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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 3 of 23

The Man in the Maze

Submitted to Contest #269

One of the most powerful symbols to the Piipash (Maricopa) and  O’Odham (Pima) tribes of Arizona is the motif of “the man in the maze” The motif can best be described as a circular maze pattern, in which a small figure is standing at the opening of the maze. The significance of this symbol begins with firstly knowing the story in which the pattern was created. The man in the maze symbolizes the journey of life. Like all mazes, it takes time to figure out how to get to the center. The twists and turns and dead ends one face in ...

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The Guardian Object

Submitted to Contest #269

One night in July, 2051, Lima, Peru, lay beneath a mist. The streets were empty, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth. In a quiet neighborhood, Dr. Carlos Biltong sat alone in his study, his hands trembling slightly as he perused old Nazca texts. The words written centuries ago spoke of the Eternals, and the powerful object they guarded—an object known as the Guardian object.The clock struck midnight when he felt the temperature in the room drop sharply, making his breath visible. Carlos stood, his pulse quickening. He had believed tha...

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The message from my inner child

Submitted to Contest #268

I woke up agitated. My heart was pounding fast. The image from the dream stayed intact, refusing to fade away. A barefoot girl stood in the middle of a completely dark path, raising her hand and telling me, _  STOP, DON'T GO FURTHER!  I approached her slowly and saw her little face bathed in tears. To my surprise, I recognized her. It was me! It was my little girl… I ran to hug her and held her tightly against my chest... When I tried to lift her, the image faded, and I woke up with a scream. I sat in bed, my mind circling around t...

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The S-Bend

Submitted to Contest #267

NORTH TO THE S-BEND 'Hang on. Not right now,” the father said, as the S-Bend neared. The quiet white lines and glinting reflective pickets splayed wider apart. Dead ahead, no lights shone at the S-Bend Roadhouse, and a feathery drizzle fell. The road curved like a bow and slowed to 90 kilometres an hour – it swung in towards the Roadhouse, and then, gracefully loped away from it. A truck's headlights slowed and curved to mirror them on the other side of the southern S-Bend. Each driver seemed courteously aware of the other's hope to not...

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The Son of the Rain - A Story Based on a Wichí Mataco Myth" -

Submitted to Contest #267

The Son of the Rain - A Story Based on a Wichí Mataco Myth" - It was Yachup, the time of fruits and festivities for the indigenous peoples of the forests of the Chaco in northern Salta. During this time, young girls would adorn their hair with yellow tusca flowers and head to the carancho dance, celebrating under the moonlight until dawn.The village of Hosan, with its little huts, the wetes, was arranged in an imaginary circle, divided by an ancient taboo that marked the boundaries of the two main clans: the Nichaj, the people of the wi...

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Sagonige and the End

Submitted to Contest #267

Sagonige and the End “Again, I have failed. They won’t listen to me and the FBI has a warrant out for me that I’m a terrorist and the Homelands Cops intend  to put me in jail.” Sagonige sat in in the Circle of Elders. They had put up the healing smoke, prayed, sang the sacred songs, and were now ready to hear from her. Grandmother Bushyhead moved her chair closer to Sagonige and wrapped her arms around the tearful young woman. “This is not your fault, Granddaughter. They are too far gone. They have distanced the...

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Haven

Submitted to Contest #266

My characters suck and are so damn boring | I throw my fingers into the roots of my hair and pull. Hard. The palm of my right hand throbs from the pounding I just put into my desk–in perfect time with the cursor blinking at the end of my latest masterpiece, my truth in fiction. And the truth is that I am losing time, and that nothing I ever do is— Slurp. Sluuurp. Sluuuuurp. The final slurp is what gets me from questioning if the sound is in my head to knowing it’s right behind me. I spin in my chair until I’m facing Alex. I know he’s Alex, ...

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A Family Connection

Submitted to Contest #265

Marie sat on a plane. It wasn’t the first time she’d been on the long journey across the country. She traveled from Washington State to North Carolina four times a year to go to school. This time was different. She had a mission in mind.  A friend traveling through Chicago had stopped at the art museum and taken pictures to show her. Well, to Marie’s great surprise in the historical handcrafts section of the museum, there lay a blanket that she had buried her grandmother in. Shock took her.  She didn’t want to believe it at first, ...

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They Have Each Other

Submitted to Contest #264

Staring into the mirror, my only thought was, girl you look so damn good today. My wedding dress, yellow to signify the transition from childhood to adulthood, flowed down around my body, flaring out at the bottom. Dark hair, slightly curled, fell on my bare, olive tone shoulders. A flowered crown with an green base and small yellow flowers, that perfectly matched my dress, seemed to be the final touch that brought it all together. That woman in the mirror was mesmerizing.  “Zaagi!” My best friend snapped me out of my daydream with her ...

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A Celebration of Park Preservation

Submitted to Contest #264

And here we are, people...A young African American Male of 25 years old - who was intrigued and inspired by the historical rezoning of the city Paterson Great Falls by the way - was rehearsing his speech for Paterson Great Falls’ decade-and-a-half anniversary.  He was a National Park Ranger affiliated with the National Park Foundation, strutting back and forth in front of his apartment wall mirror. His goal was to perfect his tonality and facial expressions for the recognition speech. He was not only going to be speaking to a massive cr...

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The Signature Tree

Submitted to Contest #264

James was working his mill in the early morning chill, set up in a clearing cradled in the crook of two intersecting ridges. Millenia of colluvial deposits formed this broad, flat terrace that now nourished a forest of towering grey gum, white mahogany, stringybark and ironbark. Wildlife sounds usually filled the air in this glade above the gullies. Lyrebirds’ symphonies of masterful mimicry, territorial auditory archives of the forest, were indistinguishable from the original. The plaintive ‘kee’ squeals as red-tailed black cockatoos soared...

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The Shadow of Valour

Submitted to Contest #263

The wind blew through the city streets, and a sign announced to Hector Mares’s hologram that he was nearing a crossroads. There were gaps in the traffic but soon enough the lights changed and he navigated the cyber truck to the diner to meet Johnny Antunes. Antunes from the Canadian Spacetime Agency who was his contact.He walked into the diner and sat opposite Johnny and his girlfriend, who had brought a quilted backpack. He shook hands with both.He wants to work with us,’ said Johnny.“What do you need me for?” asked Mares.“We need you to de...

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The Hottest Day

Submitted to Contest #262

Ossie (a short form for his actual name) asks a question of his brother Mac (also a short form for his name): “Did you hear the weather report last night on the television? The weather woman declared that on Friday we will be experiencing a record breaking heatwave.”Mac replies. “Yes, I did. You could say that it will truly be a Frying Day. She declared that the high temperature would be 50 degrees Celsius or 122 Fahrenheit. Nobody in our community has ever experienced such a high temperature before. And what ar...

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I AM

Submitted to Contest #261

When I was in my late forties, the men I’d known since childhood began dying – one by one I lost all three of my uncles in a year and a half. Then, in one terrible week, a close childhood friend and my dad (my anchor) both succumbed to cancer. Unable to cope with the enormity of these losses, my mind went spiraling out of control. Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I felt caught up in the eye of a tornado. Everything and everyone seemed to be flying away from me, buffeted by the wind until I was left with only my paranoid psychotic delus...

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His Life

Submitted to Contest #260

I think we were always competitive until the day when we weren’t anymore. It was always chalked up to two cousins seeing who could get the best of the other, but in reality, we never were that close or particularly fond of each other. The times when we did do things together it was because of something our parents arranged or seeing each other at those family functions that no child wants to go to when they could be at home doing anything else. But eventually we all grow up, and we realized that if we focused our competitive n...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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