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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 6 of 10

The Party I Didn't Choose

Submitted to Contest #303

The Party I Didn’t Chooseby Candy Tedford I didn’t have a choice.It was happening with or without me.Turning ten, I mean.People kept saying, “Double digits! That’s so exciting!” and “You’re practically a pre-teen now!” as if I’d just won some sparkly award. But I didn’t feel excited. I felt…nine. Perfectly, completely nine.Nine-year-olds don’t have to do fractions.Nine-year-olds can still eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.Nine-year-olds don’t get blamed for stuff like cake disasters.Ten? Ten sounded suspiciously like trouble.Mom had this v...

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If the End of the World Could Talk

Shortlisted for Contest #302 ⭐️

My name is Sage Duperior, and I once lived at the End of the World. At least, that’s what they call Venice, Louisiana, the last pit-stop before entering into an abyss that is the Gulf of Mexico. It’s the closest thing you’ll get to being on another planet while still floating around on this one. The town is basically surrounded on both sides by water. On the map, the state of Louisiana seems to shrivel out and branch into a frail leaf or two – that’s where Venice is. Somewhere on that leaf. There are stretches of land after it, but it’s all ...

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Normal

Submitted to Contest #302

That summer, all I wanted was to lose my virginity, but the thought of asking any of the guys I knew made my stomach queasy. I wanted it to happen quietly, to get the deed done, without any damage to my reputation, as a good, smart girl. Hillary would have known who to choose, but she wasn’t around to guide me. Tucked away in my bedroom, I turned to the only males I confided in: the life-size posters of Donny Osmond and David Cassidy. Hillary was also there in an 8x10 school photo perched on my nightstand, her framed perpetual smile always n...

5 likes 1 comment 1
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Decision time

Submitted to Contest #302

“I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” I say to the manager.“Well, I’ll explain it again!” He yells back. “You put the lettuce on first, then the sauce, then the cheese, then the meat!”“Didn’t I do that?”“NO! You put the cheese on first!”To cut to the chase, he fired me. I hated that job anyway, so I wasn’t particularly upset. Making burgers wasn’t what I envisioned I would be doing as the culmination of my studies. What happened? That’s simple to answer. I spent the days around the exams playing my friend’s PlayStation trying not to thi...

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The Family Recipe

Submitted to Contest #302

“I need you to take this to Grandma.” With that instruction, Mom handed me a yellowed piece of paper, folded up in fourths. I unfolded it. There were stains on the page, maybe of water, or oil. The handwriting was in cursive and, admittedly, I could not read cursive. The words were loopy and even angling my head sideways and squinting didn’t result in them being anything other than squiggles. Mom held the phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder. She talked to a friend as she diced vegetables for dinner on the cutting board. She wa...

7 likes 6 comments 6
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The Family Recipe

Submitted to Contest #302

“I need you to take this to Grandma.” With that instruction, Mom handed me a yellowed piece of paper, folded up in fourths. I unfolded it. There were stains on the page, maybe of water, or oil. The handwriting was in cursive and, admittedly, I could not read cursive. The words were loopy and even angling my head sideways and squinting didn’t result in them being anything other than squiggles. Mom held the phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder. She talked to a friend as she diced vegetables for dinner on the cutting board. She ...

11 likes 2 comments 2
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Turning Leaves

Submitted to Contest #302

The Sheridan County Police Department had only one holding cell. This time, Riki got the whole thing to herself, chipping concrete walls, rat droppings, and all. The bare cot underneath her creaked threateningly when she rolled away from the wall. The flickering fluorescent lights buzzed in her ears, making her head pound. “How many more times am I gonna pick you up before you get yourself on the straight and narrow, Jane?” Sheriff Simmons leaned against the open cell door, crossing his arms. Richard Simmons was a short man with a mustac...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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I Don't Understand.

Submitted to Contest #302

“I don’t understand!” We both blink in unison; my niece and I. The only difference being the giant droplets of salty water threatening to jump from the edges of her eyes. “I think my period started.” The word “period” is barely audible. But from the lips of my 11-year-old niece, it reverberates like an ancient Chinese gong in my ears. “For like, the first time?!” Geronimo! The salty droplets take flight as soon as the words leave my mouth. “YES!” Leia covers her face with her hands, leaving only her bright red ears to signal her frustration....

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Mr. Bentley

Submitted to Contest #302

“I don’t understand, I just don’t get it.” His voice is quivering and shaky while his face is flushing with emotion. “Why are you doing this?” I sit there snickering behind the trumpet raised to my lips. The band class around me still making a most discordant noise. He is losing control quicker than usual today. It’s only 15 minutes in to the hour long class and he is almost at total breakdown already. He’s already started to run his hands through his combed and jelled dark hair so it is already quite disheveled. He’s tapping his baton ...

22 likes 2 comments 2
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Angel Unawares?

Submitted to Contest #302

“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” -Hebrews 13:2 (King James Bible) When I was 16, my Friday nights were usually always the same. My buddy, Woody Rawlings, would stop by and pick me up in his beat up Ford pickup truck and we’d head for Logansville, the nearest “big town” and we would go and “cruise Willie”(Wilmington Avenue). Woody and me had been pals since 5th grade when he had moved to Kentucky from Detroit. Woody was a tall, skinny guy whose voiced had never changed when he hit ...

9 likes 1 comment 1
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Birdsong

Submitted to Contest #302

Often, those who prefer the cover and darkness of night are called “night owls”. Like real owls, they are awake long after most have retired. But not me. I’ve always been a morning person; I rise with the sun. Sometimes, if I wake early enough I am lucky enough to be the audience for a well-known but rarely appreciated choir. The dawn chorus greets the day each morning; its musicians are the birds. My grandmother used to tell me to spend my mornings in silence so that I wouldn’t miss their sound. My favorite musician in the dawn choir is, of...

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The Pink Pony Girl

Submitted to Contest #302

Carla slouched comfortably in her thread-bare khaki suspenders with the frayed edges cut ages ago because of the threat of outgrowing them. She slurped the last vestiges of her strawberry milkshake happily as she tapped her Doc Marten-clad foot to Pink Pony Club.Her mother entered the room.Carla didn’t notice. Her eyes were closed and the chorus was filling her ears. God, what have you done? You’re a Pink Pony girl and you dance at the club…“Carla, sit up,” her mother swatted her leg.Her eyes popped open and she looked up into her mother’s w...

15 likes 2 comments 2
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This Lady Drives like a Man

Submitted to Contest #302

Did you know old wood is really sharp? Neither did I, until my cheek was gored on the side of a boat. Picture it: Sicily, 1987. I was six years old, playing tag or some Italian variant. It was evening, sometime after dinner during our "passagiata" or walk-after-dinner. My mom sat on a bench along the water, talking to her friends, while I chased the trajectories of little Italian children, with whom I couldn't communicate. What was rules of this game? Was this even a game? Boh, che ne saccio.I ran up and down the cobblestone street in the li...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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The Story of the Trees

Submitted to Contest #301

Poppy Simon's fifteen minutes of fame came when she was thirty-eight. It came precisely twelve weeks after she signed her divorce and resignation papers at her Christopher Columbus High School work office on a Friday afternoon. A few minutes after signing, she took the envelopes and walked 25 steps into the principal's office, sprang open his door while ignoring a mildly protesting secretary, left both of the envelopes on his desk while he was on the phone, gave him the middle finger, turned around, and left. He tried to say something, but ...

3 likes 1 comment 1
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Her Voice, My Turn

Submitted to Contest #301

Birthday Today, I’m turning 40. My husband is out for the whole day at work. I’m at home with two of our three kids. I asked RJ to cut more wood for the seventeenth time. The stove burns the wood fast and I’m not about to turn up the furnace. He might just get motivated by the cold to get off his segg and get moving. Football season is over anyway, what could he be watching now? If the cold doesn’t do the trick, his little sister will make sure. John will be home soon and wanting a hot meal. I need to get the chicken tenders cleaned and br...

9 likes 3 comments 3
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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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