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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

5280+ Creative nonfiction Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. The creative nonfiction stories on this page deliver exactly what it says on the tin: true stories told in weird and wonderful ways.

Creative nonfiction Short Stories – Page 2 of 353

Living Shadows

Submitted to Contest #295

Every day, when the weather isn't too cold or rainy, I go to my favorite reading spot. I throw on my clothes and hop on the bus, counting the minutes until I reach my second home. I arrive at a small garden outside the local library. The long, curved stone bench hugs the evergreen bushes as the little songbirds skip around the trees. I peer through the wall of windows into the library building with its rocking chairs offering a porch view of the garden. A tall, bronze sculpture stands in the sun, greeting me as the diligent host. There’s a p...

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Ode To Jelly

Submitted to Contest #296

Claire had never known the house without the sound of Jelly’s nails tapping the hardwood floor. It was like the metronome of her life—steady, patient, always returning. For ten years, he had been more than a dog. He was a shadow stitched to her heel, a silent witness to the jagged rhythm of her days. When the world felt too sharp, too fast, too much, Jelly was there—mountain-strong and river-quiet.Now, the silence lingered longer in the mornings.She lay in bed, her eyes closed, feigning sleep. There was no use checking the time anymore. Her ...

18 likes 10 comments 10
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Attending My Own Funeral

Submitted to Contest #295

Attending my own funeral was not the weirdest thing I’ve done. No, seriously, why is your right eye twitching? In fact, this is the least weird thing that has happened to me yet. I remember the time when- “Hello? Is anyone sitting here?” a girl’s voice snapped me back to the present. The girl had large, brown eyes that seemed so fragile that they might break, just like the dark porcelain she had for skin. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she was wearing a dark, depressing dress. It was complicated, which was even more depressin...

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Sacrificial Lamb

Submitted to Contest #295

CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND TECHNICAL SUICIDE The stone beneath my back had become warm with the seeping feeling of my blood leaving my wounds, outdated ruins being carved into my arms like a fresh canvas for theirs truly. When the darkness enveloped my vision I let out a small, quiet sob… I don’t want to die just yet; I don't want this to be my funeral.Oh dear Lord, will you bleed for my sins like I have yours?The gravel, which continued to pile high on the ground, seeped through the pores of the mossy walls. It was an underground tomb, or if you...

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Death Rituals

Submitted to Contest #295

Death RitualsEloise sighed and walked towards the unframed portrait standing for all the world like a stick insect on its easel in the middle of the functions centre. She hated functions centres. These empty, soulless spaces swooped on for weddings, funerals, baby showers, political hob-nobbery and product displays. What was Henry’s portrait doing in a functions centre, for pete’s sake!? Dazzling Henry, the creative love of her life, the hilarious, outrageous, popping cork of an ideas bottle, the genie that appeared miraculously and smokily ...

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Goofy Blue Goggles

Submitted to Contest #295

"Medics will life flight him to the nearest critical care facility." The words seemed normal to my ears, in tone and content. Still lying on the living room floor, my husband looked up at me with his blue eyes that could talk without sound. “A stroke,” says ambulance paramedics, and off they went.Weeks of critical care, neurosurgery for removal of blood on the brain and pneumonia lead to near death in Week 4. The lights in those blue eyes went dim, but not dark. I knew he would not want to live by artificial means or be a burden on anyone. L...

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Hopeless

Submitted to Contest #295

Soft, damp grass is what I was standing on. I looked down. Pale, smooth skin covered my feet. A sharp noise made me look up but I saw nothing to alarm me between the rapidly flying tendrils of my red hair. It was so bright; the sun shone intensely and I received all the fierce expression of her joy dazedly. I took one step, and then another. The grass was really pretty. It seemed to shine. “Lora!” I looked up. My reflection stared back at me in a cracked mirror at the corner of a room. My nose wrinkled, slowly. It smelled rather awful here...

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Passage thru the Trees

Submitted to Contest #295

Quiet solitude. Time to think. What will be the next move? Change, a good think, maybe. Doesn't mean I have to like it, Martha thought. Well, this is the perfect place to think according to my spiritual advisor. People from all over the world come here, this spot, to feel the pull. And this place is practically in my backyard, so to speak. There are several of these spots, where the trees growing nearby give away the sign of the vortex. The tree bark grows in a spiral, even on the branches. But this spot, others say, is a strong portal t...

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Creating Existence

Submitted to Contest #295

Her legs are completely numb, yet she remains oblivious. Lost in a profound state of "no mind," Lorrain delves deeply into her meditation, seeking the intangible rewards that beckon her. Every day, as the world slumbers, she rises at 3 a.m. and glides silently to the meditation room. Seated cross-legged on her cushion, she slips effortlessly into a profound trance, a realm between sleep and wakefulness, where thoughts evaporate like morning mist.She begins by placing her awareness at the base of her spine. Wrapped three and a half times arou...

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to Whom it May Concern: PART TWO

Submitted to Contest #295

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: PART TWO I do not wait for ideal circumstances or favorable conditions. I find myself, here, in this present, whatever may happen or not happen. -David Dillard-Wright, PhDPlease, wake me up.Please…. Wake, me, up!!! She remembers her mother’s voice speaking so quietly…No honey…You’re not dreaming. 05-12-88 This is my dream.I’ll decide where it goes from here.-Alice Epiphany. She can’t think of the meaning, but she does know that it sounds like an Amy, word. Kind of. Epiphamy. She knows what it means,...

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Writing on Reedsy

Submitted to Contest #295

I have written a fair number of short stories. I went to the trouble of self-publishing some of them, which I shamefully admit was very expensive. I even paid for a marketing campaign, which did next to nothing. It really hit home to me how useless self-publishing was, when I showed up at a bookstore with a bunch of copies of my book, and they told me they don’t sell self-published books. After this I realized all that money had been effectively wasted.So, the next stage in my plan is to win a writing competition. If I can do that, maybe I c...

20 likes 32 comments 32
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Waffle Fries, Coffee and the Blues

Submitted to Contest #295

There I was in my favorite restaurant, at my favorite corner table with the dreaded writer’s block. I often liked to get away to this place and just hide myself in my laptop and just write, but that night I just couldn’t think of any story ideas at all. I’m not sure how long I sat there as I stared out over the cars in the drive-thru. The looks that I received back from the drivers let me know it must have been a while. It’s not that I stared at them; it’s just that they were in my field of vision that went past the cars in the drive-thru, p...

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Buffalo Nickel

Submitted to Contest #295

Buffalo NickelGary GrissomI was painfully shy and had very low self-esteem when I was in high school. For example, when I would get up the courage to phone a girl, I would stutter as soon as she would answer and say hello. I would say “Th-th-this is-is-is” and then I would hang up before I would say my name. At least the girl didn’t know who I was, I would rationalize. After doing this several times, I finally confided to my big brother, Lee, and he suggested that I take a deep breath and then try scatting jazz notes while I dialed the girl’...

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Dating with Intention

Submitted to Contest #295

CW: Sexual references, crude humor, implied violence“Go Big or Go Home!”This was the first party to which Roland had been invited that the hostess was actively recruiting males to wear Scottish War Kilts and go to the bathroom and use her penile pump which was not necessarily cleaned between uses. While other parties Roland had visited enjoyed the limbo line, the spin-the-bottle game, he had never been commanded to expose his full exterior under the guiding light of a handheld laser pointer.Olivia was a Zoology major and said that major prim...

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Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

Submitted to Contest #295

My family comes from the hills of Tennessee. Actually, they come from the valleys between the hills. They came to the United States from Germany around 160 years ago after they left Schwerin, the capitol city for one of the districts in northern Germany. Grandpa always told me the location of the border after any given war determined which country Schwerin was in, but as I study history I’m learning he was probably misinformed. After they left Schwerin they came through Canada, choosing the overland route and pausing in Ontario for a time be...

9 likes 6 comments 6
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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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