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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#70: To Err Is Human

The other day I realized I’d made a pretty big mistake in the book I’m writing. This isn’t anything new. Writers of all skills levels make plenty of mistakes — if we didn’t, editors would be out of a job — but it’s still frustrating when you realize you’re going to have to throw out a few thousand words.

But writers aren’t the only ones who make mistakes, or at least we shouldn’t be. In order for your characters to grow and be interesting as people, they’re going to need to make some bad choices of their own.

This week, let’s dig deep into all the things your characters can mess up, whether it’s because of a deep-seated character flaw or just a really bad stroke of luck. The sort of thing that will haunt them for years to come, fuel their deepest regrets, and form a cornerstone of their personality going forward. It may be tough to put them through the emotional wringer, but I promise your story will be better for it.

This week's prompts

Write about someone who’s so obsessed with a goal that it leads to the destruction of their closest relationship.

Sad – 154 stories

Write about a character who everyone thinks is guilty of something terrible, but isn’t.

Thriller and Suspense – 179 stories

Write about someone trying to atone for a mistake they’ll never be able to fix.

Angst – 192 stories

Write about two people who know they’ve made a mistake, and one of them wants to tell the truth but the other wants to lie about it.

Kids – 120 stories

Write about a character who’s so afraid of making the wrong choice that their indecision ruins the very thing they were hoping to keep safe.

Sad – 85 stories

Stories

“Knobby Knuckles” by David G.

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #70

When had his knuckles gotten so knobby?They didn’t used to be this way - his knuckles. He was sure of that. There was definitely a time when the skin was smooth and taut over the joints, the lines thin and shallow.Now the bone protruded sharply beyond the fleshy parts. An old man’s hands. Deep creases wove between pink and white splotches, winding their way to his palms where they zigged and zagged, combining in places and separating in others like tributaries in an ancient river delta. On the fourth finger of his left hand, a pale depressio...

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“To tell or not to tell..?” by Moon Lion

Submitted to Contest #70

Ciaran's mouth bubbled with blood, and the knife came down once more, making a clean cut. I almost hurled, clutching onto Aliza in the equipment cupboard. Her breaths were getting louder and I tightened my arms, trying to suffocate her, shut her up. The killer gleamed under a plastic cover, mask and dark clothes free of any blood. He stood up, and my heart stopped beating. He had Ciaran's phone in his hand, one bloody glove smudging the screen with red. Aliza pressed into me, and I felt craziness take over, feeling the urge to sw...

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“Silent Deception” by Anna Mosqueda

Submitted to Contest #70

A lonely groan escapes my mouth, echoing through my nearly empty room. Everything has been packed up into boxes except for the calendar on my wall. I slowly unfold a black pullover, stretching it over my unusually large amount of purple hair. Grabbing a black pair of jeans, I notice the smell of bacon floating through the air conditioning, into my room. It’s enticing but I know that my mother is most likely holding the pan up to the vents, luring me to come downstairs, also known as a trap of despair and false love.I splash water over my fac...

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“Watching Everything Fall Apart” by Libby Carter

Submitted to Contest #70

Clara left for work thirty minutes early just because she wanted to be there. Because she was excited to do her job, and that was everyone’s dream wasn’t it? With steaming coffee in her hand, she walked down the halls of the spaceship called Ajax. It wasn’t the largest one there was, but it was the one that had saved her family all those years ago when Earth had to be abandoned. She was so young when that happened that she didn’t remember the event. The windows on the ship halls looked out into the beauty that was the outer spa...

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“The Prodigal Son” by Godwin Efu

Submitted to Contest #70

ONE"Mama, I'll be fine," Nancy said, and as always, it made her mother cry. "I know, I know," her mother said. She wringed a weak pitiful smile that she always smiled. And again as always, she turned her face, wiping off her tears. Slowly, Nancy's mother rose from the bed and began to check on the IV, then to the screen of the system for her vitals. Michael, Nancy's eighteen years old brother sat observing them on the far corner of the room. His little sister was as sick as to require a lifetime stay in the hospital. Their father h...

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“Krasnosamarskoe, or How I Learned to Accept the Dark Truth of My Heritage” by Randomly Arbitrary

Submitted to Contest #70

I had a dog once. I had him when he was just a very small creature, not much different from myself at the time. ___ 16:00. It was nearing the end of a rendition of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade conducted by Valery Gergiev of the Vienna Philharmonic. I sat there, quietly absorbed in my own thoughts amongst the other researchers in the cargo bay benches. After flying for about six or seven hours from Pulkovo Airport in Saint Petersburg, the Mi-26’s rotor blades hovered above a convenient spot just a few meters away f...

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“Vitale's Final Cadence” by Ryan Lieb

Submitted to Contest #70

Murray stared at the piece of sheet music like a confused puppy. It was an absolute mess - a series of symbols populating the sets of horizontal lines that looked more like a child’s scribbles than a melody. Of course, to the trained eye, every symbol had a valid meaning, but it was far more dense than any piece Murray had ever seen, and appeared to have been written in a frenzy, completely lacking the composer’s usual elegance. The piece appeared to be atonal - the key signature contained no sharps or flats, which meant that nearly every ba...

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“The Deceivers Among Us” by Zahra Daya

Submitted to Contest #70

“Blue did it.” Sweat glistens on my forehead, threatening to spill down. The slight tremble in my hands is no aid to me. I know that I should speak now to tell them. Tell them that I didn’t do it. The fact remains that the bloody knife lays at my feet next to the body. Pink’s body. The blood glistens eerily back at me as it drips off the blade and stains the floor. If only I knew. All I remember is a blinding flash of white - but white had been hurled out already. My eyes dart around the circle of crewmates, endeavorin...

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“The Mockingbird Bites the Dust” by Kate M

Submitted to Contest #70

As of late, I have been pondering the difference between “accident” and “mistake.” Accidents are not purposeful errors. Mistakes, as it would seem, can be the same way. But I’ve been thinking, and a mistake can also be a choice someone makes, and then regrets later on. I’ve made a mistake. A big one. It doesn’t matter that I have children; because I do. It doesn’t matter that I have grandchildren; because I ...

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“Sorely Mistaken” by Joe Sauers

Submitted to Contest #70

Dr Fletcher sheltered under a desk in a colleague’s office until long after the sounds of smashing glass, splintering wood and snapping metal stopped. He’d been hiding there for nearly three hours, fearing for his life. The demonstration that began outside the clinic some six hours previously had started peacefully enough; most of the sign holders sat in folding chairs they’d thoughtfully brought along, drinking tea and coffee and striking up the occasional chorus among the more vocal members of the crowd. The songs they sung were rather inv...

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“When is a You, a You?” by Len Mooring

Submitted to Contest #70

At one time if it should ever have fallen upon my shoulders to be put to the wheel, I would have hoped they are not sagging in lassitude as they were at that present time signifying defeat. The circumstances for their sorry state were, I guess, too ordinary in a lot of cases but in my own, unusual. I had endeavoured to live an exemplary life, one of restrained boredom as commented by one of my acquaintances. But in this instance, I had failed miserably, but lifted the spirits of the aforementioned individual. I had been accused of a lar...

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“Kissing A Lie” by Kemani Grey

Submitted to Contest #70

I knew exactly how things were going to end; I knew the trap I was setting for myself. I should have backed out when I had my suspicions, but I didn’t. I let it play on like a long-lasting movie. A videotape, forever to keep rolling. Now I stared at a blank screen, the suspense and thrill of the story gone. The truth’s exposed. I could feel the room turning and my sanity seeping from me. I was on dangerous grounds. I was at the gates of hell. Or at least I felt like I was. I hadn’t done a bad thing, so said the crooked, misshapen society...

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“Clover Catastrophe” by Sam S.

Submitted to Contest #70

“Why don’t you children have a bit of manners . . . respect is something you earn by giving . . . next time you repeat this . . . I am a teacher . . . taking you to the principal’s office . . . mannerless youth—”Alexandra’s best friends sat around her, unaffectedly processing each and every single word that exploded from the Algebra teacher’s mouth like lava from a volcano.She signaled to Emma who was sitting right beside her, staring at the teacher with utmost concentration.The drama had commenced.“Emma!”“Yeah. Wassup!?” she mouthed the wor...

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“An Artificial Dilemma” by Philip Clayberg

Submitted to Contest #70

Every day I stand for hours in the department store window, frozen like a statue. Pedestrians walk along the sidewalk, unaware that my mask-like face is watching them. To them, I am just a mannequin. Some people stop to look, probably wondering what they might look like in the clothes that I wear. Other people walk past, talking with their companion or companions, oblivious to my existence.After the store closes for the night, the curtains are drawn and we are removed from the store windows. Our clothes removed and replaced with a new outfit...

137 comments 137

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“This Oak, These Skulls” by Amelia Bowen

Submitted to Contest #70

I thought, when I first saw him, that he must be a statue. His skin was the kind of gray you might see Michelangelo bent over- tooth chisel in his concentrated hand. His eyes, his hair, though -they gave him away. Both were dark, almost black. He sat on a bench by the side of the road I strode to school each day. I didn’t know how I could have missed him before; I reasoned that must have been his first day.There was a book in his hands. He was bent over it like it was the source of all truth, the fountain of youth, life blood- I suppose it m...

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$50

Prize money

731

Contest entries

0

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Dec 04, 2020 EST

Won by Irene Rebello 🏆

Title: What you made me.

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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