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

150+ American Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Looking for great American short stories you can read for free? Whether they’re written by American authors, set in the USA, or just have that ever-elusive quality of Americana, this is the page you’re looking for.

American Short Stories – Page 7 of 10

The box

Submitted to Contest #311

It was suddenly ground hog day again. I awoke from a deep sleep, sweating profusely; the dream was fading back into my memory bank. I tried to chase it like catching a wave rolling softly out to sea. I couldn’t remember the dream, only how it made me feel. I was having doubts and misgivings again. This had been going on for the last few years; the dream brought everything back home, back to the closet, back to the box. It was time to open it. My body shuddered with the mere thought of it. What would I find? Could I actually do it this time? ...

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Pastorelli and Barrelli Step Out

Submitted to Contest #310

Trigger warning- Some Mild Language, Violence, and Suspense ahead! Pastorelli and Barrelli Step Out It was not Pastorelli who insisted they go to the retreat. It was Barrelli- the bitch. A beach retreat for book lovers of all kinds were welcomed for a small price. There, they would workshop their pieces, gain feedback, and they would take swim breaks after each reading. The only problem- Pastorelli did not want to go.---Her work was self-published, which was something she regretted. Her work was deeply personal, and she was drunk when she su...

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A Man of Culture

Submitted to Contest #310

This story contains themes of sexual violence and racism Thomas regarded himself as a man. The world regarded him as a man. He was a man. He was strong, but not too strong. He was handsome but with gentle eyes. He was driven and dominant, but never domineering. Thomas was a man. Why did he think about that so much now? He had always been a man. He had never struggled with his identity. But now, in his late 30s, it was on his mind more than ever.Thomas had been a content creator since the early days of YouTube. He had initially gained fame an...

6 likes 3 comments 3
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The Ladies Literary Society

Submitted to Contest #310

My first meeting with the Ladies Literary Society was at the home of the head of the group, Susan Brooks. We first met on the New Haven/Bridgeport line one day in spring when we were both headed to NYC for some shopping. As the train clacked and rattled along its tracks we sat in the first class dining car enjoying our afternoon tea and cake.After exchanging our names and hometowns the topics spread out to our interests and hobbies. I shared that I enjoyed writing poetry. Haiku poems , to be exact, as I explained that I had lived and studied...

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A Margo Peabody and Winston the Menace Goose Mystery

Submitted to Contest #310

Chapter One: A Mystery Most Middle-Aged Margo Peabody’s day began, as all great disasters do, with optimism.She flung open the creaky doors of The Whispering Tome, inhaled the scent of aged paper and Mr. Fitzgerald’s latest hairball, and declared, “Today’s the day, Fitz! No drama, no chaos, just books.”The cat, sprawled atop Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, blinked slowly—a gesture Margo chose to interpret as solidarity.The shop was its usual cacophony of charm and mild hazard. Sunlight strained through dust to illuminate the “Local Lore”...

19 likes 8 comments 8
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Seafaring in North Farrisland 1725 to Present

Submitted to Contest #310

Fuck this shit. Deflated, I stick the antique key into the lock of my formerly pristine glass door. I step inside and shake the morning fog off of me. I turn on the heat and fill up my trusty pail full of hot soapy water. Apparently, the local kids think it's funny to egg my business every Friday. And apparently, it's difficult for the local police to find out who keeps doing it in this town of 1500 people.I can feel the muffled giggles of the passing cars as I'm once again found on my hands and knees in 35 degree weather, scrubbing egg yolk...

4 likes 1 comment 1
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Dissolution

Submitted to Contest #309

The air was heavy and thick, like inhaling mud; lungs stopped expanding after half a breath. A sticky sweat was pasted onto her skin and seeped into her clothes, even her cotton panties could be wrung out. She stood on the threshold and watched the leaves on the trees dance about in the wind, but it wasn’t strong enough to push through the screen covering the aluminum frame of the storm door. Part of her, the nagging voice that wouldn’t give up, wanted to take iced tea to the porch, sit on the weathered steps, and enjoy the moment when the e...

14 likes 6 comments 6
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Cadeau Kincaid

Submitted to Contest #309

Well, I've grown up in the south, an hour outside of Macon in a place we all described as middle Georgia to anyone who asked but really it was nowhere. My dad, who also grew up in nowhere, and resented it, but wasn’t anybody smart enough or tactful enough to move out and go to college and live somewhere, he used to say to me that sometimes nowhere can be a real cool place. And I always thought that was really funny because he didn’t believe that at all I thought, and that movie, “Cool Hand Luke”, which was his favorite movie, he watched it o...

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Albert and Zelda

Submitted to Contest #309

Albert was a knife thrower. One of the last. He’d seen one once when he was a kid and knew immediately that that was what he wanted to be. A knife thrower. Now a knife thrower does one thing. He throws knives. Big knives, small knives, spinning knives, flat knives, butterfly knives. One potato, two potato it was all the same. Throwing knives at different targets, spinning, swinging, falling, jumping. He could throw at balloons or apples or put a small duckling in a box and pop the top with a perfectly placed blade. Wat...

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The Last Drink

Submitted to Contest #309

It was a Friday night when I went to my local bar for a few drinks, it was the perfect place for me to wind down from a long week of hard work. I sat there at my usual stool, sipping away at the best beer in the world, a good old Budweiser. The taste brought a sense of relaxation, and yet I still felt a deep sadness, one that drinking couldn’t solve alone. “You need another one after you're done?” The bartender asked as he tapped the counter in front of me. It was Casey. I knew Casey very well, he was my favorite bartender. What made him my ...

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Happy Birthday Uncle Willy

Submitted to Contest #309

Uncle Willy walked down the rows of large cooking pots and giant skillets, some of them over wood fires, and some over gas burners, all emitting mouth watering aromas. “Get your fingers back, old man” Uncle Willy grinned into the laughing face of a middle aged woman holding a steaming platter.“If you didn’t hide the forks . . .” The woman handed him a fork with a piece of fried catfish on it. The man on the platform raised one white gloved hand above his head, and tapped the mic with the other. The crowd slowly quieted. “Now I present ...

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Denial

Submitted to Contest #309

Her dreams were dreams until they weren't. Until she pushed too hard to make them real. Endless nights, panting breaths, cold sweats, shivers down her spine, shudders in her breath, pulled back gasps, choked coughs. She needed him. Even if he didn't exist outside of her mind. Even if his laughter could only be heard in her dreams and even though his touch was invisible, it made hell seem cold. She couldn't let go of the thought of him and she basked in the fact that only she could feel him, only she knew him. Only she knew the colour of hi...

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ROCKET MAN GUS

Submitted to Contest #309

ROCKET MAN GUS Well, I can only tell you what I heard from Gus, himself; from the horse’s mouth so to speak. He always claimed that it were Superman that started him on his inevitable path; the DC comic book hero that captured the attention o’ the entire world. But, unlike most ever’body else, Gus weren’t interested in the super powers that enabled the Man of Steel, in the vernacular of the time, to be faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound’. No sir, rather, Gus was consumed...

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Our Place

Submitted to Contest #309

Summer is dragging on. It’s only been about a month, but I am already bored out of my god-damned mind. I guess I could spew out some killer analogy (“summer is dragging on like blah blah blah”), but the boredom has killed far too many of my brain cells. Or maybe it’s just the sweltering summer heat. Who has the energy for analogies, really? My body is about 99% sweat right now.Parker Park (seriously, who comes up with these names?) is pretty dead today. What day is it again? I think it’s Tuesday. No phone to check the date. The splash pad’s ...

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Free Will

Submitted to Contest #309

The air was as crisp as a dragon fly’s wings and Lancington Lake dutifully reflected all the surrounding lights in the spring air. It gave a yawn of forgiveness for the encroaching darkness, swallowing its memories of so many people who now found it warm enough during the day to swim in its fold. Too cold to swim in now, there were people in all manner of laissez-faire outfittings sitting idly and wistfully at its edges.Sanjo and Conner sat together by the lake under a cottonwood tree on a Mexican falsa blanket that was just large enough for...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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