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

790+ Black Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Discover the best new stories by Black authors, written to themed prompts and curated by our judges.

Black Short Stories – Page 5 of 53

A Gripping Tale

Submitted to Contest #271

Date: March 12th, 2023 I always thought I was an average person. There’s nothing too interesting about me after all, I make sure of that but today…. proved otherwise.  Just like any other day I walked home after school. If you've been paying attention to my entries, you know I'm avoiding ‘The Person’. Unoriginal I know, but I suspect I have a stalker. My reasoning? Because of the constant rustling I hear when walking home. That and hearing tapping on my window. I don't know who would stalk me. Like I said I'm an average girl and have no...

11 likes 2 comments 2
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Wrapper

Shortlisted for Contest #269 ⭐️

Before I even saw your face, I had the wrapper picked out. It was made of crimson Ankara, adorned with golden flowers outlined in black. I had others, of course - which Yoruba woman doesn’t? But that one was yours.  When I first pressed you against my back and draped you in the fabric, shifting so you’d be comfortable when your grandmother tied it off, I fought to blink back the tears. After months of hospital visits and late night feeding sessions, you were finally big enough to be backed. I tried to imagine what it would feel like for...

28 likes 11 comments 11
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Unexpressed Love

Submitted to Contest #268

"Hi, Jey, what's up?" That's the last thing you said to me. Anything else after that couldn't count because it was no longer you. The days I would visit you in silence, just there waiting for a doctor to tell me anything new. I was new, newly confused, newly responsible, and Newly a voice. Your voice, I didn't know what I was doing. One moment, I was twenty-six. The next, I was spending my days in a hospital room. Sifting through years of paperwork and medical records. Trying to understand. You weren't able to speak much, and honestly, I cou...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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Please Forgive the Lady in Red

Submitted to Contest #268

In a gloomy town of Monmouthshire, there lived a woman, Lynn Jones. She was a bartender in a grimy haunt of a tavern — Old Peg Leg. Lynn would toll the clock, Wednesday to Friday, at a humdrum pace, serving the thirsty brutes of Pontypool. The place wafted in pipe smoke, the ceiling hung low, burnt with ash. It resembled a coal pit in a hole in the earth. Drunkards guffawed at stupid stories and swivelled on rickety stools, demanding more ale for their flagons. In a rhythm, Lynn would yell at the lunkheads to “shut the hell up” while she pou...

10 likes 4 comments 4
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Where do broken hearts go?

Submitted to Contest #267

Chama braced herself for the long journey ahead. The night was dark and windy, with a storm brewing on the horizon. Determined to press on, she prepared to face the strengthening downpour. Mulenga had shattered her heart, and the sting was compounded by his call that night, his voice tinged with concern as he asked, “Are you alright?”How did he expect her to respond after their breakup two weeks ago? She had been waiting for him in the restaurant, her heart racing with the hope that his call meant a proposal was imminent. Instead, he arrived...

2 likes 0 comments 0
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A benevolent dream

Submitted to Contest #267

     Allow no man to asunder the love we engender; bereft of the tongue which apostatized the moon, this vessel had grown no more than a squirming mass cast aloft the abyss. Yet even stripped of light, a spurned star grows apathetic to its aches of melancholy, one's lament eclipsing the interminable laughter of the skies.     If one is ever remedied of agony, who was once divine must pray for their forgiveness… To balter amongst the precipice of demise, finding love amongst the maelstrom of g...

4 likes 1 comment 1
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Adolescent Tempest

Submitted to Contest #267

Skeel Nishiyama stared down into the courtyard, sparsely lit by dying lamplight, at the body of a woman who had lived only moments ago. Even from the balcony, the child could see blood pooling around the lifeless corpse, seeping into cracks lining the stone streets. He could smell it; blood was on the steel railing he clung to now, where she'd fallen back and ripped open her palm. He couldn't bring his voice out, the night as silent as the unmoving lump of flesh. The corpse of his mother. His insides threatened to spill out as the spinning s...

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Should I TellHer

Submitted to Contest #267

SHOULD I TELL HER? Why did you pick me to dance? You seem to know what to do on the dance floor. Can’t say that about most of the other guys around here.” “Just saw some pretty legs that seems they should be on the floor.” “Thanks. I’m glad you thought so.” “This one sounds like a cha cha beat. Wanna go for it?” “Don’t think I know how to cha cha. Wanna show me?” “Love to. Those pretty legs shouldn’t be just standing around.” He was hoping they’d be wrapped around his neck before the night was over. “Are you from around here?” she asked. “Ha...

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Coffee riot cafe

Submitted to Contest #267

Out side the most quiet street as once had been a few years back.ànd night time walking was safe . especially for homeless begging make in that now suburb turned gang members violence eruption of loud people who have al preferences to sitting around a cafe first in morning and let them know that police are on the lookout for the public gang of a shooting and a drug release and burglary heavy night of shooting coffee consumption and drinking in the local community pub.all the full schooners they were able to having half of price that one off ...

6 likes 0 comments 0
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Why do you write?

Submitted to Contest #266

 Why Do You Write? “I’m sorry. Your story isn’t what we are looking for.” Chidinma rubbed her hand under the table. The cafe felt stifling, even though there were four AC units at each corner. She never liked cafes. Why pay $12.30 for a cup of coffee when you could make your own at home? It bothered her that Lindsay's coffee was still untouched. Chidinma felt out of place here—this wasn't her country, so why did she feel like she was begging them to recognize her? “Not what you are looking for?” she stammered—a bad habit. Nesara was a s...

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Fire Leaves the Body, but Remains in the Soul

Submitted to Contest #265

“My son, is that you?” His voice ushers a chill down my spine. Vultures circle above his head, shadows emitted by their flapping wings cover his hollow gaze. His body, ravaged by deep gashes, torn skin, and shredded flesh, has long been restrained by heavy iron chains strapped to an unwieldy boulder. The breathtaking vista behind him is veiled by the weight of iron shackles. A sweeping view of endless beauty, unreachable behind bars of torment. The summit of Mount Caucasus reveals a paradise, yet his soul remains imprisoned; the sky’s endles...

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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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Memories

Submitted to Contest #264

July 30, 2023 Gayle opened the box labeled Pictures and Memories and sank into the abysmal puddle of her own making. The first picture out of the box was one face-down bearing the date: July 30, 2022, exactly one year ago today. The picture displays the man Gayle loved and still loves on his wedding day to another bride. A picture of two friends, moments before he said, “I do.” Gayle didn’t want to be there and opted to stay away, but as her beloved said to her, “I can’t get married without you. You have carried me through so much and I tru...

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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...

25 likes 18 comments 18
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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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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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