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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.

3280+ 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 94 of 219

Dancing on the Bones

Submitted to Contest #157

Lillian and Herb leaned over their third-floor balcony and admired the iconic sight of Diamond Head on the coast two miles west of their hotel.  Herb said, “Well, there it is.” Lillian said,” Looks just that scene in the intro of Hawaii Five-O.” Their hotel was an Outrigger- classy, with modern tiki décor. The front desk greeters and staff were as nice as Canadians. The ocean beyond the beach below was swimming pool blue, sparkling with sun-pricks and sooo inviting. “I’m dying to go for a swim,” said Lilian, turning away ...

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What a Night to Go Dancing

Submitted to Contest #158

Ned’s was the only bar in town that played music good enough to dance to. There was the Kensington downtown, but they only boasted a piano player who acted as background noise for diners.Ned’s was nothing to write home about, and occasionally there was a suspicious character or two, but generally it provided a place for the local couples to go and press up against each other.It was just outside the main drag of town. Far enough to be respectable but close enough that driving home a bit tipsy wouldn’t be an issue.Charlie had decided he wanted...

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I Wake

Submitted to Contest #156

I wake. Dim, hazy, featureless nothing. I blink. A bar. Light comes from somewhere above or around. Dim, warm, yellow. Cheap. I grimace. A man. He nods to me. Me? My drink. “Another?” I look down. Empty. I look up. I smile. Something of a smile. “One more.” He nods. He turns. He pours. He returns. He nods. I nod. I drink. “You always drink the cheap stuff?” I laugh. Something of a laugh. “Sure. Why not?” He shrugs. “Cause it’s shit.” I laugh. More of a laugh. I shrug. I smile. More of a smile. “Buddy. Everything’s shit.” He laug...

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Eva and Earl

Submitted to Contest #157

Peter gazed upwards at the golden maiden in front of Pembroke Arch. It was habitual. He dare not set his eyes on the girl's ascent into his horse drawn carriage on the way to her class. Hooves clop along the bright sunny yellow leafed path until they halt for the girl's exit. The autumn trees of red hold Peter's attention as the youth strolls off toward the building of grey stones. He wonders what spirits Sarah will be in. As he turns the corner he spots Sarah down the road. Slouched over a cement pillar in front of the house her brothers...

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The virtuous cycle

Submitted to Contest #156

A group of men, masked by night, run out into the mud. They step over dead bodies and follow the sound of a voice screaming for help. They find him on the floor, unable to move having been hobbled by a bullet. The stretcher bears share a look and kneel down to place the man onto the stretcher. “3. 2. 1.” The man counts as they both ready themselves to lift him up. They steal back into the night as best the can while bearing his weight, hoping the other side honours the unspoken rule that medical staff aren’t to be shot at. Of course they kno...

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Visitor

Submitted to Contest #156

Visitor ‘Don’t you remember.’ Some one at the part says to me, which I struggle to come up with an answer, and then the whole events come to me. He was the weedy guy from Steve’s party, skinny with tight jeans. Funny to think of the lack of bum curve that was part of those back pockets. Why is it that guys think ill fitting pants with a crouch hanging down is attractive? Based on that assumption this bloke was a trend setter, with jeans that clung to his butt, either that or this guy’s been out of circulation a few style changes. More than ...

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The anti-mirror from Stalin's secret bedroom

Submitted to Contest #156

The anti-mirror from Stalin's secret bedroom     The wrought-iron gates of the British Embassy in Moscow opened slowly and quietly, giving way to the four-wheeled "monster" - ZIL KARATEL Ansyr (ZIL PUNISHER Anti-Gradient) - belonging to Russian special armed forces. The military vehicle turned right, towards the New Arbat, going parallel to the bank of the Moscow River. Inside it, which looked like a spaceship, not as a land vehicle, were four people.     In the front seat, to the right of the driver (a li...

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189 Downing Street, Little Windsor, Sutton.

Submitted to Contest #155

This story contains sensitive content including mild language, violence, and abuse. July 18, 1814Dearest Domonique, Being my most trusted and longest-lasting friend, I thought it necessary to document the events of the happenings here at the estate of Bancroft. Let not cloudiness or muddle headedness interfere with the truth of such events. I would find it unarguable that the “good news” is the easiest to divulge, given most circumstances. The good news, in short, is I am finally free of the wretched company of the Duke of Dradevow, Sir...

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Out of Time

Submitted to Contest #154

This is a speculative fiction piece regarding the recent mass shooting at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. Out of respect for all involved, names have either been ommited, switched or changed. This material is sensitive and may be triggering to some readers. Discretion is recommended. www.lessquestionablenewssource.comOut of Time: The Story of Xavier CuevasBy Hash TaggertIf this is a story about time, we’re out of it.Xavier Cuevas was out of time the day he was shot and killed by law enforcement officers at an Uvalde, Texas elementary ...

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Antientropic Artifact: Plastic Doll's Head, Found Third Millennium B. C. E.

Submitted to Contest #154

              Neela was getting bored watching the pigs when she looked down and saw lying against a stone, a thing with colors different from any she had ever seen. She hesitated; new things could be dangerous. It seemed harmless. It didn’t move and looked soft and smooth.             Neela bent down and closed her left fist around it. She straightened up and brought it near her face to examine it more closely. I...

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Old Fishermen Never Die

Shortlisted for Contest #154 ⭐️

Cold salt water laps the beach, baptizing the goose tongue and goldenrod with spray. It stings my hands in places that have met with sharp rock and lobster claws: a good clean sting like ointment. The motorboat I moor onshore sputters to life. I am soaked with sea and fog before I have even reached the Pemaquid, tied further out so as not to run its keel aground. The lobster traps clank as I push past them to the engine. I wince at the high-pitched squeal, a testament to its manufacture date. The orange rubber overalls transform me into a be...

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The Traversers

Submitted to Contest #154

Somewhere over the Atlantic, 1745.       Captain Hale was found freshly dead in his quarters early Monday morning, and before the sun had even reached its peak everyone on the Consolata was believing something different. Hanged himself with his belt, said one. No, the decision was made with a bullet, said another. Yet more theories floated about. Gazes slid to and fro, searching for a too-shifty eye or a too-quick breath. Ellis was the one who discovered the corpse. He’d cracked the door open, thro...

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Black Orchid

Submitted to Contest #154

My family was once wealthy. Or so I was told. Great heroes that protected the land from evil. Favor of the emperor and all that. Spent on booze and extravagant parties. Eventually I guess the royals got sick of us. My mother certainly did. Packed her bags and left in the night, never to be seen again. Father was barely effected by her leaving. I suppose he was too drunk or hungover at the time. I'd always thought I could be the hero to restore the family's honor. That if I was given a chance and our family heirlooms I could travel the land a...

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The Diamond's Curse

Submitted to Contest #154

[Very VERY loosely based on an old tale, mostly fiction.] The Diamond's Curse I'm not nearly as dangerous as the humans believe me to be. Well, not usually. Humans are fools for mysteries and conspiracies, I have learned. I've spent many years near them and I know they'll believe anything. Just like lambs, they will follow any keeper they first lay eyes on. Humans are very easily manipulated. A sad but important truth. You might know me, or know of me. My early history was long and arduous. A long story for another time, perhaps....

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Musket on the Ledge

Submitted to Contest #154

I think I woke up around midday. I was prostrate in the grass, blowing as hard as I could through my nostrils. I must have sounded like an angry bull, but I couldn’t get rid of that damned smell. When I say ‘damned’ smell, I am not being unnecessarily crass. This was a smell only the Devil himself could produce. Dead bodies and gun smoke… more than I thought possible. I was far from the battlefield, as far away as my legs were able to carry me. Still, the Damned Smell lingered.  Would there be anyone searching for me? The General thoug...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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