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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#9: Little Women

On September 30th, 1868, the first volume of Little Women by Louisa May Alcott was published. This December, 151 years later, the eighth(!) film adaptation of Little Women will be released in theatres. Suffice it to say, this book has stood the test of time and remains a favorite amongst readers.

In honor of Alcott's novel, this week's writing prompts are all themes and elements pulled from her seminal family drama. And don't worry if you haven't read the book or aren't too familiar with the March family — these themes are all universal!

This week's prompts

Write a story in which societal rituals and expectations play a key role.

Fiction – 21 stories

Write a story that focuses on the relationship between siblings.

Middle School – 60 stories

Write a story about someone whose lifestyle has changed and is learning to adjust to new circumstances.

High School – 36 stories

Write a story that uses flowers as a symbol.

Spring – 32 stories

Write a story about unrequited love.

Romance – 61 stories

Stories

“Winterborn” by Annie James

The wind whistled through the many cracks in the walls of the flimsy cabin, bringing a chill that the fire in the hearth could not keep out. Grandfather knelt down and pulled a scrapbook from the box he kept under his cot. He sat on the cot with his back to the wall and held the scrapbook in his withered blue veined hands. The cabin door opened, flooding the single room with frigid air. His grandson Alaric walked in with a load of freshly chopped wood in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "Put those down and drag the chair over...

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“Iris” by Laurentz Baker

IrisArriving at the townhome of Frank and Alaina Macey in his Sunday best, a blue three-piece Alfani suit, with black Alfani shoes, dark blue shirt and a white tie, Orion would miss half of Sunday service for the third week in September. Orion states. “So, once again, a blue iris is left at the scene. Have you found the white iris yet.”

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“Mitchell Prine” by Waverley Stark

It was past midnight, yet the hearth burned. The flames flickered against the white ash, spots of orange light bouncing all over the room. Occasionally, it reflected off the glossy frames of photos resting on the mantle; a large man shaking hands with another dressed finely in a pewter-gray suit. The same large man, older, laughing in a room full of royals and politicians; and most recently, the man smiling with his arms around the grinning faces of his grandchildren. The w...

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“Thank You For Your Service” by Jasmine Shouse

“Thank you for your service.” A woman’s hand reached out to me as she smiled with a look that did not seem to mirror the gratitude in her words. It took everything in me not to shudder. Instead, I gave her a terse nod and gripped her hand. “Thank you for your support.” My mouth spoke the words automatically, but I tried to convey some warmth in them. It’s the expected response, after all,...

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“Rose” by M Storey

The sun sank behind darkening mountains, finally allowing the hot earth to rest from another day of having all color baked to brown in the harsh desert. Around the shadowed peaks a white canvas was stretched where purples and pinks and oranges birthed a living painting in the clouds. For just a moment the sky gifts the desert beige with beauty impossible to capture and impossible to keep beyond the few moments where sun and cloud and chance align and hypnotize whatever eyes happen upon it until darkness encroaches and all that remains i...

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“Cross the river” by Viktor Rain

"Why can't I cross this river?" he mumbled, staring at the ceiling fan. Its blades spun monotonously, creaking every two seconds. He should have fixed it the day before, or probably even earlier, but getting out of bed seemed too hard of a task. 'Similarities,' his mind whispered. 'There are certain similarities, don't you think? She's known me ever since I was born and keep...

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“Schrödinger’s Cyclist” by Marte Van Der Linden

A screech of tyres. A sickening crunch. A scream. My own, I think.I consider myself to be a calm sort of person who quickly adapts to new circumstances. So when I was catapulted off my bike by a car that came whizzing around the corner, it only took a couple of deep breaths for the world to stop spinning and the adrenaline to leach out of my system. I was still rather shaky as I got to my feet, but I felt that was justified in the circumstances, given the sizable dent in the bonnet of the car. I quickly patted myself down and reali...

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“A Garden of Roses ” by Gayatri Varma

When they met for the first time, he gave her a red rose. She would tell that story over and over until all fell asleep. That story for her was a way of remembering him. A week earlier, her vision started to blur, people would fade away into blankness and all she could hear were voices, some loud, some soft, some angry and some sad. She always sat on rocking armchair, feeling the wind on her face and that made her smile. He was in his late twenties, pale skin, grey eyes, wi...

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“Quid Pro Quo ” by Ryan Lieb

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” James had never been good at thinking on his feet, and he was completely unprepared for the question. He had been focusing most of his attention on trying not to stare at Brie’s ass as she attempted to balance on the wooden barrier lining the sidewalk, while simultaneously asking himself questions like

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“Bros” by John K Adams

Mike awoke to the sound of the doorbell. He looked at the clock and tried to make sense of things. “What the… My God! It’s two-thirty.”Then the knocking began. He went to investigate, hoping Sarah, his wife, wasn’t disturbed.The banging was insistent. Mike peered out and saw his brother Griff standing under the porch light. “Hey Bro! Let me in! I’m cold.”Mike opened the door. “What do you want, Griff? Come back tomorrow. Everyone’s asleep.”“C’mon Mike. I’m freezing. I need a place to crash.”

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“Time of Plenty” by Jessica C

A timid morning sun shows its first signs of arrival now, highlighting the blank sky with traces of gold. The stars have nearly disappeared, ready to retire, another night’s work nearly complete. This is the place where the evening meets the daylight, conversing with one another without any expectation. Soon it will be full dawn, but for now the world sleeps soundly beneath a blanket that the two skies have woven together. There is a house discreetly nestled between earth and sky. Slightly overgrown and shabby,...

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“Bum Note” by Matt Strempel

Coffee cup in hand, James MacFarlane took his regular seat as the morning played out before him. His bench in the north-western corner of Hyde Park afforded him a princely view of the fountain glistening in the morning sun. Surrounded by the giant guardians of the parklands, the ancient fig trees, he observed the morning rituals of those still chained to the hamster wheel from which he had long...

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“Worse Things in Life” by Deborah Mercer

WORSE THINGS IN LIFELike a great many people, Hester Levine thought she had modest means and could cope with that perfectly well and without any trauma, until she really did have modest means and discovered she wasn’t coping well at all, and if trauma were perhaps a tad melodramatic,, it was no walk in the park. What she’d thought of as modest means meant the second holiday of the year being a cottage in the Lake District rather than going abroad, and the meal out being at Piz...

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“PAIN less” by AL Paradiso

My sister, Pam, had been severely depressed for too many years. When she lost her first and only child, and her ability to have more children, PPD (Post Partum Depression) imprisoned her in bed for months. Siblings, parents and friends rallied to support, feed and clean her. Despite feeling her deep depression saturate our souls, we struggled to avoid echoing it back to her. We all felt a moral obligation to keep a stiff upper lip and ween her back into the world of survivors. Her proud, staunch refusal to get professional help was a res...

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“Poppy Fatigue” by Deborah Mercer

POPPY FATIGUE It was the kind of thing you just didn’t admit, even to yourself, but Jacky was suffering from Poppy Fatigue. She couldn’t even claim to have invented the expression, though she didn’t know who had. She always liked to think that she honoured the fallen, and to her dying day when she was in her nineties, her grandmother had spoken wistfully of her brother John who had been gassed in the trenches. He had survived, but had nightmares, and it ...

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Ended on 23:59 - Oct 04, 2019 EST

Won by Sofia Lago 🏆

Title: What Dead Songbirds Sing

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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