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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

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 4 of 10

In a blink of an eye

Submitted to Contest #309

In a blink of an eye, we had met a long time ago. That is what it felt like when I first caught a glimpse of you in your deep, dark eyes. Somehow, in a world where everything is fleeting, you managed to tie my thoughts into a bunch of clouds and simply attached them to my heart. The way you lifted my spirits to the heavens and pulled me back to the earth's crust with your longing gaze. While my feet felt like pebbles turned to boulders on the beaches resting by the coast, you made yourself appear like the wind I see that grazes along the flo...

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The Preston Predator

Submitted to Contest #310

Amy had grown to love the feel of the sidewalk under her flats on her morning walk to work. Two years ago, everything about the tiny town of Preston had irked her. She had resented her parents for uprooting her and dragging her to the middle of nowhere, but somehow Preston had stolen her heart, and by the time she had graduated high school she no longer felt the need to flee back to society. She took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and paused just outside the bookstore. The morning sun had fully crested the eastern peaks, casting lon...

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Geraldine

Submitted to Contest #309

It was folded into quarters and tucked between pages of a Farmer’s Almanac from 1979. Miles spotted the thick, yellowed paper right away–soft at the edges, like it had spent years basking in the sun on a windowsill. He’d only found the book at all because he’d dropped his phone behind the couch. When he slid the old Chesterfield out to retrieve it, the Almanac fell to the floor, and the letter slipped out, like it wanted to be read. He turned it over in his hands, frowning. Of course he’d find something like this here. Everything in Mr. Haro...

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The Last Cup

Submitted to Contest #309

The kettle whistled just as the morning sun spilled through the kitchen window. Nora reached out to switch it off, the steam rising like a ghost in the air. She plucked the spearmint tea bag from the ceramic jar and dropped it into her favorite chipped mug, cream white with blue vines painted around the rim. It had been her mother's once. Everything in this house had been her mother’s until it became hers. As the hot water rushed over the tea bag, coloring the mug with earthy greens, she felt that familiar pang, like missing someone in a dre...

12 likes 8 comments 8
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Dear R — Scratched Out

Submitted to Contest #309

The sound of the pen against paper scratched against a cavity in my chest that I couldn’t brush off any longer.To the man that I I drew in a deep breath. Touched the inked tip to the straight line.‘Dear R’.I struck that out too.The corners of my lips wobbled.I couldn't even write his name.I'd already wasted three lines with ugly mistakes and messy cross-outs.It was debilitating, searching for the right words.Humbling, because I had to stop and sit with my grief. A grief I’d run away from for so long it spent two years disguised beneath my an...

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The Sound of Blue

Submitted to Contest #309

Eli never learned what color the ocean really was. People told him it was blue or green or gray, but those were just words — words he couldn’t trust. The ocean, to him, was a sound, a presence, a constant rhythm in the world. When he stood at the edge, the crash of the waves drowned out everything else. The wind, the salt on his skin, the sand slipping away beneath his feet—those were the only things that mattered. They were like memories he could never quite hold. Sometimes, he asked strangers at the beach, “What color is it today?” “Blue, ...

6 likes 6 comments 6
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Hysteria

Submitted to Contest #310

Deputy Superitendent of Police Aurangzeb Khan was returning home with his entire family. His only son was driving the SUV. He was quite hopeful for his future as he was good in his studies. As they approached home, he changed, all of a sudden he heard a Gunshot. As he came out from the house, he saw his only Son Shahzeb was bleeding aqnd was in terrible pain.His daughter was yelling "Somebody help, as she saw her father going unconscious after witnessing that his son has loat his life. ALL OVER THE NEWS Shahzeb Khan, the 20-year-old son of ...

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So What If The Impossible Happens

Submitted to Contest #310

Content warning: This story contains gore and depictions of suicideAllen Rubinstein dangled from the ceiling fan, a bedsheet around his neck, contemplating his failures. Even this suicide note isn't original, he thought, looking at the paper pinned to his shirt. "'The words don't come anymore'—didn't some folk singer use that line?"After years of writing and six finished novels, he still couldn't find an agent or publisher. Maybe death would finally make him a bestseller. His wife and kids would get the profits, those bastard publishers woul...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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Who are you, over my Pistachio Pesto Pasta?

Submitted to Contest #309

I hear my choices approaching me, noises from the elevator hint at their appearance. Almost on my doorbell, I remind myself that I have paid their price. I may as well enjoy my purchase. So please, sit down, but let me kiss you first! I want to cook this for you, to treat you right, no need to help. What, you came all the way here and you wish to assist, still? But you've just arrived! Ok, ok, I've yet to peel all the pistachios, my nails are worn out from the process. Help me with these, will you? I'll start bringing all the other ingredie...

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More than a Memory

Submitted to Contest #309

Hand in hand, they sat together on the rocky beach, watching the blood-red sunset. Seagulls bobbed lazily on the waves. They're so free, he thought. If only we could switch places, even just for one day. Just one day would be enough. Lately, all of his thoughts seemed to take the form of a plea. If only this line would move faster, I could spend more time with her. If only my hometown weren't the one that was hit, I might have less of a personal stake in all this. If only I hadn't met her. If only I hadn't fallen in love. If only, if only, i...

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Jasmine and matcha

Submitted to Contest #309

Pouring milk into the greenish powder resting at the bottom of the cup held delicately in her soft right hand, Lia finished making her matcha coffee. She had never tried it before, but something about it caught her attention the day prior in the tiny store next to her new apartment. She felt inexplicably drawn to it — like she had to try it. After stirring the mixture and securing the lid on the cup, she ran to grab her bag and slipped out the door, the warm drink still in hand. No sooner had she reached the street that she realized it was r...

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The Recipe

Submitted to Contest #310

*This story contains murder, some sensitive language and implied abuse.* “What do you want for dinner tonight, babe?” Claire asked. It had been a long day at work and she was exhausted and starving. Jess looked at her blankly. “That’s always the question, isn’t it?” Jess had just returned from a weekend getaway with her best friend for a bachelorette party. She looked dog tired from a weekend of drinking and sunning and partying. “We can Door Dash?” “No. I want to have something homemade. I just spent three days eating out.” Jess was pou...

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Appalachia

Submitted to Contest #309

Most people forget their previous lives upon being reborn. Occasionally you hear stories of small children recalling memories that they certainly couldn’t have experienced, such as being married or having babies of their own. But as they grow up, these memories fade into the new ones being made and all such history of a previous life is lost to the mystery of time. But some small things may linger into adulthood. A kinship with a location or time period. A style of music or a type of cuisine. I was born and raised in Oregon’s vast Willamette...

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Unwritten Consequences

Submitted to Contest #310

The glowing cursor blinked at her, a silent witness to the irreversible act she was about to commit. Nadia Simmons told herself it was an exorcism. That’s what she told herself the night she pressed Publish. A purging.She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom—if you could call it that. A mattress on the floor, a thrift-store dresser, a single lamp with a bulb so dim it made everything look like an old photograph.The laptop glowed in her lap, the cursor blinking next to the final sentence: I let him go, but I never really let go of myself.S...

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Sunday Again

Submitted to Contest #309

TW: DEPICTIONS OF DRUGS, SUBSTANCE ABUSE, AND ADDICTION I used to make omelets for my daughter every Sunday. She would get bored since her friends were all attending church. Her mom’s never been and it was easy for me to drop out of the habit of going once we married, so my daughter didn’t go either. It didn’t matter how many times I told Nadia she could play outside, she’d still end up with her eyes on her phone and waiting for a friend to text back.“You know you have two consoles you could be playing on right now? If you really don’t want ...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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