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Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2025
Submitted to Contest #310
Ever since his first book's modest success a year ago—though it already felt immensely remote—Marcus had been chasing another win, if not something bigger. He was currently sitting across his agent, Melanie, who was unconsciously indulging in her most noticeable personal tic—placing the tips of all her fingers together and idly contorting them in every possible shape—as she contemplated her thoughts on his latest draft. Marcus found the habit irritating, verging on loathsome—not so much for what it was, but because it was a tell that she hat...
Submitted to Contest #306
The Human Fold invited readers to share how technology has shaped their experiences of love and romantic connection. The only request was to submit unedited journal entries, raw and exactly as written, to preserve the emotion as it was felt. Thousands responded—some said their entries would make you laugh out loud; others shared theirs as a final act of letting go. Each chosen entry captures a cultural moment, revealing how we loved and adapted, coped and connected in an increasingly digital world.Names have been changed to protect real iden...
Winner of Contest #305 🏆
I stared at the crowd and told the biggest lie of my life. “James Waters was the best man I ever knew.” I didn’t know the guy. An hour ago, I didn’t even know his name. If his goofy face hadn’t been framed next to his casket, I wouldn’t even know what he looked like. I didn’t know he even existed. Well, he didn’t anymore, so that was a moot point. It was still uncertain if this was my biggest lie—it depended on whether or not it would fall apart. But it was certainly about to get bigger because people in the room were still waiting for me to...
Submitted to Contest #303
The broken floorboards creak under his feet as Victor eases the door open and enters the room. He’s faintly aware that the house is crumbling, but he doesn’t care enough, or has the time, to fix it. His eyes immediately find Marie, and there she is, lying in bed, looking like a withered plant in winter—embodying the smell of sickness swirling in the confines—despite the sunlight streaming through the fluttering curtains.“Marie”, Victor calls out, but she doesn’t open her eyes. Her lips keep moving silently, like she’s praying to the gods—mor...
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