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

150+ Historical fiction Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Whether you’re looking to step back into ancient civilizations, the 19th-century, or anywhere in between, our collection of historical fiction stories is here to keep you riveted.

Historical fiction Short Stories – Page 6 of 10

Krasnaya Pod Davleniem (Кра́сная Под Давлением)

Submitted to Contest #304

Pressure biting on hull. Metal groan like lamenting of preachers outside Leningradsky railway terminal. Depth gauge: glowing green, like mould growing in brain. We are past safe. Long past. It does not matter.Silence down below. It is heavy. Not peaceful kind, like sleep. No. This kind, it sit on your chest like dying dog. It settle in your marrow, thick, like dirty oil. Become part of you. Each breath, like last sigh of world.No light. Only glow green from console. Three buttons: surface, hold, launch. That is all there is. That is all ther...

6 likes 2 comments 2
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Fever

Submitted to Contest #304

Fever Fever. Feel it in the air. Lawd! It's hot. Louisiana hot on a summer Saturday night. Not a breath of a breeze. Sultry. Like trying to inhale a sponge.Gossamer iridescent wings of dragonflies helicopter above clouds of gnats hanging low above the muddy waters of the wide Mississippi. Mosquitoes hatch and blacken the tall marsh grasses in the ditches still sodden with flood waters from the last downpour. Bullfrogs croak as if they are dying, poisonous snakes slither unseen, gators lie in wait with only their beady eyes peering above the ...

42 likes 36 comments 36
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The Unfinished Sonnet - Charles Baudelaire - August 31st, 1867

Submitted to Contest #304

Many years have passed since I have read the works of de Nerval or even thought of him. Today though, I walked home from an early breakfast at the café that’s run by an old Roma couple on the corner of my street. It was at a time when our labors had surpassed the successful career of Romanticism’s founding father to be deemed by academic institutions, literary reviews, and, most importantly, the informal conversations of the fine art’s aficionados as “all the rage of Paris.” Delacroix, where were you when he needed you? De Nerval had hair th...

7 likes 0 comments 0
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Ocean Singer of the Night - Voyages of the Destiny's Dreams

Submitted to Contest #304

"Labyrinths of the wild,Nature entwined,Ocean's stories,Beyond time and mind."The voice of Ocean Singer wafted over the ocean.The canvas sails of the boat gleamed in the lantern light, beneath the stars and moon.A new tale bubbled up from Ocean Singer's mind.Something different had been carved into him by his recent experiences. His stories took on new shapes.Now, each night he wandered the mystical sailing ship decks. In the darkness, more stories sparkled in the depths and essence of his being.His lost storytelling skill was coming back. S...

48 likes 16 comments 16
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A Message Through Time

Submitted to Contest #304

A Message Through Time By Cortlin PresleyMay 5, 800 A.D.Darkness veiled the world’s light beyond the slapping shutters. “Up, up! Time to greet the morning.”A groan emitted from the sheets.“Up, up!”The brown-haired, freckle-faced girl rose from her slumber. “Morning? What do you mean "morning"? It’s the middle of the night!”“Actually, Your Majesty, it’s the middle of the day.”Her voice shook with concern, “Lydia, what are you saying?”“I’m saying, Your Majesty, during last night’s battle, your kingdom was brutally burned. Until this rebellion ...

4 likes 0 comments 0
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Dream Within A Dream

Submitted to Contest #304

Content warning: This story contains themes of violence, historical trauma (slavery), and psychological horrorPenny, in her black frock coat and a copper ponytail dangling under her tricorn hat, sat in the bow of the Raven’s whaleboat as the crew rowed underneath the clipper’s bowsprit and raven figurehead and toward the foul-smelling brig motionless in the water ahead of her. Light from the bright full moon danced amid the rippling tidewater of the Chesapeake Bay.Boarding pike in hand, she ducked as the crew tossed a boarding net over the v...

5 likes 0 comments 0
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No One Wanted to Be a Hero

Submitted to Contest #304

No one wanted to be a hero. Not now, anyway. It was over, pretty much, or would be soon enough. That's what everyone was saying. That's what newspapers were saying; the last one most of them saw was yesterday's news two weeks ago. It was true. You could taste it. You could see it in the slouch of prisoners marching back; kids mostly, and old men. They looked more relieved than depressed, more exhausted than anything else. And all those white sheets hanging out of windows? Everyone knew.The Army was so sure it was over they assigned one GI fo...

12 likes 3 comments 3
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Willow-Boy, Weep for Me

Submitted to Contest #303

Once, after a beating, the boy’s mother tells him that he is a sadist. He didn't know the word at the time, but afterwards, he turns it around in his head. Sadist. He goes to his room and lies down, staring at the ceiling, painted brown by the previous owner. He imagines the word spelled out in blue ink over top of it, repeated in his mother’s handwriting, then his father’s, and then his. He always thought he had the prettiest print of the three of them, though he never said it. He knew the truth: handwriting was a weak skill for a white boy...

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Ida

Submitted to Contest #303

Ida’s gaze shifted back and forth between Lyle and Willy. Her face paled and her eyes widened. “What did you say Willy?” Her voice squeaked out as if she were in pain. “I just told Lyle that our Ma’s granny was a slave.”“Why would you tell him something like that!?”“So, a lot of people have negro blood in them, you are as white as I am.” Lyle said, he looked confused.“But you don’t understand, blacks aren’t allowed to mix with whites, if we have any ancestors that were slaves we are considered black.”“But you look white, like your mom was ...

11 likes 7 comments 7
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It Won't Mind the Fire

Submitted to Contest #303

SENSITIVE CONTENT - WAR RELATED TRAUMA AND DEATHPart 1 – Captain Charles MillerThey moved at dawn because that’s when an army moves best: when the light is clean, the air is cold, and men are quiet. No time for talking. No time for second thoughts. The road was soft from the night’s rain and the men cursed their boots, but they marched anyway, shoulders bowed, rifles at rest. The fields to their left were thick with tall, dying corn, dry enough to go up with a single torch. Captain Charles Miller rode ahead, coat unbuttoned, hat pulled low a...

16 likes 25 comments 25
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The Sparrow

Submitted to Contest #303

There was a sparrow, seated on the tree branch above me, the morning I gave her away. It watched with its black, beady eyes, judging, never blinking, as I hung the laundry on the line. Strangely, its presence caressed me when I heard her quiet, stifled crying escaping from her bedroom window."I can’t do anything,” I said to the sparrow, the breeze blowing the fabrics softly against my hands. It did not answer, only continued to stare, daring me to argue. I knew better not to.We, the sparrow, and I, were outside for a long while that morning,...

8 likes 5 comments 5
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A Pair of Blue Eyes

Submitted to Contest #303

Ivy is seventeen the first time she sees Alec. She and Renee have finished their shift at the cotton mill and are walking home together when they see the crowd of people gathered round a man on a stool in the park. They stop to watch, and Renee lets out a giggle. “He’s having his hair cut, Ivy! Look!” Sure enough, the large gentleman on the stool is having his hair snipped away by a dashing young man with shiny scissors and the bluest eyes Ivy’s ever seen. With a flourish, the young man finishes his handiwork and then produces a little brush...

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Dark Storms, Dark Secrets, Dark Love

Submitted to Contest #303

Chicago. Jack’s town. The night swirled around him, a steady drip of rain covering his footsteps as he followed his latest quarry. Distantly a dog barked, a cat yowled, and the sounds of a sailor and his girl in the alleyway greeted his ears after the screeching of the “L” had deposited Jack and his objective both on this street. Jack was recruited into the Office of Strategic Services, the OSS, to be a spy hunter. They needed someone to ferret out Nazi spies in the Windy City, and Jack grew up here, so it was fortunate for him that they sen...

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Widowing

Submitted to Contest #303

A bit of this, a bit of that, pluck and grind and shake about. Hug the bowl between my palms, bring it up and sniff, place it back on the table with a thud. Once more. And again. Seven thuds for the seven days the monster has left to live. That part of the ritual is no alchemy; it is not magic, either. It’s the power of my own superstition that completes the potion-making dance, and once the herbs are nicely tucked in a little pouch, I stuff it in the hidden pocket of my dress. Safer not to let it lie about.The girl comes just before noon, a...

9 likes 7 comments 7
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Two Lies

Submitted to Contest #303

“The decision will be made tomorrow. As of now, this meeting has officially concluded.” Chairs scraped the ground as they were pulled out from the tables cluttering the throne room. Nobles clapped and cheered, whispering among themselves about the coming decision. The Queen was going to rule that all from the Lower Isles were to follow martial law. Every hearing under the suffocating lights of the chandelier agreed, every aristocrat in the room chanting for the peons to be controlled and silenced. I knew it would be so; it is why I spent my ...

9 likes 0 comments 0
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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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