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

340+ Indigenous Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. From folklores to modern tales of native people’s struggle to be heard, our indigenous stories have something for everyone.

Indigenous Short Stories – Page 19 of 23

Guaiya

Submitted to Contest #83

The frothy comfort of the waves rolling off the reef cooled my bare feet as my eyes careened to the horizon. The familiar vastness of the Pacific Ocean stared back at me, its numerous tiny crests twinkling in the sun. “Hanna,” I heard my husband call out. “Are you ready?” No, I sighed to myself. I’ll never quite be ready. His voice grew closer, and I heard his feet sliding in the sand. “The kids are all strapped in and ready to go.” Without tearing my eyes away from the water, I reached my hand behind me, searching for him. “Stand with ...

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Tears of The Great Mother of the Water and The Great Father of the Water

Submitted to Contest #83

The children are all seated around the Great Mother, as the fire crackles and burns. Stars glimmer brightly in the sky. Nearby, the rush of water from the falls roars into the vast ocean, which laps it up eagerly, then spits it back up onto the rocky shore. The wind whistles in the palm trees. The village huts are glowing softly from candle light. The pigs are all settling down in their pens for the night and snuffling. The smell of smoke from the great fire and all the home hearths fill the night air. “Tell us the story, Great Mother,” say...

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Ani of Awaq

Submitted to Contest #83

The bombs were off in the distance, but they lit up the sky. On a small island like Awaq any large disturbance could be seen for miles. Ani scrambled up the rough rocky cliff side, determined to get to safety, and to get to her family. She reasoned that this all must be from recent rumors. Maybe the events that had taken place were worse then said. A few days prior Anis��� best friend Beau told her that the small resort located on the east beach was caught dealing drugs. Ani had been shocked since most of the Awaq people worked there, inclu...

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The Merrow: An Irish Fable

Submitted to Contest #83

Liam looked out over the calm sea and prepared his nets for the day ahead; the skies looked promising except for some gray, low hanging clouds far out to sea. “Aye, let this be a good day,” he muttered, “My press is as empty as a scoundrel’s heart.” “Mother,” he looked skyward “could ye see fit to bring me a wee bit of good luck today?” He often spoke thus to his beloved mother who had sung to him as a boy and told wonderful stories of Irish folklore. He was particularly fond of those tales which spoke of the merrow and morgens, enchanted ...

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A Shared Compass

Submitted to Contest #81

First thing first, as a well experience dater, I have learned a few things; one being just each day, even if you have been on many dates (whether with the same person or different persons) there’s always the chance of something new to happen, two being just like the weather just because it says it’ll be sunny doesn’t mean rain can’t come, so always be prepared, and three being always pack light. To further explain three this really pertains to first dates/meetings, don’t expect a lot and keep it breezy. Three was where I was at when I and my...

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Sitting On The Bench of History

Submitted to Contest #80

The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act is a United States federal law that wan enacted on November 16, 1990, by George Bush. This Act requires that any federal agencies and institutions that receive federal funding to return Native American “cultural items” to lineal descendants and culturally affiliated Indian tribes and Native Hawaiian. This Act allowed many Native peoples to be able to regain parts of their culture that at one time seemed to be lost forever. While many involved in Museums were hesitant at having to do ...

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The Tale of Tears

Submitted to Contest #80

Though I am young, I am old enough to know that we are being wronged. I have seen more pain in these last few months than I have all my life. Even though my people, the Cherokee, have been on the move for three months, it feels as if our departure from our home was only yesterday.The United States Army soldiers came at the break of dawn, pointing their rifles at those who refused to give up the land. Chaos broke among us. Half of the tribe hesitated, yet accepted the orders while the other half refused in rebellion. The Cherokees who re...

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Live In the Moment

Submitted to Contest #80

Note: their is a glossary at the end that contains the translation of the words with a (*). Those words were originally used by the Cherokee tribe.*Sidanelv Day,I’ve finally convinced myself to write down my thoughts on paper, so here I am. I’ve also made a friend, but I'll talk about him later. First things first, I’ll begin with a solid introduction of my sidanelv.I have one witty brother, a loving mother, and a fearless father. The four of us are part of the Shoshone tribe; there is plenty of food to go around and the weather is good. Eac...

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Finding Purpose

Submitted to Contest #80

He stands with the quiet dignity of his seventy-five years, eyes glazed with unshed tears as his son’s F-5 fighter jet screeches across the clear blue skies of this small village. Within the fleeting seconds in which all eyes are glued upwards, hands covering the ears, the jet is done “saluting” him and is cruising northwards back to the air base. For this family's Independence Day in June, 2001, this is a double celebration of the national holiday as well as the family heroes, Muhia and his son Captain Kamiti of the Kenya Air Force. Ha...

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The Deal

Submitted to Contest #80

Our grandfather is not known for story telling he is just a man that likes given order and never expected to take one from any. Anyways that was the unique thing grandpa is always ready for war as he put on a warring outlook at any point in time. One night he decided to tell us a story not just because he feels like but because occasion demands for such. Grandpa began his story like this" History doesn't have to repeat itself what is cooking now has been cooked some years ago and the dish wasn't palatable at all and the aroma riched all walk...

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Before They Ruled Us

Submitted to Contest #80

They look like us.If you can ignore that their skin appears in the ‘wrong’ colour. So I heard Mama whisper at night. I don’t mind it. Their colour looks a lot like milk. Their skin looks it too, fragile. Like when it turns a furious red where it remains exposed to the sun. But they have eyes like we do even though the colour of their eyes is different, a nose like we do…even teeth like ours and it seems they use all of those parts the same we do. Mama will not listen to this logic. She calls them all sort of unseemly names but no one will li...

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Social Day

Submitted to Contest #80

He keeps himself and all of his extremities held within the imagined border that’s drawn around him. It’s safe in his box. When he’s still, he’s even able to block out the sounds around him. But today is his social day, and on the noisy admissions line at the museum, he can’t keep anything out. Not the jostling or the coat-to-jacket contact he keeps feeling or the echoed sounds of voices bouncing around the room. Finally, he pays his entrance fees and moves into the great open atrium, contained in which is a gargantuan, mint-condition, army ...

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We Have Stolen Bodies

Submitted to Contest #80

We Have Stolen Bodies Tatiana Fox, Feb 2021 I went to the history museum for the exhibit on the era of colonial and Native American conflict during the settlement and expansion into the Mid-Atlantic. It was supposed to focus on first-hand accounts of the time period of kidnappings and micro-treatises between small settlements of both European settlers and the local tribal villages, including peoples like the Shawnee and the Delaware. As an archaeologist who works in the Mid-Atlantic region, this period we call the Proto-Historic, or Contac...

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War is not an option

Submitted to Contest #80

           Emeka travelled to his hometown for a visit. It’s been a while since he visited. His grandfather was so happy to see him, to spend time with him. Being an active member of the IPOB (Indigenous People Of Biafra) Emeka and his grandfather Chief Obiora had a lot in common being that he fought in the Biafran war. They discussed how to improve the lives of the Igbo people. From the government to the people. One day, his grandfather overheard him speaking with his friend on the phon...

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Unreconciled

Submitted to Contest #80

“That’ll be $47.29, sir. Thank you for visiting The Manitoba Museum, and make sure to check out our Nonsuch exhibition! It’s really something.” The teller slid over the admission tickets, one adult and two children passes, as Animkii paid. “Thank you, we’ll try to,” Animkii smiled. He led his twin niece and nephew into the museum, checking over his shoulder frequently to make sure they were still within eyeshot. Lily had pulled out her phone and was taking pictures of everything they’d passed so far indiscriminately: the Palaeolithic er...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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