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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

6140+ Inspirational Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. From tales of the miraculous to stories of extraordinary people overcoming incredible odds, you’ll always find something uplifting in our collection of inspirational short stories.

Inspirational Short Stories – Page 2 of 410

The last words

Submitted to Contest #304

"Oh Allah, if you grant me the chance to make it through with writing, because I know nothing else... I swear I’ll work hard. Really hard."Those were the first words Ali ever wrote, scribbled on the back of a letter to his parents when he was eight. He had just read a folk tale from an old schoolbook, and that day, he discovered something magical: words could heal and will set him free. From that day on, he never stopped writing — in his head, on scrap paper, in worn-out notebooks, even on walls if needed. Everything was a story waiting to b...

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You must type at least 1,000 words

Submitted to Contest #304

“The first challenge every pro writer must face is deadlines,” After class, Professor Markle put an inbox in the assignment tab and a description. “The most common excuse I here from aspiring writers who never have anything on their paper is that they don’t have the time. Between classes, supporting the family, a full-time job and kids, I can’t make it happen every day. I had all of these things before I was 30, and I made it happen.” Here he goes again with the gloating. “This assignment is a contest. Write a short story about a time, real ...

6 likes 0 comments 0
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You must type at least 1,000 words

Submitted to Contest #304

“The first challenge every pro writer must face is deadlines,”After class, Professor Markle put an inbox in the assignment tab and a description. “The most common excuse I here from aspiring writers who never have anything on their paper is that they don’t have the time. Between classes, supporting the family, a full-time job and kids, I can’t make it happen every day. I had all of these things before I was 30, and I made it happen.” Here he goes again with the gloating. “This assignment is a contest. Write a short story about a time, real ...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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Mosaic

Submitted to Contest #304

Humanity had not collapsed into chaos as many had feared; instead, it had morphed into something far more insidious—an ironclad version of order. Centuries after the Collapse, the remnants of the world reorganized themselves not along the traditional lines of geography or culture, but based on belief systems, sharper and more rigid than any border that had ever divided nations. These ideological constructs came to be known as Orders. Each Order was governed like a sovereign state, complete with laws, institutions, and borders, yet beneath th...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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THE MUSE

Submitted to Contest #304

The term muse is a term that implies someone, or something, acts upon a person to allow or aid them in creating something.Victoria is a muse.She resides at a small retreat for authors, artists, and poets located in Wyoming, making the rounds of the rooms and the inspirational locations around the property. As she approaches a living artist, she passes through them, giving a little of herself to the person. For her, it appears some of her energy is transferred to the artist, but to the artist, all they feel is inspiration.One artist, an autho...

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Between Writers

Submitted to Contest #304

The prickling vine bush hangs down the peeling wallpaper, etching its impression down to the cracked linoleum floor. A soft whirring fan, covered in a myriad of dust, cascades a small dainty kitchen with one working burner and a sink full of dishes. A sink full of dishes that, most certainly, had not been touched in a few weeks. A sliding glass door opens out into an enclosed area with overgrown plants and stacks of books. All the books haphazardly stacked with no real organizational system. Chipped coffee mugs sit absentmindedly on a small ...

5 likes 0 comments 0
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First time Writer

Submitted to Contest #304

Started my first year, double stroke interfered with completing my undergraduate program in the “Creative-self taught Writing, Freelance-Author,” I feel ready and excited to restart my life to living to the fullest, and a new journey on pursuing my dreams to never giving up.🦇My identity is that of Raven-Wolf, a High-Princess within the shaman-druidic order, Energetic witch, blood-hunter, demigod-cleric🦇 whose physical form is as captivating as my spiritual calling; my pale skin provides a stark contrast to my long, vibrant blue-green hair th...

7 likes 2 comments 2
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PTD !

Submitted to Contest #304

Now that I have your attention, let me assure you the title of this story is not a typo and I will herein explain its significance during the following discourse. I’m a person who, if given the choice of coming back again per the unlikely phenomenon of reincarnation, would prefer to be a most successful “Cupid”. Witnessing the cementation of an eternal bond between a man and a woman pleases me.So I chose to produce a manuscript as a way of bringing to life this angelic dream of becoming a kind of messenger of love, and personify an encouragi...

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In The Wee Hours

Submitted to Contest #304

Sarah pulled up and parked, thoroughly disenchanted. Another shift, another round of idiots and zombies to entertain. She looked up at the neon sign, which read “wik-E-Mart”, as the “K” had given up long ago. Much the same as she had. No fireworks or big saga, just quietly stopped working when no one else was looking. She sighed, thinking to herself this tired internal monologue of hers really needed to get a life.She moved as if she was a zombie herself, scanning items and taking payments, completely lackluster and barely there. Low mumbled...

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Bright as the Stars

Submitted to Contest #304

Stars. They twinkle above the heavens. The lights of those who have past. The celestial beings watching over Earth. The fragments of elements lumped together hovering in the vastness above. Nights had been my favorite times of day then. Momma and I would sit or sometimes lay on the ground and watch them for hours. We could do that then because we were in the country. Momma would share stories about each speck of light. The little one that we could barely see was my little sister who was taken away from us too soon. The big bulbous star was m...

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The Dream Weaver

Submitted to Contest #304

Flinn soared across a purple sky, his long coat snapping against the head wind and his dark hair alive amid the current. An intense light rained down from a tapestry of white stars, back lighting him in an ethereal glow. His mastery of the night realm bled from his powerful form in flight. If anyone could see him, he would look bloody awesome. Unfortunately, as usual, everyone else in the world of dreams was asleep. He sighed at the wasted effort he always put into his dramatic arrival, and slowed to hover over the town of Lunar Bay, ready t...

15 likes 7 comments 7
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Thomas Wilson Jones is a Normal Man.

Submitted to Contest #303

Thomas Wilson Jones is a normal man. He wakes up each morning with a yawn and arm flung over the woman, Vicki, next to him. He curses the alarm that causes both bodies to stir like worms in a jar of fish bait. For a brief moment before he stands he wishes that his arms were coated in the same slimy residue as those wriggling creatures, if only to make an excuse to stick to his bed for five minutes longer. As per usual, Vicki will get up first, warming Thomas’ cheek with a kiss full of morning breath and the smell of sleep before she pads tow...

6 likes 6 comments 6
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Losing and Finding Her Voice

Submitted to Contest #304

Finally, I get to showcase my original song! Well… it’s at an open mic next week at Latte Da, and between spoken words and cover songs, I’ll perform my original. And sure, most people will mostly just be thinking about their act, not appreciating my performance as deeply as they could, but it’s a start! Truly, I’d rather perform in front of people sipping coffee, half-listening to me as they gossip with friends, than to still be making coffee, dreaming of music all hours of the day. Everyone starts somewhere. “I just asked how your day was…”...

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ANGEL

Submitted to Contest #304

ANGEL Every spring carries with it an aura of promise. The newness can be seen in the tree blossoms, the crocuses lifting their heads above the ground to breathe new air, and the melodic chirping of birds whose song had been stifled by the cold winter. None of this is new, but rather a renaissance of what had occurred many times before. I looked forward to springtime. This one felt different and I was approaching it with hope. Writing has always been my passion and over the last two years, it fell back into my life like an old ...

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Pioneering Words: The Life and Legacy of Irene Silverstein

Submitted to Contest #304

The faint scent of lilies and something vaguely metallic, like old pennies, clung to the air. I was maybe three, four years old, clinging to my great-grandmother's arm. A woman that was tall and elegant, with curly silver hair, and large round glasses. She smiled, a smile that reached her eyes, and offered me a small, sugared almond. I remember the feeling of the smooth shell, the sweet taste, but not her face. She was a fleeting image, a whisper of a memory, quickly swallowed by the bustling, echoing space of family gatherings. I never knew...

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