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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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 20 of 23

The Boy

Submitted to Contest #80

It wasn't long enough until the next time that little Ben met his companion, by the countryside. He was all of 9 years old but had the maturity of a 13 years old teenager. His father had been promoted to the position of a Commandant by the Nazi Administration which caused Ben's family to move to Auschwitz from their humble establishment in Ireland. Ben's mother, did not approve of this step knowing well about the atrocities which were a product of her husband's army. She chose to move back to Ireland with Ben's little sister-a strong move th...

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Black Dreaming

Submitted to Contest #80

  Content warning: abuse My story is called “Black Dreaming”. I have written it in verse. I apologise if it upsets you in anyway.    Poem/chapter 1 – “The Beginning” Once upon a nightmare, Its ghastly scenes too cruel. The tale I will tell you Is very far from cool.   Our story does begin, On a day like any other. A young girl explores the world Guided by her mother.   Blue skies above Red earth below Everything as it should be, Till cold winds began to blow.   Unknown voices could be heard, Echoing all aro...

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An Emulative and Aplomb Corruption-Annihilator Revolutionary

Submitted to Contest #80

Kisan Baburao Hazare known as Anna Hazare (born 15 June 1937) is an Indian social activist. He is known for developing a village called Ralegaon Siddhi in India. He played a large part in the 2011 Indian anti-corruption movement. He has served in the Indian Army. He won the third highest award in India, the Padma Bhushan.In April 2011, he started an indefinite hunger strike to pressurize the Indian Government to accept his demands on corruption. The Government ac...

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Riding Without Training Wheels

Submitted to Contest #79

There’s a quote by Michel de Montaigne, “A man is not hurt so much by what happens, as by his own opinion of what happens.” My uncle would tell me this all the time and I always held it in high regard because of him, though it’s a quote from my grandpa that echoes in me. “It’s not the sound of the bat that gets you; it’s the ball that you can’t stop that’ll hurt you.” As long as I could remember, on a clear blue sky day I would stop and lie down to look up at the beauty of God’s creation. I would lie on the grass, porch, or where ever and ju...

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It Only Happens in Comics

Submitted to Contest #80

 Today, I was meant to go out to the local pond and fish with Brother Zeke. I had begged mum and pulled at her blue, floral bloomers just to ensure that my plans were secure.  I had sat on the edge of the pond, rubbing my stubby fingers through the algae, Mama told me it was magic leaves who'd argued and got stuck together. I had always believed in that story, I believed in so many things. Then came the day I found out that the magic leaves were just fungi, that the pond was just a polluted cesspool. I grew up that day becaus...

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Tunnel Vision

Submitted to Contest #80

As soon as I saw the tunnel, I knew that it just had to be mine.I knew why and wherefore I wanted it – I knew I would even sell my tiara to obtain enough funds, if I had to. But of course, I wouldn’t have to. Of course not.My mother had always told me about “the light at the end of the tunnels” and she was being her usual ambiguous self. Yet, here it was, in Glorious Technicolor – or as much as an underground tunnel could be thus – and it was what I had visualised all my life.You know those Road Runner cartoons, where a lightbulb switches on...

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Water Is Thicker Than Blood

Submitted to Contest #79

Keziah stood by the cooker motionless. She was making some porridge for her mother. If you could see her, you could tell that her mind was far. But dutifully she stirred the pot and with every motion of the spoon in the liquid her mind teleported to a time when betrayal was a word in the dictionary, and she hadn’t looked it up.  When she was 14 years old, she had a crush. Unlike most of the young girls in the village, Keziah had not yet experienced that pit in the stomach that one gets when they spot a charming boy. Yet during the Summe...

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Bridged Gap

Submitted to Contest #79

An elderly Navajo man stepped out of his black Lincoln. He reached for a worn wooden cane and slammed the door shut. He was invited by his son to come to his house for a chat. They hadn't seen each other since he left for the Marines. The old man inched his way toward a sun yellow Spanish colonial house at the end of the block, the one with a cherry red 1970 Dodge Challenger and the flagpole on the lawn, adorned with the Stars and Stripes at the top, the New Mexico state flag below that and the US Marine Corps flag below that one. Inch by in...

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Monsoon Season

Submitted to Contest #79

Laurie Lonewolf rubs her thumb over a text message she received from a stranger only hours before. It reads, “Hi Laurie. You probably don’t remember me, but this is your dad. Can we meet?”  This is your dad.  Laurie’s fingers grew numb at the words. What? Dad? Why now? Why not say father? Wouldn’t that be more appropriate considering ‘dads’ stick around? But something in Laurie’s chest broke free, and she couldn’t help but touch a color she hadn’t felt since childhood. It was hope.  “Don’t expect anything,” Laurie’s best fr...

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Shackles

Submitted to Contest #79

The jubilation and ecstasy that ate the thread and fabric of Koyo Village couldn’t be explained by mere words of mouth. Songs of joy and musical instruments were heard and echoed all through the land. Nkosi, a daughter of the soil was tying the nuptial knot to Mano; the only son of the richest and most famous business man of the whole region. In a very fancy and loud way, the two communities of Koyo and Nami gathered in joy to celebrate this union. Nkosi was the perfect bride for Mano, but nine months into the marriage, it seemed like marr...

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My Sister Jenny

Submitted to Contest #79

My sister Jenny has been envious of me ever since she found out I was going to be existing in her presence.She was the only child for 7 years before I came.Since she was the FIRST & ONLY child at one point my parents treated her like a princess.Brought her anything she wanted.She was involved in all of the extracurricular activities such as plays, ballet, singing, sports & much much more.But then one day my parents decided to have another child.they felt as though Jenny was bored with being the only child & that maybe it was time...

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Burned and buried

Submitted to Contest #79

Final autumn leaves grind beneath her dusty feet. Her bouncy hair pumped vitality in an frizzy manner as she hobbled towards the garden to pluck freshly matured roses. The sky wasn’t a plain yellow expanse like it used to be in her preferred times; the sky was now a profuse of soluble shades. Brought up by a single mother, Reya outgrew from the last civilization of the era and struggled to sustain in the more modern world. Her mother who had, in the past, lived in regional groups when the culture of multiple mating partners existed, ironic...

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Hawaiian Mall Magic

Submitted to Contest #78

"Geocaching knows no gender, no race, or economic status," I declare to my pandemic bubble friend Fujimi as I squat to enter the same weed-webbed area for about the fifteenth time in about thirty minutes. "And to think it only requires one tool: a Garmin or a smartphone.""It still seems sort of… arbitrary," Fujimi says. She’s beaming the flashlight into the bushes like I told her to. I know she’s bored, but I have to show her the joy of finding a cleverly hidden mini-vial amidst fifty feet of shrubbery that borders the eastern side of the Pr...

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Disconnected

Submitted to Contest #78

In the neighbourhood, she was our heroine and was pretty much contemporary than her contemporaries. As kids, we would gather around her, sometimes, danced to the rhythm that emanated from her finger-work on the keyboard. How long we enjoyed what was music to us depended on the mood Osamulu's mum was. On a bad day, the fiery look on her face put us away; we needed no prophet to tell us we were unwanted guests. Every African child could discern that. It was part of a homely requisite training where non-verbal communication like facial expressi...

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Snow Night

Submitted to Contest #77

Wynn was nocturnal. There was no explaining it, there was no changing it, it's just the way he was. His internal clock was rewound so that he stayed awake during the night, and slept all day. Which meant there were so many things kids his age experienced that he'd only ever heard of in the past tense. As his alarm woke him up bright and early at 7:00pm, he pulled back the black velvet curtains to see a familiar sight. It was as if the thick white oceans had engulfed the entire monochrome neighborhood. Ice crystals hung from power lines, br...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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