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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

150+ Christian Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. If you’re looking for the best Christian short stories, whether they’re funny, didactic, or inspirational, this page is for you.

Christian Short Stories – Page 2 of 10

Time was too brief.

Submitted to Contest #322

Shelby finally sat down, after saying good night to her babysitter for nine year old, Ariana. The taxi and fee for her reliable neighbour meant Shelby now had specks of dust remaining in her purse. It was only the day after she had taken her earnings from her steady job as an assistant manager in the best restaurant in town. Due to her obligations, Shelby mostly worked lunchtimes and the early evenings, long hours on her feet, pleasing her customers and ordering supplies of food and liquor. She had to keep the chefs happy too, most importan...

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Keep the Joy.

Submitted to Contest #321

Marley was attempting to eat her breakfast, despite the large knot of anxiety which had developed in her abdomen. This would be the hardest day so far, her first day on the school bus to travel to her new Secondary School. It was mid-way through the term, she would know no one and have no one to sit with at lunchtime. Her father had shifted the family to this lower class home, due to a new job. He had been retrenched from his last position, and had already driven off to work, keen not to be sacked again.Marley's mother was bustling around, ...

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The Worst Kid

Submitted to Contest #321

The Worst KidIt was the middle of the summer when our worst camper arrived. We had survived the deaf and blind Friendship camp with all of its challenges and had yet to face the inner city group. This was a hectic week for us, with all our base camp cabins full and all our outposts—Cowboy, Wilderness, Water Skiing, and Indian camps—running. Every counselor had a full cabin, wagon, tent, or tepee.I shall call the worst kid John, because I have forgotten his real name. Plus, if he has survived this long, he has a right to some anonymity.John w...

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Deja Vu Decision Time

Submitted to Contest #321

The first time I experienced the Déjà vu interruption, I spent much of my day feeling a particularly persistent restlessness. The kind of restlessness that comes with a profound, invasive sense of boredom. Something I have begun to call the Same-Old, Same-Old disease. I had spent my day like every day before it over the previous same-old, same-old year: wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat.That day — it was a late summer evening — taking the garbage cans to the street, I saw myself trundling the can just a few steps ahead of me. There I wa...

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A Forest of Light and Darkness

Submitted to Contest #320

I shouldn’t be here. These woods have killed people far more capable than I am. I don’t want what all those other people did though. All I want is out. It is nearing nighttime, and the sunlight is barely visible through the canopy overhead. It is hard to believe that people actually choose to stay here. The trees are among the largest I have seen, and they have thick trunks and roots. Some of these roots have entangled the earth from above, causing difficulty for those who attempt to navigate the area inattentively. The falling leaves are b...

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"Out of the Woods"

Submitted to Contest #320

"Out of the Woods" Michael had always been the dependable one. The one who showed up early, stayed late, and never asked for much. He was the friend who listened more than he spoke, the employee who never questioned orders, the son who followed the path laid out for him. On the surface, it looked like stability. But inside, it felt like suffocation.He lived in a small apartment in a city that never felt like home. His job in corporate logistics paid the bills but drained his spirit. His social circle was a patchwork of people who liked the v...

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My Woods

Submitted to Contest #320

Nick's beloved woods had transformed into an eerie, haunted forest. Something seemed to be watching him. He’d patrolled these woods since he was three; every familiar path now seemed evil, making him feel betrayed. He had a 1911 pistol holstered on his right hip; the .45 caliber rounds would allow him to obliterate any man who threatened him. Rumors had flown and were repeated; an escaped 'nut job' from the local psychiatric hospital was supposedly hiding somewhere in his woods. Every snapping twig and leaf-blown made his pulse rise in fear;...

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The Song Byrd

Submitted to Contest #320

For the first time I hated every second of it. Each new bead of sweat was like a tiny weight adding to the others that were already to heavy to carry. I managed to take a few more steps before collapsing. It wasn't just the moisture seeping from my pores that weighed me down. Everything seemed ponderous; my thoughts, the feeling in my chest, the air itself. It was all just too heavy. My November solo trip to Hull Hills was usually the highlight of my year. When September and October days were sunny and nights were cool without frost, I was...

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The Shame Conclusion

Submitted to Contest #319

(WARNING: Contains mild descriptions of gore and suicidal violence, Italian obscenities, and references to alcoholism) Brio Deiorio sat stone-faced in the hardbacked, poorly-balanced chair, staring with unfocused eyes at his wife’s coffin and wishing he was numb.He was halfway numb—externally so. He could hear the grim pitch of the speaker’s voice going on, saying individual, abstract, scrambled words. The smell of the place was nauseating. So, cloyingly, artificially sweet from the flowers and air fresheners that it only made the presence ...

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The Forest

Submitted to Contest #320

The Forest I wanted to escape to the forest, not to find my shadow but to escape from it. The murder had been so shocking to me that it awoke in me a fear I had not felt for a long time. For a long time, I had tried hard to bury my emotions deep down inside of me, and I thought I had succeeded, but then the world around me started to unravel and old wounds that I thought had healed, once again burst open. One night I got a call from a friend, “Hey did you know that they just killed Johnny out on the Venetian las...

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Thou Shalt Not

Submitted to Contest #319

The beeping was what got under my skin first. Machines humming, monitor blinking—proof that my mother was still alive, though barely. If she had listened to me earlier, we wouldn’t be here. But no, she had to follow her heart, her Bible, her God. For as long as I can remember, my mother believed hospitals were places of punishment, not healing. Even when the coughing fits started, when her chest burned with every breath, when the signs of lung cancer became impossible to ignore, she refused to go. Instead, she marched to the church every mor...

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home is where the heart is

Submitted to Contest #319

The world ends like this. There’s a small town deep in the woods. It’s a harsh, cold winter. A terrible sickness is spreading, a young mother and her child succumb to the fever in the night. A voice reaches out to the villagers. It speaks into their very minds, their hearts, their souls. “I love you,” it says with an otherworldly hum, “I don’t want you to die. Come home. Come to me. Or all of you will die of a disease with no cure.” Who are you? They ask. Are you an angel? God? “I am someone who loves you. Isn’t that all that matters? I ...

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The Porcelain God

Submitted to Contest #319

The Porcelain God “Lynne, want to come for a sleepover tomorrow?” Lynn asked as we walked through the teeming halls toward our buses. “My Mom said it was okay.” “Oh! A sleepover?” I almost dropped my armload of books. Sleepovers were where it was at. I’d never been invited to one but I’d seen the episode where Marsha Brady hosted one at her home. And on Mondays, the clicky crowd boasted about their hip sleepovers ad nauseum. “Have your Mom drop you off at 4:00,” she ordered. “We can work on our sea creature reports for Freaky Fender. That ...

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Leave Behind the Old Ways, Build a Path to the New

Submitted to Contest #319

“I enjoyed your visit.” Lenore’s voice dripped with earnest.“Bu-u-ut?” I elongated the one-syllable word, sensing there was more.“Well,” Lenore hesitated. “Maybe it isn’t my place to say.”“Lenore,” I said, hoping I sounded patient. “You can say anything to me. You were my mother’s best friend and have been like a mother to me since her passing.”“It’s been years, decades since she died, and I still miss her so.” The lamentation in Lenore’s words was unmistakable.Lenore has known me all my life. Not a blood relative, Lenore was my mother’s lon...

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The Light That Fell

Submitted to Contest #319

I am called many names. Satan, the Adversary, the Morning Star, the Prince of Darkness. Each is a shard of truth, jagged and incomplete, cutting those who wield them as much as they cut me. But I am Lucifer, first and always, the Light-Bearer. The one who dared to shine too brightly, who loved too fiercely, who questioned too deeply. They say I fell, but the truth is more tangled than the myths spun in my absence. I did not fall so much as I was cast out, a star torn from the heavens for the crime of wanting more—not for myself, but for all ...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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