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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 8 of 10

SNOW SYNDROME

Submitted to Contest #316

Erik looked at his tutor expectantly. Professor Henry Pedersen, sixty three years of age, the man he revered for having honed him into the excellent lawyer that he now promised to be, seemed lost in thought, considering how best to proceed. Over the last few years, here in the professor’s rooms within the cloistered Minnesotan University of Law, his teacher had taught him the finer points of litigation, making the lessons both fascinating and educational, digging up bygone cases, enabling the study of court strategies of attorneys, long sinc...

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Que sera, sera

Submitted to Contest #316

Amani Jacobs tilted her head, peering at the delicate script inked on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, what does that tattoo mean? ‘Que sera, sera’?” The dark red letters curved in elegant loops, ending in a gold-trimmed rose that looked real enough to touch. Gianna Jacobs smiled, a flicker of memory in her eyes. “It means whatever will be, will be. An old friend taught me that.” “Friend, huh? Do I know this friend?” Gianna chuckled, but said nothing. “Moooom,” Amani whined, nudging her gently. “I’m twenty-two and have never even seen you go on ...

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RECREATION IN THE EARLY 1970's

Submitted to Contest #316

As a college student without a lot of money to spend, hiking with friends is a good option. Therefore on Memorial Day weekend, which coincided with his birthday, FRED decided to celebrate by going for a hike near Sequoia National Park. A bit of a drive from Los Angeles, but Fred had it all planned out.We parked at the beginning of the trail and hiked for a hour to get to the Forest Ranger , to ask permission to camp for two days. He granted permission but warned of a mamma bar with cub who was fond of ransacking backpacks for food. He gave a...

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Murphy's Rebellion; Hero of a Forgotten Past

Submitted to Contest #316

(Content Warning: Contains some adult language) The city slept. All but one man were curled in their beds, dreaming of freedom, liberty, and better times. All but one man had accepted their comfortable, albeit boring, fate—handouts of food from the nutrition center, clothing from the uniform shop. All but one man had given up on living for mere existence and production. In the wee hours of the night, that one man walked toward the city center with purpose. John Murphy didn’t know what awaited him, but he knew where he was going, and he knew...

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Pearl Collar

Submitted to Contest #316

Bloody pearl necklace adorning her neck and a Colt M1911 clutching in her right hand. The speakeasy was bolstered with crowded voices and cigar smoke. The floor was littered with sequins and feathers, mostly white and wine red. A singular woman, Rhonda Wagnar, took heavy steps towards the center table. Her heart pounded against her ribs, vibrating in her sternum.Gripping a cigarette holder, she swiftly grabbed a cigarillo and a couple packs of cigarettes from the bar, mumbling something about keeping her tab open. Cladded in a sparkling blac...

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Daniel: A Different Kind of Hero

Submitted to Contest #316

Daniel: A Different Kind of HeroGary Grissom Daniel looked as if he had stepped off the screen of a horror film. He was tall and muscular but had a large head with dark brooding eyes and a four-inch scar on the right side of his face. His lower lip was usually pressed down by his tongue which protruded slightly. Daniel always sat in the back of his classes at Dana Jr. High and ignored the lessons the teachers were giving. Everyone feared him. That is, everyone except coach Brock who saw athletic potential in Daniel. “Stick your tongue back i...

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Close

Submitted to Contest #316

My night with the rapper fucked me twice, give or take if you’re counting. *** “I know you,” he smirked at me, holding champagne in one hand, his cummerbund pressed against by his other. He was also staring up at the available portrait, an image of a face seemingly photographed, but when you looked closer, approaching the canvas, it became something else entirely. Nothing but a mosaic of colorful swirls and squares, textured tiles transforming the image. It was just us huddled closely near the artwork, everyone else fading in our rear, takin...

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The Prodigal Son of McAuley Street

Submitted to Contest #316

I almost chickened out when I got to the corner. But Jen never would have forgiven me. At that moment I didn’t care much if Ma and Rick forgave me or not. They were looking plenty happy without me, mingling with some friends I didn’t recognize in the driveway, right on the three-point line Eric and I always imagined for our long-ago basketball games. No sign of their being any worse off for their loss. But Jen would’ve killed me if I got that far and then turned back, and sooner or later I’d have hated myself too. Especially with what she wa...

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Miracle Dawn

Submitted to Contest #315

“Pot or Keurig?” Patricia mused to herself. If she had to stay awake all night she would most certainly consume an entire pot of coffee, and then some. It made more sense to have the whole pot ready for the night. But there was something about having each cup fresh as you needed it that appealed to her. She popped the capsule in the coffee maker and started it up. As the coffee maker started to bubble and steam, the gargling noise it made reminded her of how Freddy used to sound every morning. Even from a young age Patricia had always been a...

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Driving Lessons

Submitted to Contest #315

DRIVING LESSON Well, Abers Run starts way down by the bottoms, comes up past our house and its still dirt then turns to gravel and you hear the stones bouncing off the undercarriage of our truck. Then it turns onto the grade crossing, and there I am, stalled on the slope beside the railroad tracks afraid the a coal train might just be coming from the mines. I say, Grandaddy, what should I do? He just stares out the window calm as anything and tells me, You the last one that touched the wheel, Sweet Pea. So I put the clutch in, turn the...

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New Traditions - A Dia de los Muertos Story

Submitted to Contest #315

Carolina stood in the middle of her Florida apartment, surrounded by shopping bags from Michael's and Publix. She felt both nervous and excited, wondering if she was doing the right thing and if she would get it right. The late October Doral heat pressed against her windows as the sound of airplanes destined for Miami International airport breezed by. A YouTube tutorial on creating ofrendas played on her phone. The phone, propped on her dining room table by sugar skulls and stacks of old photos she had selected for the occasion. Growing up, ...

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The Robber

Submitted to Contest #315

NOISES DOWNSTAIRS. HELL. YES! I WAS PREPARING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS. Stay here with the baby, Sofia. I just need to open my weapons safe. There she is! HK416, with SureFire SOCOM2 suppressor, Eotech Exps3/G33 magnifier and Magpul D-60 mag. Of course, honey, I will be careful. I love you, honey! Oh, you mean careful with the walls? Sure, fine! The noises! Like as if an elephant was dancing conga in our living room! How many of them are there? Three, four? What if they are heavily armed? WHAT IF THEY ARE CARRYING KALASHNIKOVS AND FULL-BODY AS...

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An Unlikely Hero and an Inconvenient Truth

Submitted to Contest #316

An Unlikely Hero and an Inconvenient Truth Sarah Connor grew up with an unfortunate name. Her father, Steve Connor, was a lifelong Terminator superfan. He had DVD (and his original VHS) copies of all the movies, the director’s commentary, an unopened box of Terminator 2 action figures “for investment purposes,” and a custom ringtone that blared “I’ll be back!” at inappropriate moments, such as funerals or staff meetings. Steve desperately wanted a son so he could name him after his cinematic idol: John Connor, future leader of the human resi...

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A House on Walnut

Submitted to Contest #316

Racial and Class conflict Philadelphia, 1919 — First Person The smell of polish clung to the air like it was part of the walls—sharp, sweet, and determined to linger. The movers’ boots pounded the wooden stairs, rattling the carved banister. Ryan stood at the doorway, his sleeves rolled up in that way that made him look like he’d built the house with his own hands, instead of signing papers in an office with a leather chair. “Walnut Street, Jenny,” he said, grinning as if he’d just been handed the key to the whole city. “A lawyer’s address....

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Birthday Wishes

Submitted to Contest #315

CW: Gun violence BIRTHDAY WISHES Theodore Henry Malone the third, nick-named Knuckles because of his history as a light heavyweight, adjusted his trouser cuffs and eased out of the Studebaker on Fourth and Main.“Wait here.”“Ok boss.”Pulling his coat close to ward off the cold of a wintry New York night, he pushed on the door. A bell tinkled softly, and a woman, mid-fifties, dowdy with hair up in a bun, came from out the back.“A dozen roses.”Knuckle’s voice was rough, guttural, a consequence of his failed career as a boxer. The woman could se...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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