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Looking for a steady supply of african american short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.

150+ African american Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Whether you want to read about African American author's hopes and resilience or their unique struggles, you'll find what you're looking for here.

African american Short Stories – Page 9 of 10

Fireflies

Submitted to Contest #267

[Contains themes relating to the treatment of slaves in Southern US, around 1830, but no actual violence.] You are not supposed to listen at doors. If I am caught, he'd have the skin off my back. But how can I resist?  Late September, Georgia.  Outside, the Estate was waking up from the hottest, most humid months of the year. What appeared to be vast flocks of fluffy white birds overwhelmed the cotton plantations. Field Slaves who'd been out with their picking bags since dawn toiled in the sun while the Overseers on their ho...

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Twin flame

Submitted to Contest #267

Carla was super positive about herself, and super confident about the way she intended to meet her future goals. She was so grateful for the breakthrough she had received from god; the computer software job that she had worked so hard for had finally accepted her as an intern, which meant working her butt off each day to pass the first probationary period, Carla muttered to her nervous self.The business was mainly large and small offices, located on the uptown scale of the city, where the high Rollers happened to live and breathe, so what pr...

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Assigned Angels

Submitted to Contest #267

It's funny how God puts stumbling blocks in your way so you can learn to overcome obstacles and to trust him. Starr and Dawn me under the circumstance of a car accident caused by a demon in a red mustang. These two ladies didn't know each other but was destined to meet by God's grace. Here's what happened and how they overcame the obstacles of their injuries and how God appointed his angels to guard them from the enemy. News bulletin: "There's been a car accident on I-75 heading towards Hamilton Blvd., looks like two cars collided...

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Number Five

Submitted to Contest #266

I’ve been 40 years old for ten years. At least that much was established and remained early on. Life experience is one thing, but this is beyond ridiculous, to be overly qualified with all possibilities in the fray for the future…I really wish this man would finally make up his mind. And it doesn’t help that Deleerius Shaw is a procrastinator, as this only exacerbates his crippling, fearful indecisiveness, undergirded further by a pestering low esteem in his already traditionally published, award-winning prowess. Four acclaimed novels in, an...

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Assigned Seats

Submitted to Contest #265

Friday May 18th, 2012 “All aboard for the last bullet train to all connecting departures from the International Station in Austin, Texas. Please have your tickets and boarding passes ready for scanning,” said the conductor over the intercom. “Sir, please can you help me?” Jacob called out frantically, running towards the conductor. “I think I dropped my ticket and boarding pass when I left platform fifty-two about ten minutes ago. Here’s my receipt, sir.” Jacob ponders over his thoughts as the conductor verifies the receipt. “I really need t...

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Spike And His Flowers

Submitted to Contest #265

Dad And His Flowers  There is nothing quite as powerful as the hand of a father’s grip. I would know, for Spike had the grip of a bear. A grip that was forged through pain and neglect as well as love and discipline. Those were the same hands that pushed me forward once I met him while times were down. I can still remember how high he raised me from the kissing waters of the pool when I was just six years small, and the smile that conquered his face that day. A face once made of stone. We both share that same face - one of solace and re...

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The Pearly Gates

Submitted to Contest #265

“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed.” — 2 Peter 3:10-13I’m shackled up to my feet with a chain ‘round my stomach, rid’in a bus with a band of thieves and murderers to God knows where. The summer sun is dancin’ high above Montgomery as sweet home, Alabama passes us by. It’s my birthday—feels like my last day on Earth.Sitting chained up next to me are cold-blooded...

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The House of Blues: A Tale of the Arts Department

Submitted to Contest #265

June 17, 2015Thea noted it straight away, even as Earl continued to greedily explore the depths of his second bowl of she-crab soup.Earl Mason was a down-home Central Illinois downstater whose marine appetite generally had ended at Long John Silver’s. But roughly 45 years after falling hard for the University Arts Department’s Chicago firebrand, the college bean-counter plummeted headlong into Lowcountry cuisine. The Charleston trolley guide had insisted on what had persisted as a working neighborhood soul kitchen even after Southern Living ...

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Saut d’Eau Waterfall

Submitted to Contest #265

I had been told that Saut D’Eau is the Haitian celebration of the voudoun loas, or spirits, D’Ambala and Simbi, that takes place in a mountain oasis of a wonderful waterfall. It was a story that I could not miss. I told Davou, my photographer, about Saut d’Eau like I knew all about it. He got excited and we went, borrowing a Toyota Land Cruiser from a friend’s rental car business. He warned that he road was windy and that the falls were up, way up on a mountain. He was right. It was a lousy road and after numerous mechanical stalls because o...

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Don’t Hold This Speech At My funeral

Submitted to Contest #264

Don’t Hold This Speech At My funeral Dear those I left behind…The world caved in and I let it. None of you were enough. None of you showed me the way out of the darkness. I swallowed every sunset and muted the chirping of the birds. Under my feet, the green grass withered. Under my touch, the flower petals browned.I was not born like this. You made me this way. The world taunted and tormented my heart until it gave in. Born compassionate, I was. Turned bitter, I am. Bitter enough to mark down the names of those who hurt me. Bitter enoug...

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Toasted

Submitted to Contest #264

Hi everyone, I’m Donna. When Lori, I call her Lori, though once we graduated from Hillsburg High, she started calling herself “Lauren,” asked me to be her maid-of-honor, I wasn’t like most girls: quizzing her about colors and dresses, designers, and cuts. I wondered how I was going to capture our unforgettable friendship since 3rd grade in a speech. I didn’t want to bore a room full of people or embarrass anybody. So I made a deal with myself which I’m gonna let you in on. I promise not to do the first if you let me off the hook if I acciden...

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The Heir

Submitted to Contest #263

“So, what do you do for fun?” “Hm?” I raise an eyebrow. “Oh.” I think about it for a moment. What do I do for fun? I know what I used to do. The memory of it flashes behind my eyes as quick as lightning—me, my sisters, and our father standing on a rooftop together as the sun sets over the city’s horizon. Dad looked down at me smiling, the sun illuminating his dark brown skin. My sisters and I were happy to be with him, sharing such a picturesque moment. Then came the screams. The city below was engulfed in fire, and so were most of the peo...

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Bolts, Rhum and the Sea

Submitted to Contest #263

The first strike was off to port, disappearing before the corner of my eye could catch it, but its presence remained with a vague twisting thunder. The sky was hidden by a dense brooding continuing line of cloud. The horizon hid somewhere between a steel grey sea and a light grey setting of the sun somewhere West of South. Water lapped lazily alongside the hull. It passed slowly in the light airs. The sails were moist as if it were morning in the place of evening.  Another crack echoed to starboard but turning I only saw monotony all ar...

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A Sixties Tale

Submitted to Contest #262

PROLOGUE The events I’m about to describe took place during 1967 and 1968. No one involved besides me knows the whole truth about what happened, and I want to keep it that way for reasons that will become obvious. Some of the names and places used in this story are fictitious. The events are real. Why am I telling this tale to you, a stranger? Because the prospect of taking this story untold to my grave is unbearable. Some of you may understand that what I did, I did out of love. Others may feel I should rot in hell for my actions. Each read...

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Train of Events

Submitted to Contest #262

The heat in New York City was a beast that summer. The air, thick and heavy, clung to the city like a weighted blanket in winter; turning the concrete jungle into an urban oven. This must have been the day that Mother Nature’s menopause began because the thermometer flirted with triple digits, the kind of day that makes asphalt ripple and tempers flare from aggravation. Accara, a sixteen-year-old girl with smooth brown skin, and flaming red, waist-length braids adorned with colorful beads and cowries, boarded the four train. She was headed h...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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