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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 8 of 10

Cozy Cryptid

Submitted to Contest #319

The phone on the nightstand lights up and bzzzts, blaring ‘Bloodletting’ by Concrete Blonde.Sid’s idea of a joke he never reprogrammed.With a groan, Jed reaches over and swipes it silent. It’s 2 a.m. Time to get ready for work.He slips into his sweatpants and pads into the kitchen where he opens the fridge on rows and rows of bloodbags with DONOR in big, bold letters printed on the front. He nabs one at random, pokes it open with a metal straw, and sips it in four quick glugs on his way to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth, files them down ...

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Jolly Gardens

Submitted to Contest #319

The community garden was named ‘Jolly Gardens’ for a long-passed fire chief named John Pfluger I am told. When asked if ‘Jolly’ was some kind of nickname or a particular expression of his, none of us knew. The sign at the garden’s entrance doesn’t say.“Now those are the gooseberry?” Mrs. Shannon asked something she already knew.“Yes,” I’d said, squinting up into the sun and handing one over. “A little like the tomatillo you liked.”“A good fall one?”“Yes,” I said. “Nice for jams.”She was repeating what I’d told her a week before, so I’d just ...

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Signal Lost

Submitted to Contest #320

The notification pinged across nine different phones simultaneously: Weather window confirmed. Departure 0600 tomorrow. Don't forget the drone batteries. —Derek Leia Fong double-tapped to heart the message in their group chat before switching to her Instagram stories. The Ring light cast perfect illumination across her packed gear as she filmed herself doing final equipment checks. "Day zero of the Kholat Syakhl expedition," she announced to her 50k followers, using the mountain's indigenous name that most people couldn't pronounce. "Nine fr...

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A Ringing in Her Ears

Submitted to Contest #319

The school bus barreled down the desert road, a glowing spectacle of reflected sunlight on its way to the Grand Canyon. Mrs. Maloney gazed upon the infinite swaths of blurred sepia as they passed by. This is all my doing, she thought. All of it. A month ago, a siege had begun on her consciousness that felt akin to an awakening, a constant barrage of prayers from the world’s believers, all packaged differently – questions, statements, pleas in every language – but all understood by her and all circling around a shared point of pain. A month...

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Every Unread Message

Submitted to Contest #319

I keep telling myself he is just busy. That is what love is supposed to be: understanding, waiting, trusting. But every unread message feels like a knife turning in my chest. I see him online. I see him active. And still nothing. Hours. Sometimes days. Then a photo appears, him laughing, alive in a world that does not include me. His smile cuts straight through me. It tells me I am not necessary. I do not want to be jealous. I do not want to be this person. But silence eats me alive. It does not sit still. It claws, it presses, it whispers. ...

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THE PROTECTOR

Submitted to Contest #319

THE PROTECTORby Diane L. Goodman I am small but powerful. I am just 5.8 inches long and 1 inch wide. I weigh just 17 ounces. But inserting a 10-round magazine boosts my weight to a hefty 24 ounces. I’m handsome, too. Sleek silver stainless steel slide. Shiny black barrel. Stippled grip. Day/night sights. I am a Sig Sauer P365 semi-automatic pistol. I lie on a glass shelf in a large glass case. I am the middle one in a row of seven, a Sig P226 on my left and a Browning 1911-22 A1 on my right. There is a card in front of each of us, stating o...

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The human race must be exterminated. So sorry. Sincerely, the aliens.

Submitted to Contest #319

The human race must be exterminated. So sorry. Sincerely, the aliens. The time has come; my five years on Earth have ended. I must submit my findings. It’s not looking good for them — the facts and the numbers are all there. Proof is in my pudding, as they would say. Poor fools. It was a good five years. I enjoyed it. I met the most interesting people and saw wonderful places. My concern is simple: the human race has eaten its own tail. The majority of society is crippled. Most governments are overseen by — bluntly put — idiots. People are ...

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The Monday Decision

Submitted to Contest #319

The police showed up on the doorstep in the middle of a Monday morning. Julie had seen the kids off to school, cleaned up from the breakfast mess and started the laundry, and she was just settling down with a cup of coffee and the New York Times crossword (too easy on a Monday, but it helped to shape her week). She tsked irritably at the interruption to her routine. Weekends were stressful, and she enjoyed the comparative calm when she was alone in the house at last. Two police officers stood in the doorway: a man in plain clothes and a unif...

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Cyclonic!

Submitted to Contest #320

Once upon childhood, a little boy named Jimmy wandered away from his family at a wildlife sanctuary. His Dad joked that he was only taking his wildlife to visit other wildlife. Jimmy was around nine years old. He had giggled, but his big sister, Tiarna, had rolled her eyes, saying, "You're so not funny, Dad."Tiarna often told Jimmy that he was their parents' mistake, so he was not supposed to annoy her. At the wilderness refuge in the forest, it was a blazing, scorching hot day. Jimmy decided to stroll away from his Mum and Tiarna, who was ...

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The Unraveling

Submitted to Contest #320

Another day.Truman nudged me again, his silent encouragement pulling me back to the present.I straightened my shoulders, wiped my cheeks, and released a slow, steady breath. The woods were waiting. My life was waiting.I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. I texted Sam:I sat on the fallen log, with Truman panting beside me. All I could hear was the rustling of leaves, and Truman, my English cream Golden Retriever and loyal companion. I knew I wouldn’t have gotten through the last two years without him by my side. He pressed his wet ...

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The Demon Wears Yoga Pants

Submitted to Contest #319

September 2025The Demon Wears Yoga Pants ‘Hello Jaime. Miss me?” “Get out. You’re not welcome here.” She slithers in, claws in her voice, sugar in her tone, “Oh please, I will always come back.” I yank on my yoga pants like armor, twist my hair into a warrior’s knot. “No! You are not going to take over again.” “Of course not,” She grins sarcastically. “You’re fine.” My voice is strong. The voice of a warrior. Sure. But she is already pushing. I unroll my mat. Ten minutes of morning salutations. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe in peace. “A waste of ...

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Pestilence

Submitted to Contest #319

A glacier breaks near Svalbard, in the middle of the day. The small island's populace worries about its shoreline. They know what this means for them, and yet the rest of the world sleeps soundly, unaware that a couple more inches of water will claim their land in the next few years. A small crawl towards disaster, seemingly invisible to human eyes—but Pestilence, and her sisters, can see it. The worst part about it, however, was that Pestilence had nothing to do with this one. Over the course of history, she had gone by a different title. S...

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The Dark City

Submitted to Contest #319

CW: Physical and sexual violence, gore This city is a living thing. It breathes, thinks and feeds, it has a history and a personality. And moods. Just like all the most fascinating people, it’s unpredictable: it can charm you, embrace you or turn on you when you least expect it. On a sunny day, the city is bright, bustling and full of energy. At night, it changes. It looms over you, snaps at you, mutters threats. There’s no telling how it might trip you up: what monsters might lurk in the darkness.It had been a fun night. It was Georgia’s b...

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Oscar The First

Submitted to Contest #319

Growing up in a wealthy family isn't easy. There is a strong expectation, from the moment you're born, to become a replica of those who surround you, which might be cute for some, but it was always my worst nightmare. I was the first son. My arrival was planned and strategized, just like everything around our household. Surprise family members would not have helped my parents' careers, so I arrived shortly after my mother got a promotion and my father opened his architecture studio. I spent a lot of time with a nanny who took over the care o...

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A view of life from a high position

Submitted to Contest #319

A view of life from a high positionLife was good. I had just received our group's recognition as their leader. It was a responsible position. I had to make sure we enjoyed the four essentials of the group’s existence. Food, water, safety and fertile space to roam. Safety was a concern but we lived in a protected area from humans that enjoyed killing either to show us as a trophy or just for the pleasure of the hunt. Sometimes they find value in our skins, not surprising as it was one of our great prides. We were blessed as the savannah and ...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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