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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

150+ Fantasy Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Though fantasy is well known for its epically long sagas, fantasy short stories can deliver all the genre’s best attractions with one punch — or, shall we say, in one fiery dragon breath?

Fantasy Short Stories – Page 8 of 10

A Fortuitous Encounter

Submitted to Contest #307

George leaned heavily on the railing, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water stretching before him. The ocean glittered faintly as the sun tried to pierce through a thin veil of morning haze. The view truly was remarkable—a panorama that could inspire awe on any other day. But today, the tumult of emotions swirling within George rendered him impervious to its beauty. His mind churned, insulated from any sense of wonder. Below, the main deck was coming alive with activity. People wandered about leisurely, their movements unhurried as the...

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To Remember, To Live

Submitted to Contest #306

note: story includes multiple deaths and cursing To Remember, To Liveby: Asher Romero MoeckliThe candle bore her name. A remembrance to who she was, and to how she had loved. Vincent stared down at it, watching the flame flicker in the rain. Vera was too strong to be brought down by a little rain, Vincent knew. Suddenly Vincent collapsed, his knees hitting the dirt beneath him and the man in gold’s sword clattered the ground beside him. He let himself crumble, simply unwilling to pick himself up again. He lay in the rain, letting it land on...

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When the Flesh Cries Back

Submitted to Contest #307

The young woman scratches her short nails against the bandages in quick succession. Her chocolate eyes scan the estate eight times as simpleton transports her possessions around for her. She notes that the house appears plucked straight from Transylvania’s Gothic era. However, she knows Canada didn’t have its first European settlers for another three centuries.The woman’s left eye slightly twitches as they holds her scientific equipment with little to no care. The prices for the pre-order alone are more than enough to pay their annual salary...

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He Dies On Turn 12

Submitted to Contest #306

Every 100 years, the Demon King rises from his dark slumber, and a Hero of Legend is chosen. Who they are is not important, what matters is that they answer the call when fate shines upon them. This time the duty fell upon the Prince. His kingdom was overjoyed, but his family was crestfallen, for the Prince no longer belonged to them, but to the world and forces beyond it. A week before the Prince’s induction, his brother fled into the night without a word. For his induction, the Prince was given the armor and blade of the heroes before him...

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SOULSWAP™: Starter Kit for the Existentially Restless or Just Simply Curious

Submitted to Contest #306

I told myself I wasn’t going to cry as I grabbed a new box of Kleenex. My Jeramie was off to college with his Boho girlfriend in her rusty VW bug. Our Suburu station wagon had tons of room but they needed to do it their way, unencumbered by the baggage of the youth they were in a hurry to outgrow. As I try for one final hug, Bethany yells something about the window being stuck. She lights a joint and smoke fills the Beetle as they flee their childhoods. Jees. They couldn’t wait till they were down the driveway? I wave till my carpel tunnel s...

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From the Mind of Amir Hassan: The Secret of How it Started

Submitted to Contest #306

From the Mind of Amir Hassan: The Secret of How it Started Saturday, March 14thIt all started when the one called Infectedcuticle egged Margot to leave the apartment and go feed the cats. They had donated $80 to the cause, so it wasn’t completely off to request, but that didn’t make my night any easier. Now, Margot, she loves cats. Really she does. Sometimes too much. This was what she did while she was out. She fed some cats. Sat down to catch her breath. Cupped a cat toward her body for a snuggle and was bitten by that cat. I cleaned the w...

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Save Two

Submitted to Contest #306

The breeze swept the whisperings of the woods down the dewy stone lanes the same way it had for countless lifetimes. All living things had taken to a rhythm shaped in silence, worn smooth by the turning of many seasons. That was just how Rustlyn had been since the very beginning.Olivia woke before the sun. It was a regular Tuesday, but days barely matter for every one of them had been the same as long as anyone could remember. The dark held steady in the windowpane as if waiting for her to give it permission to fade. The hearth was cold. She...

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Numb

Submitted to Contest #307

A choking smog hung over the desolate land, obscuring it like a distant, hazy memory. Towering skeletons of rusted iron and shattered concrete loomed like silent sentinels; their surfaces thick with the dust of long-dead dreams. Tucked among the gnarled, dying roots of what had once been a mighty tree, the teddy bear sat slumped in silence. His fur, patchy and stiff with age, clung to him in tangled tufts. Threads poked from crooked seams like old scars that had never quite healed. He looked less like a toy and more like something forgotten—...

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Together We Burn

Submitted to Contest #306

Entry #1March 3rd, 2024 – 2:47 a.m. I wasn’t going to write about him again.But he’s the only thing on my mind. Again. Two years, two weeks, five days.1138 fights, 334 ignored messages, 4 breakups.And still counting. He calls me annoying. I call him frustrating.But we’re still here. Still burning. Society calls it toxic.But society doesn’t sleep in his arms when the rain won’t stop.They don’t know the smell of tulips soaked into a Pandora bottle.The way he whispers my name like a promiseEven when he just finished yelling. They don’t see the ...

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Grandma Lena’s cookies for the woeful

Submitted to Contest #306

**TRIGGER WARNING: Fiction containing gore, death, macabre, self harm** Grandma Lena’s cookies for the woefulA culinary heirloom, as written down by Lena D. – grandmother, mother, daughter and, above all, wife. Ingredients400 grams flour, type 000300 grams white chocolate270 grams cemetery soil250 grams butter, room temperature250 grams sugar, white7 grams baking powder3 eggs1 candle, yellow, beeswax – in emergencies, can be replaced with nutmeg2 teaspoons vanilla extract1 teaspoon lemon extractzest from one lemon and one orangeone red skirt...

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The Wagon Guard

Submitted to Contest #306

To the woman who raised me, Thank you for teaching me how to speak, understand, write, and read. For that, my dashing good looks, the homecooked meals (which will be sorely missed), and too many other things to list, I will be forever grateful. So grateful, in fact, that I have succumb to your beggings and decisively put my quill to the parchment. I hope when you come to read my words they do not bore you to the tears I fear they will. P.S. The Wagon Guard is not the name I would have given my journal, nor what I would have embroidered up...

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Come What May

Submitted to Contest #307

They come to the village at sunset, the bard and her companion. The bard is a white-haired woman with a warm voice, Tecima; she's broad-shouldered, strong, ready to laugh, and it's obvious that she wields her guitar as easily as the long knife on her belt. She offers to sing and to share news for supper, and the village immediately agrees. They're a bit away from the traditional trading pathways, and both news and songs are always hard to come by. Maryam's father is in charge of the food stores and festivities, and Maryam always lurks when...

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Journal of Lucy Scott

Submitted to Contest #306

Journal of Lucy Scott – YEAR UNKNOWN June 8I arrived at the cabin this afternoon. The drive was the same but different. The large rock at the turnoff was still there, but it was covered in moss, and the thorny brambles were covering most of it. The little general store was still open, but the cheery store owner, who was always out sweeping the porch, was old and grey and had an air of bitter regret. His usual friendly 'Thank you' was now a mumbled grunt of acknowledgment as I purchased the basics for the weekend. Even though age had taken i...

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The Scrollery

Submitted to Contest #307

Junior Archivist Matzen Bellus sighed, the sound barely audible above the restless murmur of the scriptorium. He sat alone, fingers stained red with Liturgical Ink, surrounded by texts that whispered ceaselessly—begging to be copied, to be reborn on fresh waxen parchment. He had been practicing vocabulary, carefully etching the seventeen strokes required to form the rune for “Consecration.”When his father had delivered him to the Scrollery as a fresh-faced Scriptus Penitent, Bellus hadn’t known what awaited him beyond the wrought-bronze gate...

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Rhiannon

Submitted to Contest #307

RhiannonTo the one who finds this book and reads this letter: Hawthorne already told you my first name, so I won’t repeat it. My surname’s Gethin. My father wanted to name me ‘Eleanor’, after his favourite aunt, but my mother insisted on naming me after a Celtic goddess of wisdom and horses. I’ve no idea why. Mom never rode a horse in her life, didn’t speak Welsh or Gaelic, never read any of the four branches of the Mabinogion, and was never a Fleetwood Mac fan. The name was mine long before Stevie Nicks wrote that song. I don’t ‘ring like a...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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