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11000+ 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 706 of 734

Two of Those

Submitted to Contest #67

Two of Those Please “I’ll have…” “They aren’t fattening you know.” “I, didn’t know!  But then, I don’t know what goes on here.” When Win Pegasus landed on Quagmire, I should say crashed on our little planet, he claimed to have done so by accident, but then he was more than a little confused. I asked him how he could have crashed by accident and he really didn’t have a believable answer, or so it seemed, but then our translation system hasn’t been updated in quite some time. It has a tendency to rearrange the words in dyslexic f...

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A Pirate's Life For Me

Submitted to Contest #67

Here are some things that are said by, and about, alcoholics. Mostly these come from famous men celebrated for their genius and their drunkenness. Others I learned during my years of AA meetings. 1) First you take a drink. Then the drink takes a drink. Then the drink takes you; 2) As an alcoholic, you will violate your standards quicker than you can lower them; 3) Work the program. Hang in. Keep coming. Believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.And here are some things that are said by, and about, pirates. 1) Yo ho...

30 likes 18 comments 18
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A Hard Day's Night

Submitted to Contest #67

The sound of the key slipping into the lock echoed throughout the empty street. Darkness surrounded Lisa’s feet, making it hard to see more than two feet in front of her. Figures they still haven’t fixed that light. I told Mario what three weeks ago? And no one even bought a light bulb. I hate my job. I hate my life. Strolling, Lisa finally came into the arc of light from the street. Once she could see her feet, she walked briskly. Midnights weren’t a good time to be alone around here. Why on earth did I train as a chef? Didn’t I reali...

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Don't Cry, Okay?

Submitted to Contest #67

Lying on his deathbed, old Noah slipped a piece of paper into his wife's hands while she was bawling her eyes out. As the crests of his ECG readout battled to keep the man alive, he knew his end was near and knew exactly what his last words were going to be. And to whom. Slipping his hand out of the embrace it was in with Jocelyn's hands, he sandwiched her face between his palms, brought her closer, and kissed her just as passionately he kissed her the first time. Maybe more. With the routine beeps of the machine growing louder and louder in...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Betraying the reader

Submitted to Contest #67

I wanted to throw it against the wall – that's what people say sometimes about books they don't like. It's anger. In some cases, it may even be actual Incredible Hulk/run-around-like-you're-on-fire rage. Why is the reaction so strong? If we purchase other items, such as a new brand of potato chips or what have you, and they're terrible, we say Yuck, and then we shrug and move on. We do not have the urge to strangle potato chips. The difference with a book seems to be that readers feel, not only disappointed (although they are) but ...

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If only the walls had eyes: Confessions of a Trophy Wife

Submitted to Contest #67

It was on glum and gloomy, thunderous nights like this that I sat by the grand marble fireplace and reflected on my life to the rhythm of the rain. The chandeliers, the glare of the grand piano and ivory centrepieces of the penthouse dimly glistened in the room as I had requested, being the first lady of the Sapphire Hotel sure had its perks. I lit a few more chandeliers so I could look at the people on the sidewalk of the busy yet opulent left wing of the city. Some were businessmen, stockbrokers and private bankers in suits; others were...

13 likes 1 comment 1
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Lost in a World of Snow

Submitted to Contest #67

She caught you one day, doing lines of coke on your kitchen table while your four-year-old slept two doors down. She had known about your addiction for months now. You had fought about it many times before. Your parents, your sisters, even your friends had tried in vain to intervene. But this time, it was different. This time was the first time that you had gotten high in the home that you shared with her. She had reached her limit. She couldn’t take it anymore. She got up in your face whispering angrily, desperate to try and make you see se...

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It Ain't Dark Yet

Submitted to Contest #67

                            It’s Ain't Dark Yet  “It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there,” a lyric that invokes varying images, but it caused me to think of where we are as a people, a country. Just using the term people, magnifies for me, the differences as opposed to the similarities we share. When we agree with someone, or a groups ideology, we accept that generally we are sim...

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Dragon's Gold

Submitted to Contest #67

Just do it. I urged myself, the gun shaking uneasily in my hand. Do it and get it over with. He looked so peaceful lying there, unaware of the death sentence pointed at his head. I had to do it. I had to complete the assignment. You can’t let your feelings get in the way. What feelings? I can’t have feelings. Not for a target, not for anyone. If Z knew… Com’on, just point and shoot. I cocked the hammer. In a second it will all be over with. As if in slow motion, my finger found the trigger, and pulled. 24 Hours Earlier: I strode ...

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Moon Cut

Submitted to Contest #67

Moon Cut He wiped the bloody blade on his shirttail. She watched from the keyhole, afraid to breathe for fear of being found out. She felt her heart beating through her night shirt, droplets of fear seeping from beneath her head band, and closed her eyes. She had watched him drag the body, or what she imagined a body, wrapped in the curtain he’d taken from the window. He opened the rear doorway to the exterior staircase and disappeared. She listened to the plodding steps grow faint.  She opened her eyes once again an...

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Smile For the Camera

Submitted to Contest #67

Poem's Title: A Thing of BeautyBy: Emery GomezA Thing of Beautythat he was, madeof haunted past andsympathetic hugs.He recognized herbeauty and ignoredthe village files.He made her softenwith one of his smiles.Power coursed in herblood, so muchshe could bathe in a flood.Every night he stolea scale and luredher in deeper.He saw value in everyinch of her,she saw salvation wheneverhe was near.But salvation has it's priceand she was theperfect sacrifice.Fiery scales and emerald eyesscorching breath and deafening sighsA thing of beauty,that she w...

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With the Best of Economic Intentions.

Submitted to Contest #67

Reedsy hasn’t deemed it necessary to give us a ‘Satire’ category yet. I guess satire mainly appeals to the disillusioned that have had the scales fall from their eyes to rain down to their feet like Autumn leaves. This little effort below is crass and uncouth, and I had fun writing it. ************************************************************  I think I should be able to put one over this prick. He’s not a prick really, - he’s my friend. He says he is a businessman, yet spends half his time coaching kids. He must have some ulte...

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And Mercy More Than Life

Submitted to Contest #67

I want a life where I don’t hurt so much and so often. I think that’s what Sophie wants, too. Not just for herself but for me. Isn’t that what we all want for our family? You may not know my sister personally but you’ve probably seen signs with her name around the city, “SOPHIA HARBOR for MAYOR.” She’s pretty much a sure bet at this point. Sophie’s backed by the firefighter and police unions and well-respected by many key community members. Her platform is strong for her base, she’s pro-life, anti-drug, and supports the troops. Everyone know...

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For Mother

Submitted to Contest #67

What had he done? He was speechless. His cross was clenched tightly in his left hand, knuckle pale and white. Who would believe what he just witnessed? The young man had struck a deal one would only believe to be figurative. However, he fixed the conceptual belief to fit reality.  The boy was always an extremely faithful Christian, which made him incredulous about what he did. He just made a deal with the devil.  He tried focusing on the reasoning, it was the only thing grounding the broken boy.  “For mother...for mother...

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The reality of our love story.

Submitted to Contest #67

The glamorous world for Ryan wasn't an accident that happened over time, He was determined to make a place in the Indian film industry for himself and wanted to do whatever it takes. Life sometimes throws us things we could not catch. Or maybe we could. it would happen with everyone, and that was how it all started for 27-year-old Ryan. Ryan Parker stared at the laptop in front of him, the one he had purchased from an old shop in Mumbai. It was discarded yet working. As he researched about the new reality show, He looked around his shabb...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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