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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

420+ East asian Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Discover the best new stories by East Asian authors.

East asian Short Stories – Page 2 of 29

Apocalpyse Crying

Submitted to Contest #294

Their horses are more nimble than leopards and swifter than wolves in the evening: their horsemen will spread out. And then their horsemen will approach from far away: they will fly like the eagle, hurrying to devour. Habakkuk 1:8 Lieutenant Paul Zimmerman clutched the side of his slick as it cut through the air towards destiny. Or at least that’s what Captain Murdock told him. He wasn’t sure that it was his destiny. He was here because he followed orders. The Army drilled that into his brain during basic training. Those orders meant that Pa...

12 likes 7 comments 7
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The Woman on the Train

Submitted to Contest #293

The train car trundled along steadily, only slowing for the occasional station. While clean, the age of the train was obvious. The wall panels were dark, lacquered wood, matching the floor and bench seats. Shelves with woven nets for luggage ran along the length on both sides. Spots along the handrails had been rubbed shiny over the years, nearly as shiny as the polished brass fittings adorning most surfaces. The rich red fabric of the bench cushions and backing had worn thin in places, and some of the cushions were flatter than others. A si...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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Left Behind in Fukushima

Submitted to Contest #293

I’m sitting on a coach bus at 7 a.m., staring out the window, scanning the streets for tourists. This isn’t where I thought I’d be. Not after graduating with a Master’s in International Relations, fluent in two languages, and ready to take on the world. But here I am.Outside, the street is quiet. I spot him—our last passenger, a foreigner in a blue T-shirt and shorts, looking as if he’s searching for something. I jump out of the bus, waving him over, holding my clipboard. It’s my way of taking control. A trick I learned from my manager.He ap...

44 likes 36 comments 36
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The Universal Obsession of Max Preensworthy

Submitted to Contest #291

This is the story of Max Preensworthy, a man addicted to exactly the same thing as you or I. I'll come back to that. First about Max: Max is almost 52, so his childhood is almost lost to him. His school teachers have forgotten him and he has no close friends. If cats lived longer, one would remember him. He remembers her.  It was England, 1973, Max was ten years old. Every morning he skirted Lister’s Farm to avoid the snapping sheepdogs, crossed a couple of empty fields, and walked along the back of a row of sandstone cottages to Chinsb...

32 likes 14 comments 14
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Asian Pears

Submitted to Contest #290

“Would you be interested in going back in time?” asked Dr Lee.That caught Mary’s attention. She snapped her gaze away from the window and, though she knew how impossible it would be, she eagerly responded, “What do you mean? How?”“Through your memories, of course,“ clarified Dr. Lee.Mary's brow furrowed. She crossed her arms, and leaned back into the sofa.  “Pffft, Dr. Lee, you’ve been my therapist for months now. You know how badly I wish I could go back in time. Please don’t taunt me like that.”“I’m sorry, that was never my inten...

9 likes 0 comments 0
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Shadows of Nagasaki

Submitted to Contest #290

The long, boring summer days stretched endlessly, each one blending into the next like the slow, languid waves kissing the beach shore. The heat in Tokyo was oppressive, a heavy blanket that smothered the city and its inhabitants. Keiko, ever resourceful, had fashioned paper fans for her three younger sisters. Their laughter and chatter filled the small, cozy home, a lively contrast to the muffled murmurs drifting from the kitchen. There, their mother sat, a newspaper clutched tightly in one hand and the corded telephone pressed to her ear, ...

5 likes 1 comment 1
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Praying for Tomorrow

Submitted to Contest #290

(Sensitive Content notes: mentions of weapons and death)            We carried her boat as we neared the Yalu River. The Chinese villager spoke to us in broken Korean. He would take Ji’s sick mother to the other side where she would be safe in China. Ever since the outbreak of Tuberculosis in North Korea, there had been a significant lack of treatment for his mother. She hugged her son because she knew she could not take him with her. Though she loved him very much and cared for him...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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The Tea Company Workers

Submitted to Contest #290

Nobody living outside the world understood how the residents of Sin SLAMPPEP, the world without love, existed. No rationale supported human existence there because there was no love there, which made life difficult to live in a world full of suicides. A mandatory funeral exposed a community's tragic loss from unacknowledged suicides. Money didn’t matter. Without hope and companionship, the government-supplied reproduction levels became mere test tubes in the laboratory of life. A relentless factory of reproduction, where each worker felt the...

14 likes 10 comments 10
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Clearpool

Submitted to Contest #289

It was stiflingly hot in the MV Clearpool’s aft hold. Situated just above the engine room, the smell of grease, diesel and sweat was overpowering. The four men worked quickly to secure the pallet and release the derrick hook from the net. As they looked up at the retreating cables, their upturned faces blinked in the tropical sun like startled cave dwellers. “Alright Stewy,” the Bosun nudged him in the ribs. Kristiono smiled weakly. Years at sea, physical work above and below decks had given his face a wan look to match his skinny frame. ‘St...

6 likes 0 comments 0
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The Sun Always Shines (Even When It’s Raining)

Submitted to Contest #288

Lyla's Her boots clicked against the old cobblestones – tap, tap, tap. The sound bounced between the buildings lining Main Street, those ancient brick beauties from back when people actually cared what things looked like. Not like the glass-and-steel boxes they were throwing up downtown these days. These buildings had stories etched into their walls, decades of city grime in their pores.God, she loved mornings like this. The sky stretched endless and blue above the old brick buildings, and somewhere nearby, coffee was brewing – that rich, bi...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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my land never changes

Submitted to Contest #288

u will know which country i am referring to ... ?keke ...the weather never changes here , hot and wet ... always , 366 days a year.. !Cost of living is high here ,the same shopping malls day in day out ,i am situated in Asia .salaries is low and costs are high ,low income environment and high costs environment ... kekethings are always expensive here ...we are crowded ...weather is hot and humid ...high rainfalls sometimes ....we have world class transportation ,we are very clean ...we are usually clean , the roads and public places ...we ar...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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This Thing so New and Nostalgic

Submitted to Contest #287

The waves are violent in Hokkaido. They leap up and smack the shore with a loud clack that shakes all the plates in their cupboards and the babies in their cradles. As a young child, Hinn saw the waves as a monster, growling and shrieking, droplets landing up against his window, trying to get in. He would wake up crying, the scent of Matcha already drifting into his room. He sat at the old kitchen table, sobbing turning to soft sniffling with the sound of his mother’s firm hands grinding tea leaves and sleep medication into a soft powder. Th...

5 likes 1 comment 1
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The Boatman

Submitted to Contest #288

The Boatman A dawn haze hung low over the Hooghly River, shrouding the lush countryside in a blanket of surreal calm. The imposing river, one of many Ganges tributaries, wove across the lowlands and flowed serenely toward the Bay of Bengal. A sonorous voice drifted across the water as a boatman, concealed within the morning mist, sang in Bhatiyali style. His song was one of devotion, love, or possibly loneliness, as he leisurely drifted downstream. On the bank of the river a man waited, scanning for the boatman. He fidgeted impatiently and ...

14 likes 2 comments 2
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Meng Po's Tea for Forgotten Memories

Submitted to Contest #287

Meng Po's Tea of Forgotten Memories Deity involved:​​ Meng Po (Grandma Meng), the Goddess who helps deceased souls to forget their past lives before reincarnation from Chinese mythology“You’re back again?” She stands on the banks of the river. Poppy flowers waver in the crispy wind. The souls of the deceased line up, their faces twisted into three-hundred-and-six types of emotions.  The woman standing in front of me is in her sixties. Her curly hair is dyed an auburn red, trendy for women her age. Well, she won’t look like this for...

3 likes 1 comment 1
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The Farewell

Submitted to Contest #287

       Konishi Sahei closed his ancient, grey eyes and inhaled deeply. The small room was suffused with the smell of chrysanthemum. He liked that; it reminded him of his younger days.        Opening his eyes once again, he became aware of the charcoal pit beside him. The water in the chagama – the traditional metal kettle used in the Japanese tea ceremony – had begun to simmer and sigh, and he listened to its gentle music. For a moment, he stu...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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