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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#57: Legacies

Everybody hopes they’ll be remembered. It’s a big part of why writers write, artists paint, and singers sing. It drives some to rise to great heights in politics or business. It’s part of why people have children.

But whether you hope to build a legacy through words, kind deeds, grand ambition, or a strong familial line, the truth is, we don’t always know how history will look back on us. All we can do is put our best selves forward, and hope that our integrity and values will resonate long after we’re gone.

This week’s prompts invite you to delve into people’s hopes for the future — and the legacies that may or may not be what they dreamed of.

This week's prompts

Write a humorous story about the descendant of someone remembered for an insignificant act.

Funny – 73 stories

Write a story about someone who’s famous for something they never actually did.

Character – 119 stories

Write a story about someone breaking a long family tradition.

Angst – 170 stories

Write a story about someone who travels to the future, and isn’t happy about how they’ve been remembered.

Science Fiction – 131 stories

Write a story that starts with someone writing their will — one they know people won’t like.

Dramatic – 183 stories

Stories

“His Last Wishes ” by Erin Wallace

Submitted to Contest #57

A familiar madness stirred within. He tried to suffocate it using his starving eyes to search the room for distraction, for solace. The space had drastically expanded it’s aura of empty material weight. Out cycled a heavy sigh and he went back to crumpling up the sheets where the ink left unpleasant splotches. The kinds of decisions that were about to be made intimidated him perhaps more than death itself. Even wasting paper had given him an unfamiliar guilt because of the outrageous costs nowadays, though he could afford thousands of sheets...

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“The Will of Mr. Smith” by Isaiah Ellis

Submitted to Contest #57

Allen Smith, a pastor at the local church, knew he was going to die. He just didn’t know when. Having been raised to a widowed mother after his father was murdered because of drug dealing. His brothers and him followed suit and also became drug dealers. The difference between him and his brothers was that he’s still alive. Well up to now, at least. Now, Al is consistently seen eating at Han Son Sushi once or twice a week, and today wasn’t any different. Al had been sitting next to his favorite window around 45 minutes. He was writing his wil...

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“Trust: For You” by Earvin Eugene

Submitted to Contest #57

Chapter 1: Attraction Imagine a serene setting in the British Isles. Foggy and fueled by capitalism. Sophisticated in culture but gritty in entrepreneurship. A London fantasy where creators like The Beatles, Ed Sheeran, Adele and the like developed. A nobody connected to the machine with the combination of talent and serendipity to perform for the world. Here stands Jason Black, a young boy who wanted opportunity. He would play his melodic guitar strings and provide simple yet meaningful vocals outside, while recording on Tik Tok. The hope ...

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“Not My Fifteen Minutes ” by Mary Brown

Submitted to Contest #57

Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame, that glorious moment when they're in the spotlight, the center of attention. Some people not only get their fifteen minutes, but they somehow extend it to a lifetime of fame. Not only do they get the fame, bit they get all the wonderful things that comes hand in hand with fame. But what happens when you haven't earned that fifteen minutes of fame or the lifetime of fame that sometimes follows? What if you, an unsuspecting, completely regular, totally boring person, gets fame that was meant for so...

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“Famous for nothing” by Sue Fourie

Submitted to Contest #57

It was a small settlement of white folk in a large expanse of rural land in Rhodesia in the early seventies. Marty's husband Peter, had the job as an agriculture officer, teaching the natives to do modern farming, the goats who ran amok were very destructive to the vegetation, to the point of turning the bush land into a dust bowl. The natives were taught how to pen their goats. Contours had to be placed in the maize fields so the rains would not wash the top soil away. Maize is the staple food of the people, called sadza once cooked, with a...

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“Goal” by Henry Farley

Submitted to Contest #57

Goal by Henry Farley The team mumbled between themselves, not used to being put in such a difficult situation. The school scheduled the first team to play a crucial match at the weekend, and a win could send them to the top of the league table. This would be their last chance for a practice game before the big match. It would give them a springboard on which to develop their strengths and mask their weaknesses. “I’d rather play a man short,” said Colin, testily. “I know he won’t play the same as Mike but we’ll be using a zonal...

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“Fame” by Cienne Refaelle Esparcia

Submitted to Contest #57

The golden rays of sun touches my face as it risen. I am currently drinking my coffee here in my room's balcony while watching the sun rise. I close my eyes and heave a sigh as I felt the warm breeze. The sunrise symbolizes a new day. A new day for me to start all over again. My dream is to become a model in a magazine since I was five years old. I don't know but I really love fame and everyone's attention. I love having everyone's attention, but sadly my family deprived it to me. It was like I am not existing in their life. That they ...

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“I didn't do it.” by Muhammad Shahir

Submitted to Contest #57

I didn’t do it. A story written and submitted by: Muhammad Shahir The bright, blue, tropical lights blinded my fake face. I was wearing the same fake smile for about half an hour. All I could see was happy, upbeat faces looking towards me with all their hope. It felt really weird. I was sitting on my chair, with a bunch of hosts stuffing their big plump microphones in my face. They kept on telling me to speak. “SPEAK! SPEAK!” They all yelled in union. “Alright, alright!” I scream, giving the gesture with my hands that they sh...

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“Oblivion” by Ariana Monteab

Submitted to Contest #57

Trigger warning: suicide Since I was a child, I always wondered what would happen to me when I die. Would I simply be ashes? Or would somebody notice my absence? Sometimes the scary idea of disappearing from the memories of everyone I loved was what made me think twice about some decisions that crossed my mind. I learned the hard truth of humankind: we are inevitably afraid of oblivion. I learned that in a way that nobody could ever imagine. I was so afraid of being forgotten by everyone that I did something terrible. I was in my...

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“Saving the Children” by Kiley Dumas

Submitted to Contest #57

Bob sighed, knowing what was to come, partially dreading it while another part of him relished in the global pettifogging. As the curtain spilled aside, Bob presented himself to the audience from stage left, never right (it was in his contract), and awoke to the applause from the audience. Scanning the crowd through the eye watering bright lights, Bob noticed fewer people than last time, which was fewer than the time before. Didn’t matter, if they knew the full story this crowd wouldn’t even be here, and an entirely different group wo...

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“Writing Wendy” by Christina Ziroli

Submitted to Contest #57

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Like, it's actually really, really macabre, what's happening here. I know that. But now I'm telling you, dear reader. Here's my story. The story about how I, Elodie Stone, stumbled accidentally into fame, ripping the knees of my jeans in the process. The story about how it's all a hoax. I'm coming clean.Let's back up for a minute. I come from a normal suburban home on the outskirts of Augusta, Georgia. My father is an accountant, and my mother is a stay-at-home mom. She's always been a PTA mom, a killer ba...

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“The Lost Sergeant ” by J.P. Gans

Submitted to Contest #57

Everyone in Grout County knew stories of ‘The Lost Sergeant,’ a drunken soldier, who roams the desert on a stolen horse. He rides, according to witnesses, in circles across the county. His horse is old, the saddle withered, matching the similar state of the Sergeant’s uniform, still adorned with, now rusted, medals. Those who pass him certainly live to tell the tale. He carries a pistol with seemingly unlimited bullets but has never hit a passerby. He just shoots at them wildly and never, not even by a hair, does he ever hit anyone. Some spe...

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“The Empty Chair” by Tim Benson

Submitted to Contest #57

“The Empty Chair” It was an invitation that I had ignored every five years when it came in the mail; the request for me to go back home for a reunion with my classmates from Greenville High School. It was an ongoing chance to revisit my youth but I’d always given it a pass. Every time I’d opened past envelopes addressed to Ronald Wayne Hastings, which no one ever called me, I simply checked the RSVP box that read “Sorry, I will not be attending”, added the words “And my name is Ronnie” and sent it back. Every time I’d checked that box I did ...

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“The building walls of lies and deceit” by Nusirat Odunewu

Submitted to Contest #57

On a cold night, i sat at the corner of my room cold and pale as several thoughts ran into my head. Then i quickly recalled on an incident that happened at school as i recalled on the incident .I began to get furious at Amilia my childhood friend at least lets say she was. It all happened at art class , when our art class teacher Mrs pickle weather said she had an announcement to make ,she said a painting contest was coming up and the best painter gets their painting hung in the school hallway and gets a statue that best defines their wor...

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“March the Writer” by Ro Sheli

Submitted to Contest #57

Piercing stares. Heavy whispering. Soft gasps. March Henderberry lowered his head and pulled up his hood. The chills began to travel up his spine and spread into the rest of his body. In his stomach, something twisted. He bit his lip and scurried on to his destination: his first period classroom. Of course, the stares, whispering, and gasps continued inside the stuffy classroom. It was worse than outside. March shuffled over to his seat and slumpe...

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$50

Prize money

676

Contest entries

0

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Sep 04, 2020 EST

Won by Iona Cottle 🏆

Title: Et Tu?

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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