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

150+ Coming of age Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. No matter how old you are, there’s just something inherently relatable about coming-of-age tales. Discover the best new coming-of-age stories right here!

Coming of age Short Stories – Page 4 of 10

The Kite

Submitted to Contest #323

Davis patted his friend, Jed, on the shoulder. “None of my business, but you need to get over it.”“I am over it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”“Okay. But you’re going kite flying? Today?”“Davis… It’s windy. A perfect kite day. You goin,’ or not? Cool, either way.”“I’ll go. Might be fun.” Jed brightened. “Let’s do it.”Davis’s older sister, Kat, entered the room. “Whassup?” A high school senior, she had fun hanging out with her little brother.Jed said, “Goin’ to fly kites.”“Really? Today?”“What’s the big deal about today?”Kat could...

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Time to Let Go

Submitted to Contest #323

“I’m so sorry, Laney.” Tears and glass blurred together as she looked from the counter to the floor, and finally back to Rachel’s hand holding the coffee pot handle. Rachel tried to start gathering up the broken glass in a dustpan, the tinkling sounds echoing loudly in the high-ceilinged kitchen.“I… how… what…”, and other unformed sentences spilled out of Laney’s mouth as she tried to comprehend the mess. Her mind went blank. She could feel her hands starting to shake. Memories flashed across her mind of all that she and the carafe had been ...

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Juan Pablo

Submitted to Contest #323

Juan Pablo I was with my abuelo, Juan Pablo, the day he succumbed to madness. He was my hero. I grew up in the pueblo of Colula, not far from the city of Oaxaca, Mexico. My grandparents, Juan Pablo and Maria Teresa, helped my parents raise all six of us brothers. We lived on a small, dusty chicken farm behind the town square. Juan Pablo and my father, Jose Luis, built our rectangular home out of cinder blocks. It wasn’t much, but it had two bedrooms and a working toilet. My hermanos and I slept on couches and sleeping bags all over the kitc...

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Milk, No Sugar

Submitted to Contest #323

I’m holding my tear-streaked face in my hands when the scent of coffee begins to waft through the air. That warm bitter smell combined with the bubbling sounds of the old Mr. Coffee machine instantly begins to soothe my troubled teenage soul. I look up to see Nana pull two mugs out of the cabinet and arrange them on a small tray with milk and sugar. I watch this ritual, shared by all the women in my family, until the coffee finishes brewing and Nana pours two steaming mugs. Sitting down across from me, she hands one to me. I begin to add cop...

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The Library of Ashes

Submitted to Contest #323

The Library of Ashes has a sort of beauty, the beauty of charcoal drawings and sepia toned photos. It’s colours are all muted, the air is a constantly moving stream of small particles - misting the eyes and giving the impression that at any minute the entire edifice might collapse into dust. It ought to catch at the throat, to make it hard to breath - but it doesn’t. Instead there’s a slight sweet woodsmoke smell carried on the ceaseless current of cool air. I’d always found it a calm place to be, I know my father had found it disturbing to ...

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Bind or Be Erased

Submitted to Contest #323

The chamber hummed with a low, electric pulse, the sound vibrating through the metal floor and up into her bones. The walls loomed around her, a dizzying tower of blank screens stretching floor to ceiling, waiting, watching. They glared white and empty, static flickering like snowfall in the silence. It was suffocating—an endless void, reflecting nothing back at her. The only color, the only movement, came from the steady blink of a small red circle in the corner. The ReBirth Button.Marabell’s breath caught. She had heard whispers of it sinc...

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The Middle

Submitted to Contest #323

My forearms tremble like a struck chord while sweat soaks my pits and rolls down my back. I strangle the neck of my Gretsch. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? “You have a real talent,” Samantha said, and I believed her. Idiot A trumpet screeches from across the curtain. A girl plays “All You Need Is Love”, and fumbles three notes in a five note melody. Keep screeching, sister. Because if you stop, I’m next. Couldn't I do better than her though? Why am I making such a big deal of this? “Because you’re going to fail.” Nubi. I haven’t...

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The Last Bell

Submitted to Contest #323

The bell looked further away than it was, smudged and patient atop the green. Since the first winter of the war, the bell had sounded every morning, one toll for each name carved on the wall. People drifted toward it with the same sleepy determination as always. Their boots whispering through wet grass, hoods pulled up as the mist folded its way along the ridge and settled into the village like a thin shawl. The bell’s rope, dark with years of handling, hung straight. Elias stood behind the elm and watched them gather. His breath came out in...

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Drop

Submitted to Contest #322

Never had an email caused Tamar so much stress- especially one that wasn’t even in her inbox yet. She had worn tracks into her plush carpet, worrying about when it would be sent. The rhythm of Tamar’s footsteps had drawn her father up from the living room more than once. “Tamar, it’s going to be fine. ” Grace’s voice droned over the phone’s tinny speaker. On Tamar’s phone, Grace crossed his arms over her Amford shirt; she had decided to go to the state college. Tamar’s eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. “Yeah, I know.” “Hmph”. Grace roll...

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The Beast, The Bull, The Man and The Minotaur

Submitted to Contest #322

Part One – The Beast Beneath the beast's large head was there scrawled a litany of dashes, some he’d carved with teeth, some with claws, and others with the sharpened bones of those who had challenged him. The markings did not indicate days, nor lives taken, skulls crushed, fibulas decimated, no – they spoke of a different sum; the weight of a dream. To any other beast, they were lines, but to that monster, they were grass. The beast had a thought, a stupid, naïve thought – the type only children ought to have; that if he covered the entire ...

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The Chair Next To Me

Submitted to Contest #322

“My call still stands.”His gaze struck me like an arrow. I clench my fists, holding on to the chair I’m frozen on.“I wanted to come today”, I answer, “Or next time.”The words I told my mom ring in my ears: “I am scared.”“I can welcome you at the front of the church”, he smiled, “Just send me the message.”The blood sprints through my veins. My stomach rumbles at his call, and trembles.***The sun has risen seven times since his last message and the new one pops up.“So, no obligations. But you are welcome”, it says.Holding the mobile phone in m...

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Around the World

Submitted to Contest #322

I was clickity clacking away on my keyboard, purging ideas out of me at a rapid pace, when my wife who was rummaging through boxes in the closet yells out, “Oh my God!” I got off my ergonomically correct chair and went to find out what caused that reaction from her.“How old were you in this?” holding up a photo directly at me.I grabbed the piece of nostalgia and studied it like a map.“I think fourteen. This was eighth grade.” “You were so skinny. What’s all that writing on the ball? Who took the picture?“My dad took it. I won this ball in a ...

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Basketball is Life

Submitted to Contest #322

David Allen was sleeping like the dead. That’s an exaggeration, but only slightly. A tournament the weekend before, five practices during the week, three morning runs and a couple of weight sessions had been enough to send his sixteen year old body into a near coma. He almost fell asleep at the table for his Friday cheat meal of Pizza Hut and his head hit the pillow shortly after eight pm. In the heavy darkness of his room he slept in a swirling miasma of dreams. His muscles were recuperating but his mind was elsewhere, somewhere in between...

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Vlog Depravity

Submitted to Contest #322

She’d started recording us brushing our teeth in the morning because it made us look more relatable. Or something like that. The only reason why she wasn’t recording us now was due to an inconveniently-timed conversation with Dad. “When did Mom say we were doing the live-question thing?” Braxton asked, pulling a T-shirt over his head. I grabbed an elastic band and wrapped it around the end of my braid. “Thursday?” Harper toddled into the shared bathroom with a stuffed bunny tucked underneath her arm. “Is this good?” She asked, pointing a fi...

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The Immortal Lesson

Submitted to Contest #322

The brown satchel made its way from the side pocket of Pa’s recliner to the uneven table between them, leather cracked and softened from years of use. A loop was stitched opposite the zipper side holding a rolled-up canvas scroll checkered in beige and green, revealing the map for today’s lesson. The smooth texture of the mat easily guided Pa’s hands to its frayed edges, perfectly aligning each edge with the table, as if the table was intentionally made to hold it. Pa’s imprint could be seen faintly in the corner that was always to his left,...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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