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150+ Contemporary Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. All the newest modern day stories to thrill and inspire, all in one place.

Contemporary Short Stories – Page 10 of 10

Revenge has a Ring to it

Submitted to Contest #313

REVENGE HAS A RING TO IT “This is the restaurant I was telling you about. The food is good, but the Oceanside view is killer, Am I right?”“It’s fine, Davey. A diner would have been fine, too.” “Ed, come on, let’s chill. I wish it hadn’t come to this. I mean, the reason that we’re here.”“It didn’t have to come to this, Davie. And don’t talk like you’re the injured party. It doesn’t suit you. ““Ed, it’s not worth this much bad blood. It’s not like this get-together is another deal breaker. ““Hey, you’re the attorney here, but it seems to me ...

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Making Up The Numbers

Submitted to Contest #313

Sam fully expected Anita’s funeral service to be painful. Held in an airless church, mostly empty, led by a vicar who’d never met the deceased within the ‘on trend’ wicker coffin. Digging out a black suit, Sam sighed at the shiny grease stain on the sleeve. On the cruise with Anita and Frank a few years back, a drunkenly rested elbow found a dish of olive oil. The last time it was worn. Too late to get it to the dry cleaners now. It was raining, of course it was, meaning rummaging about under the stairs for an umbrella that worked, before v...

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Wanting a live change

Submitted to Contest #313

Wanting a life change When I look back on my early years I lived in the lap of luxury. My parents possessed a well appointed house in Greenwich. My bedroom was a large, airy room filled with toys, books and objects carefully selected and approved by my mother. I was an only child. I often thought I would have loved a brother or sister to play with. I occasionally asked my mother if she was going to give me a playmate. Her reply was always the same. The responsibility of one child is enough. I was the center of their attention and in those ...

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Spectrum

Submitted to Contest #313

Contains some domestic violence Spectrum I can’t stop staring. Beautiful you. I will fix your face in my mind and on my palette, I will blend pigments with joy until I can paint you in colours of wonderful. My stained fingers itch and twitch, picking and snagging at the flimsy cotton of my long skirt. It is bitterly cold—my thick cardigan and scarf, the only items to ward off the chill. Already, I am mentall...

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The Mat

Submitted to Contest #313

The cork mat had been on the floor for hours. Sandy nearly tripped on it twice, and since she’d had 3 Zoom meetings back to back, as soon as she remembered it was there, the thought shuttled through her brain and out the other side. Around 3, she looked at the clock. Kevin should have been home by now. He was supposed to be making the pasta sauce for their dinner, and the lack of sour tang in her nostrils as he put in his usual overdose of tomato paste was puckering her tongue to the roof of her mouth in a ghost of anticipation. Not that sh...

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Pages Taken Out of a Journal Behind a Diner in Kansas

Submitted to Contest #313

Monday I left them a letter, so they’ll know why I’m going. I didn’t tell them where, though, so they won’t be able to follow me. I first planned on just walking the whole way, but, once my original enthusiasm for the idea had worn down a bit, and once I started to get hungry, I stopped by the side of the road and held out my thumb. Not expecting much of it, I was about to turn to walk back to the gas station I’d seen about a mile before when somebody actually stopped. It was a big truck, with a big man sitting in front who had a...

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The Train leaving New York

Submitted to Contest #313

Ruth dusted off the bits of snow that fell through the small cracks in the overhang so Teresa could sit down. Teresa was a woman of many hair colors, often dying her soft short curls ginger one week and brunette the next. Most days she smells of ammonia and lemon from the tea she drinks every morning. Her heavy-set figure meant she waddled a bit with each step yet she hadn’t cared to lose an ounce of weight, despite being like this her entire life. “If I was all bones I’d freeze to death!” she’d say whenever Ruth voiced her unease about Tere...

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Speeding in a Foreign Land

Submitted to Contest #313

The public announcement system which was probably installed in the 1950s bellowed out a very loud and distorted command, first in the native language, then in German, and finally in English: “Will the next visitor please go to counter number seven?” Sarah caught the German version and nudged Robert to start walking to the right. Robert noted that this is their lucky day, for seven is the most common roll with two dice and is an automatic winner in Craps. “Yes,” Sarah retorted, “but only if it’s a new shooter’s first roll; otherwise, it’s his...

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Cut and Clarity

Submitted to Contest #313

Like a church fresco, the night sky hung over the man standing in his front yard in the middle of America. Behind him stood the historic brick home that he shared with his wife. In the front window, her face poked through a parted curtain, anxiously watching him, waiting for him to come back inside.But the glittering dots above called to him.Come join us. Come join us, the stars whispered, their bewitching celestial voices tickling his ear. They were doing everything they possibly could to capture his attention and entice him to meet them in...

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Two Bees Drowning in Coca-Cola

Submitted to Contest #313

1. Two Bees... What were they thinking, doing, whatevering, that brought them here in the first place? What sweeter nectar does your soul sing for when red roses and purple petals flood your nostrils with the purest perfumes? His pen glides over faint blue lines, carving smudged cursive into the creased A6 page. His fingertips are stained, rough, and shiny with ink residue. The waxy tang rises to his nostrils like the first curl of smoke to a nicotine dependent.So he writes. What then, when those daffodils dance themselves to death, for kni...

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Talking in Loud Bars

Submitted to Contest #313

Darcy Williams steps off the tube into the cool autumn air of the city and lights a cigarette. Her metal flip lighter is engraved with the name of the man she is on her way to meet; her father had never been a smoker but always kept the lighter on him. She is still in her work clothes, having only taken the time to drop her briefcase before dashing out the door again, although, in most ways, this was work. Her boss had pitched her the article about childhood, about elderly parents, about distance. She knew she could do it, of course she coul...

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The Trouble In The House

Submitted to Contest #313

He inhaled lightly at the opening of the bottle. He let all the flavors permeate his nostrils. Cherry. Smoky oak and a hint of vanilla. He could already taste hints of the liquid on the back of his tongue. The scent lingered around the bottle and heightened as he poured it into the glasses in front of him. It had been a rough day for all of them. His wife and her sister had already started begging for wine before they’d started cooking dinner. Now the scents of roasted tomatoes, sweet peppers, and garlic intermingle with the deeper, rusti...

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Time to go

Submitted to Contest #313

Where’s your shoes? Come on guys, seriously, we need to move”“Mum, where’s my oodie?”“I’ve packed it already, just grab your bags, we need to leave”“But I need my oodie”“Now! let’s go, grab your bags and get in the damn car”I laughed as my best friend marched her tribe out to the van. She smiled at me as her 4 kids piled out the door. Bags and hats, shoes in hands. They had been planning this trip for months. I was looking after the house and the animals for them while they were away for a two-week camping trip to the Blue Mountains.The van ...

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Carbonara

Submitted to Contest #313

Melanie pushed the dog fur tumbleweed around on the floor with the toe of her shoe. She had been meaning to sweep for a week now but couldn’t muster the energy. “Mel, are you listening?” “What? Sorry, yeah. It’s just the floor.” “The floor?” James stared at her in the way he always did when he was trying to hide his frustration. It was like he thought if he practised enough she wouldn’t notice the downturn of his mouth, or the furrow in his brow, but of course she always did. “Yeah, there’s fur on the floor, and it’s that I meant to—I just...

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Old lovers café

Submitted to Contest #313

Years. It’s been years since then. Yet, every now and then, I still catch the scent — cinnamon, old books, freshly brewed coffee with a hint of amber, and it’s like time folds in on itself. One breath, and I’m back in that café, light spilling in across the scratched-up table, your hand brushing mine over a the rim of a chipped porcelain cup. I don’t remember the conversation — just the feeling— of almost saying something, of almost reaching for something we both knew wouldn’t last. Funny how scents hold more truth than memory ever could. I ...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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