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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

150+ Bedtime Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Everybody loves a story before bed, and our collection of bedtime short stories has got you covered.

Bedtime Short Stories – Page 3 of 10

Stoker

Submitted to Contest #318

FROM THE SIDELINES I don’t belong here. Sometimes I feel I’m the “EYE” that’s watching and at times I can’t tell the difference. Nothing makes sense anymore. Not the memories, even the few I remember. Hidden in the trunk of my darkest memories lies dormant the real me. The one I don’t recognize. The one that died again on that one of many traumatizing nights. My memories are drenched with darkness and black outs that drown out the lived moments of my life. Moments I hope to one day remember.It’s the early 80's, the setting is dark, I can’t r...

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Where Genie wont be long.

Submitted to Contest #318

Where Genie wont belong.I Don’t belong here I don’t belong here I don’t .Genie was still muttering as she awoke in her same oversized bed fitted with the softest silk sheets and satin pillowcases…overhead was the same tapestry and the Persian palace mural on the wall she remembered drawing…yesterday or was it last week? Lately, well since she could remember everything was a blur.All she had was a velvet file book to know who she was.On the front was gold engraving entitled the stories I gave. Full of pictures of what looked like her drawings...

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The Interloper

Submitted to Contest #317

Moonlight on the wet cobblestones glistened like silver fishes skimming along the surface of an onyx river. The tall brick walls like crusty black sentinels, that enchanting cool blueish light shone in the uppermost windows enhancing the stony giant guardians with eyes like the eyes of God. Halfway down this alley sat three dumpsters like sleeping hulking beasts…the one in the middle seems to be waking up as the lid slowly lifts---just an inch, then two. A small grey arm reaches out, at the end is a little hand that pats around the edge of t...

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Just Three Minutes

Submitted to Contest #317

He did it. He looked at the limp rat body and then back at the screens on the cluttered desk, then back at the chamber where the rat lay. I wasn’t dead, He wasn’t even sure if it qualified as sleeping. Ethan would explain it as the conscious mind leaving the body and relinquishing control of the autonomic system, which then maintains all necessary bodily functions. At the same time, the conscious mind shifts to another time. The numbers over the chamber door counted down from three minutes. Ethan watched with anticipation, reaching for his ...

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The girl in the tavern

Submitted to Contest #318

The Girl in the Cavern She was no one. At least, that’s how the story always went. Her name was buried under dust and echoes in the cavern halls. She carried water in chipped buckets, swept coal dust from the stone floors, and stacked crates for men who never looked her in the eye. When travelers passed through on their way to some shining quest — knights in armor, sorcerers with staffs, even wide-eyed farm boys destined for glory — they never saw her. She was the background blur, the faceless figure scurrying out of frame so the “real” hero...

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The Duckmen Five

Submitted to Contest #317

Tonight, I am going to share with you the tale of five brave ducks. These were not your typical ducks, but ducks of grave importance - responsible for the very survival of Earth itself. This is not only a tale of bravery, but one of uncertainty and loss. I tell it with a heavy heart, one of admiration and sorrow. But had it not been for this team of intergalactic space-ducks, you, me, our families and friends, would have ceased to exist. My name is Hans Frederick Ducksworth, and I was Second in Command of what would later be known as The Duc...

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A Kiss Across the Years

Submitted to Contest #317

A Kiss Across the YearsAshok was a little surprised when the phone rang late one night. The house was steeped in the kind of silence that comes only after midnight—when even the ticking clock sounded louder, when shadows stretched lazily across the walls. The caller ID displayed no name—only a string of digits with an unfamiliar ISD code. His eyelids still heavy with sleep, he hesitated a moment before answering.“Am I speaking to Ashok Pradhan?” a woman’s voice asked. Her tone was soft, calm, and oddly familiar, though he couldn’t place it.“...

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“The Immortal at My Door”

Submitted to Contest #317

Journal Entry – October 12th, 2023 I am an old woman now. My hands shake as I write this, though I tell myself it is the chill of autumn and not the chill of memory. I swore I would never record what happened that night, but time has a way of gnawing at silence. My children are grown, my grandchildren scattered, and the story—our story—sits inside me like a stone. Tonight, in the diner on Fifth Street, I saw him again. And that stone cracked. He sat in the far corner, exactly as I remembered him, as though forty years had been nothing more t...

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A Monster Outside

Submitted to Contest #316

It should have been a terrifying experience, really. The sound of a monster outside of her bedroom in the dead of the night. But Catherine, laying in her tiny, pink and white bed, wasn’t terrified. In fact, she wasn’t afraid at all. Not even as she heard the thuds of unfamiliar footsteps on the front porch, right outside her window. For she was sure she wouldn’t be kidnapped. Sure, there was her window, which was already open by three or four inches. But it was impossible to move it up past that far (she had tried before). And then, of cour...

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Not Quite Full

Submitted to Contest #315

James walked the shoreline slowly. To his left was a hotel, dark and silent, and on his right was Frenchman Bay, broken up by the porcupine islands. Looking up, the moon was large, but not quite full. A small sliver was missing just at the left edge. A waxing gibbous, maybe a day or two from being a true full moon. Looking at it irked James a bit, but the light it cast on to the ocean took away the potency of his anger. There were no waves, but the sway of the sea created a spectacle of flashing lights. It was like a million small jewels shi...

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Changing Time in 2500

Submitted to Contest #315

Dr. Alex Fox was, in a word, a mess. It was unbelievably difficult to find anything remotely good to say about him from his friends and family. Therefore, I feel morally compelled to limit my description of him to as little as possible. In short, he was an egotistical academic from the University of Newcastle who mistakenly thought the entire universe revolved around him. He was short, bony, and had distinctively long ears as well as emerald green eyes. His physical aspect was objectively revolting and did not win him many close relationship...

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Early Morning Thoughts

Submitted to Contest #315

At midnight, the new puzzles show up online. I do the Microsoft games, the New York Times puzzles and the new jigsaws. I know, I have 24 hours to do them all, so there is no reason to stay up and do them as soon as they show up. I don’t have OCD, but sometimes I behave as if I do. I justify the puzzles as keeping my mind alert and well-exercised and also giving me a checkpoint to see how rapidly my brain is deteriorating. Anyway, that means it’s about 2:00 a.m. when I finally go to bed, and of course by then I’m wired so I read to calm down ...

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It Was Four O'Clock in The Morning Once Again.

Submitted to Contest #315

It was four o’clock in the morning once again. And once more Stella was wide awake and unable to go back to sleep in her bed. So now she was sitting in a chair in the backyard with a bench in front of her, a cup of coffee upon it. She was staring into the distance way ahead of her. This had been going on for several weeks now. Her father and grandfather had both worked as engineers driving the early morning trains to the station nearby. When she was just a girl, she would get up very early to wave to each one of them when she knew they w...

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Three Generations

Submitted to Contest #315

CW: Child abuse My stepson Damon who is 3 years old is my twin flame. When he talks, it feels like my tiny self talking. I learnt a lot from my interaction with him. I healed from my childhood trauma within a year of meeting him. I understood how horrible both my parents were after analyzing his mom. In the next few paragraphs, I will talk about Damon, his Dad and his Granddad.Damon:Damon’s mom is a very selfish person. She cares more about her life than Damon’s life. When she was breastfeeding Damon, she was also drinking alcohol. She has t...

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Summer Nights

Submitted to Contest #314

I can’t sleep. I can’t relax. I can’t seem to stop my muscles from tightening and locking into an uncomfortable position. It’s too hot. I should bring the fan in from the garage, but I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to disturb anyone else. I wonder if she’s even asleep yet. She said she was struggling to sleep as well…. It’s too hot and I feel anxious, restless, tired, and sad. I can’t seem to gather my thoughts or feelings around anything long enough to change things or make it better.I wish he were here. I wish he were sleeping with me...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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