. Yesterday, I got out of bed around one, it’s amazing how long you can sleep for if you simply lie there. The longer you lie, the more tired you become. Keeping the windows and vents sealed he...

62 likes

The Passenger

JE Rowney

Submitted to Contest #27

The Passenger The stench of Lynx from the man next to me is mildly more appealing than the stale, sweaty smell that it is trying to conceal. As if the temperature and proximity of the other sardines in this carriage weren’t enough to make me want to throw up my breakfast; this guy is about to tip me over the edge. This summer is sticky and stifling; this day is heavy with heat.I nudge Davey and make an exaggerated facial expression. He nods and smiles, puts his hand on mine. At least we have seats, even though that means my eyes are dir...

43 likes

On the rails to Dong Ha

Derrick Kakooza

Submitted to Contest #27

It was a bright Monday morning on January 23rd. Looking through the window on my left, I could see that the sun was a big fiery ball in the sky. The clouds stood still, the trees gently swayed and all life seemed to be at peace. I stretched gently and reached out for my yoga mat. I had just started doing the Downward Facing Dog when I received a call from Merlyn. She had moved to a new city and wanted me to pay her a visit.Merlyn never made appointments. She always expected me to say yes on all occasions. I had to choose between the 10:30am ...

26 likes

For The Love of Money

Submitted to Contest #27

Zauberman For The Love Of Money ClickBefore I can even blink, the weird man with the ski mask has the business end of a shot gun pointed straight at my face.“Give me the money”. His voice is low and hoarse, as though he’s just getting over a cough.I start to laugh while shitting my pants.Oh god, oh god, oh g...

26 likes

Mr. Brown's Retirement Plan

Dana Schellings

Submitted to Contest #27

Everyone, no matter how ordinary they might seem, has at least one extraordinary story to tell. Take the case of an ordinary man named Mr. Brown, a retired truck driver from a quiet New England town. Mr. Brown spent decades driving produce all over the country until his company took him to dinner at a moderately priced restaurant, handed him a gold-plated watch and showed him the door. Since then he’s spent his days watching golf on TV, feeding the ducks in the park, and plotting to kill his wife. Mr. B...

18 likes

Why a Lottery?

Scott Blanke

Submitted to Contest #27

Hordes of robed populous crowded around the few stalls. The stench of unwashed bodies permeates the air. The market holds little produce and what there is fought over valiantly. Waves of heat come off the sands making up the floors. Street urchins wearing rags beg on every corner. The customers ignore the emaciated beggars. The crowds are so dense, one has to bull one's way up to any stall. Rudeness is the norm. The background hubbub is deafening. No one seems to be listening. A r...

16 likes

What a Lovely Irony

Submitted to Contest #27

Isn’t it ironic? Me, a comedian, a man made of jokes, in the most miserable place that you could ever possibly imagine. I stood over her casket and brushed my fingers across its polished wood. As I stared at the casket’s outside, I didn’t dare look inside. To see her pale face and flushed cheeks. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and moved on, letting a line of her family members file behind me. Throughout the rest of the funeral, all I heard was a cacophony of apologizes. “I’m so sorry.” “She was too good for this world.” “There was noth...

15 likes

Blackbird's song

Pauline Breatnach

Submitted to Contest #27

Two white swans glided elegantly along by the banks of the river Brin. Three cygnets paddled furiously behind. Eighty- year- old, John Smith, walking his dachshund, stopped to watch, shielding his aged eyes from the glare of the spring sunshine. At intervals, bunches of crocus added a dash of colour to the, as yet, greyish landscape. A spring breeze held the promise of warmer days.Lady Priscilla was seated by the open window of the study. April breezes stirred the cream coloured lace curtains. In the chilly sunshine, cobw...

15 likes

Power of the Tongue

John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #27

Wyatt put his plastic glass down and nodded to the bartender who opened a one-ounce bottle of gin, emptied it over the ice and topped it with a squirt of soda water.“You want a fresh slice of lime?”Wyatt shook his head. “I’m good.” He raised the glass and drank. “So, the key is to get in early before the flies gather. Like Palm Springs before Bob Hope bought land out there. Just desert. Buy low and sell high. Like I did for the California bullet-train right of way.” “I bet there were a lot of sweetheart deals there.”“Everyone wanted in on th...

14 likes

A meeting, a rescue and a remembrance

Lauren Smith

Submitted to Contest #27

Myles tented his slim fingers together, pressing his fingertips together until they blossomed purple under the dim light from the train compartment light overhead. The light was yellow, not white, and put everything around him into sepia tones of brown, orange and tan. It was a boring carriage, as train carriages went. Unplumped cushions sluggishly slouched on the wooden benches and gold trim peeled at the signs affixed to the walls. ATTENTION! They declared, DO NOT LEAVE YOUR LUGGAGE BEHIND! That was all very good, Myles presumed, if you we...

13 likes

Cownapped!

Submitted to Contest #27

“OK, I'm off to work,” I said, holding the doorknob.“Bye Mommy. Have a great and super day!” Norman said, turning his blonde-mopped head from his coloring book.“Thank you. And as always, behave for Mr. Lemon.”“I will, Mommy!”I took one last look at him then left, closing the door. I walked to my car when I spotted something gold. I walked straight ahead in the street and stopped. “MOO!” uttered the gold cow who was the size of a house cat.“What the... A gold cow?” As soon as I said it, it disappeared. I blinked. “I must need more sleep! I go...

12 likes

A Faithful Bet

Iona Cottle

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Another Sunday, and a beautiful one at that. It was one of those days that made believing in God so very easy. When the wind was warm and soft, and the sun was high and there was nothing urgent that needed doing that day. A pleasant hush lay over the village like a favourite blanket. It was only the start of summer, so the trees were still a vibrant green from the spring rains and the children hadn’t worn out their parents’ nerves yet. A Sunday that people dreamed off, the Sunday that everyone imagined when they were asked ‘What’s your perfe...

12 likes

Branded

Libby Carter

Submitted to Contest #27

“So what do we do with him?” Elise asks. It’s just our family now, what’s left of it anyway. The five of us are sitting at the kitchen table in what used to be our Aunt Ebony’s house. By the five of us, I mean my siblings. Bridgett is the oldest, then it’s Elise, me, Arrow, and Firefly. Her real name is Aria, but that nickname has been stuck since she was a week or so old. “We either,” Bridgett pauses and gulps, “kill him . . .or lock him up in a jail cell. We have to vote on it.” “I don’t think we should kill him....

12 likes

The Scepter of the Priest

Ahmed Wael

Submitted to Contest #27

The gates were wide open, thick high gates of pure gold, decorated with many elegant hieroglyphic symbols and spells that prevent the king's enemies from trying to assassinate him. Hiding behind them a very large hall, at the end of which the great throne made of pure gold settles in the middle between two statues for two giants with the head of a jackal and a human body, a huge throne that accommodates a giant, which makes the queen appear slim in size.The guards advanced inside the hall pushing a short, slim man compared to the two giant g...

12 likes

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Contest #27

This contest has ended. Thank you for your submissions.

$50

Prize money

377

Entries

0

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Feb 07, 2020 EST

Won by Natalie Frank 🏆

Title: Seaglass

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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