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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write a story about a very skilled pickpocket. 

Posted in General on Mar 29, 2020

Submissions are closed!

Sorry, we are no longer accepting submissions. Make sure you don't miss our next contest by creating your free Reedsy Prompts account.

✍️ 71 stories

“Picked The Wrong Pocket” by Marcellus Smith

It used to be his profession until he spent some time in prison. That was years ago, now he had a good job, wife and two kids. Frankie Valoucci was a changed man, except he loved the skill he practiced for years, slipping a wallet out of a man’s pocket or woman’s purse. Some never noticed until they tried to retrieve it and found it missing. It had been years since he exercised his skills except to play with his kids putting things in their pockets or taking stuff out without their knowledge. His wife Doris frowned on even...

13 likes 8 comments 8
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“There One Moment… Gone the Next” by Sydney Mari

“Rita!” I scowl, grabbing my little sister’s arm which is elbow-deep in a fat lady’s purse.  The lady looks down at Rita with disgust, “Get your little rat’s hand out of my purse.” she growls, and swats at my sister’s curly-brunette hair.  “Yes, miss, sorry miss.” I apologize quickly, dragging Rita towards ...

9 likes 5 comments 5
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“The Cabbage Walked Among the Stars” by Zilla Babbitt

A young man, dressed in slim black, sat at the coffee shop on the corner of the street. The clouds cast a gray unhappy pallor over his face, and when the rain began pouring down the young man’s face was pulled into a frown.His coffee was just a cold brew, nothing unusual, nothing of note. His brown hair was combed messily, his watch face small and unremarkable. His shoes were from the downtown cheap shoe store, his clothing from the town markets, his wallet no fatter than the averag...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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“Strange Encounter” by Unknown User

A red haired woman, peeked out the window before she stepped out of the Italian Coffee & Pastries Carriage. She pushed her face against the window, leaving a smudge from pressing her oval-shaped face against it, then her breath fogged up the window. She stood watching as it began to sprinkle outside, gray clouds touching in closer. Then the sound of thunder screeched, similar to someone beating on a drum.Just as the red head escaped out of the Italian Coffee & Pastries Carriage, a tall man, with broad shoulders, and long fi...

5 likes 2 comments 2
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“Melody of the Hunt” by Maddie Logemann

Quiver and hunting bow were his most prized possessions, one slung over his shoulder, the other held tight with stained wood smooth under calloused fingertips. An arrow nocked in careful decision, he stalked silent through the lush forest growth. It was with a thrill in his blood, a trapped butterfly pulse beating beneath his skin, that he tracked the snapped ferns. The white catches of fur, the spare spottings of blood, they led him after the frenzied hare with an arrow sh...

4 likes 4 comments 4
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“Quick Hands” by Ariella Aquiday

"Not to brag," says Jack, "but between you and me, I'd make a better villain." "Yeah, right," Paisley groans. "You cry at everything." The ground feels thick under the teenagers' feet. The street is nearly empty of people. A red-head woman in heels the same color of her hair walks past them, her heels relieved to not strut into any potholes. Pale-faced lovers walk hand in hand, guiding each other through the darkness. Passerby ignore the teens, and teens ignore them. "So what?" Jack scoffs. He takes offense to Pai...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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“The Pick Pocket Who Sang.” by Rima El-boustani

“I pick-a-pocket, pick-a-pocket, that’s what I do! Try to get more than one pocket, one pocket’s a fluke. But ten or twenty a day, that’s the best way. It feeds my addiction; I eat like a king with all my winnings – some folks I picked were down right rich! I pick-a-pocket, pick-a-pocket, that’s all that I do!” Peter sings jovially as he saunters down a now empty street. It’s early morning, the Sun shines on happily – it doesn’t care who it’s shining for. Peter’s shoes cackle on the cobbled street stones., his knobbly knees jutti...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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“Gapper” by Jayden Mendez

I didn't want to steal. None of my gang did. There was only one- Rebrandt- who enjoyed it. And he is the worst thiever here. Believe me, our training at the Warehouse was not easy. That's why we are amazing at thievin'. I glance out at the people before me- sniveling, frightened boys desperate enough to be adopted into a gang rather than face the confines of a Boy's Home. Yes, when our leader, Jack Paulie, heard of our loneliness and came to recruit us, we were frightened. The prospect of working at a Warehouse with a bunch of strange orp...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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“Wyatt Wyndham” by Noah david Perry

Wyatt Wyndham is not a lad you’d be quick to bring home to ma’ and pa’, and he most certainly is not the type to bring you home to his, that is, if he had either a place or parents to bring you home to at all. His parents left, or rather, he left his parents, a few years ago now, and since then, he’s never looked back, at least not in that same figurative sense, for, as his current occupation demands, looking sideways, up, down, around, and especially back, is a necessity. But, more on that later, let us first, unlike Wyatt, look...

2 likes 0 comments 0
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“The Key to Reconciliation” by Kaitlyn Strong

Henry Maddox sauntered down the dusty streets of Sweetwater, his scuffed boots kicking up clouds of dust into the air. As he neared the end of the main street, he took a sharp turn and stepped up onto the board sidewalk that looked as if it had seen more than one brawl on its wood planks.He was aware of several gazes following him down the street, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood outside the dual-swing double doors that led into the Lone Coyote saloon. Gray eyes traveling across the street, he caught...

2 likes 1 comment 1
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“An Everyday Hero ” by Natalie marie Stefani rice

The train comes rumbling to an abrupt stop. My head jerks slightly forward. I open my eyes, realizing I have managed to nod off again on my morning commute to the city.Looking at me you couldn't tell. Talking to me it wouldn't have dawned on you. But try and spend more than a few hours of quality time with me and I will rock your world. (Sometimes literally.)The local newspapers have called me a Modern Day Robin Hood. But I'm much more humble than that and, honest...

2 likes 0 comments 0
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“Pickpocket” by Quinn Collins

A pickpocket stole my truths from my back pocket. Now, only lies slip through my teeth. I can say my name and personal facts, but I can’t talk about memories. They become twisted and wildly untrue. When I say these things, it doesn’t even feel like I’m lying. The strangest thing about this, everyone believes the lies. No questions asked. I could make up the most unbelievable, fictional story and...

2 likes 2 comments 2
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“IDK” by Eden Aiono

Happily skipping along, Daya twirled around as she jumped into the air, causing her to bump into a middle-aged man."I'm so sorry sir!" She exclaimed and kept walking. Smirking, the sly 14-year-old pulled the gold-plated watch out of her pocket. Scanning the lakeside, Daya saw a bunch of skaters, hanging around a park bench and giggled about the little thought she just had.Ducking into a public toilet, she emerged as a completely different person. Her brown wig was nowhere in sight and her long, luscious black hair swayed aro...

2 likes 1 comment 1
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“A Pocketeer's Memory” by Hadia Abbas

When I stand in the middle of a crowd, perhaps a busy street on a Monday, with hundreds of rushing locals hurrying for their jobs, from their jobs; students to their schools, from their schools; tourists roaming about with no sense of direction… I feel alive.The people around me do not notice. No, they don’t understand. They don’t feel the tingling sense of ‘being alive’ that floats in the air like dandelion fluff. The erratic emotions of errant humanity that I can taste on the tip of my tongue. The shining colors...

2 likes 0 comments 0
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“Song of Sparrows” by Megan Derouin

Song of Sparrows           I danced through the crowd, my hands deftly diving into pocket after pocket pulling forth wallets of all shapes and sizes. When the tourists went left towards the Empire State Building I continued straight. I plugged my earbuds into my ears and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Just another New Yorker walking down the street. No one saw me, they weren’t looking.The lock clicked as I closed the door behind m...

2 likes 3 comments 3
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Similar prompts

More fantastic prompts from Contest #18.

Write a story about a character who buys a secondhand coat and then discovers something in the pocket.

General – 106 stories

Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

General – 47 stories

Write a story about someone cleaning out their attic. They find an old piece of clothing, and inside of its pocket is an old keepsake.

General – 57 stories

"It was just here!" you shout, frantically searching your pockets for the missing thing.

General – 32 stories

Contest #18

Enter our weekly contest!

This week's theme: Pocketful of Sunshine

$50

Prize money

364

Submissions

Ended on 23:59 - Dec 06, 2019 EST

Won by Sam Lauren 🏆

Title: The Price of a Nice Guy

View details

Win $50 in our short story competition 🏆

We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $50!