Menu

Menu
Prompts
Contests
Stories
Blog
Featured stories
Activity feed

Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

8830+ Mystery Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. No need to go out hunting for clues — you’ve solved the puzzle of where to find the newest mystery short stories just by landing on this page.

Mystery Short Stories – Page 3 of 589

The Dome

Submitted to Contest #300

The stone guardian must have been protecting the great dome and its buildings for a long, long time considering its begrimed condition. Elders tell tales of guardians who continue their duties even through the most numbing winters. From the treetop, Yuna signals Kubo, “Go now. Quickly.” Outside of view, they swiftly swung through the vines and branches around the protector of the dome. Kubo kept a hand on his pouch. He hadn’t sewn it as well as Yuna and thus the flap threatened to come undone and spill his fruit. Yuna motioned him to hurry...

9 likes 1 comment 1
Read story

To the lake

Submitted to Contest #300

This is a thought experiment. All that you are about to witness is purely imaginary, forms part of my imagination and produced predominantly by my subconscious, no matter what I might say otherwise past this point. I say this whenever I space out too much. Not daydreaming, nothing mundane or trivial. This is not a form of entertainment or escapism, quite the contrary, ‘tis is mental labour in its finest. When I say space out, I mean it, a kid imagining how he saves an entire school from a terrorist attack or continues a cool fight scene he t...

6 likes 5 comments 5
Read story

The House on West Shore Road

Submitted to Contest #300

Trigger warning: mention of death and suicide. Violence and grief.We drove passed it at least once a month. It was in serious need of TLC. The house on West Shore Road had remained empty for a decade. I remember trying to understand why a house that could be in such an amazing neighborhood plus a house that was once beautiful and charming could remain empty for so long. One night just after I loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, my husband rushed into the room and he looked like he was about to burst with excitement."Ok, tell me why you ha...

5 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

Fjord

Submitted to Contest #300

I found myself in a valley of titans. Snowy mountains scraped the sky. A gigantic obelisk pierced the ice beneath my feet. The sun formed a spotlight over the structure. I stood alone. This fjord was veiled in complete silence until a voice slashed through. Deep of pitch and throaty of tone, it was unlike any human tongue. Yet, I could understand through sensation. Somehow, I understood that my help was needed. I knew where to go. Then, I awakened. The computer’s steel voice entered my mind. “Intergalactic Governance, Jaeger corp, Dream Chas...

9 likes 4 comments 4
Read story

The Sea Giveth ...

Submitted to Contest #300

THE SEA GIVETH… WARNING: The use of one word, albeit by an unsavoury character but germane to the story She had always appreciated an excuse to come into town. She had walked the arcade so many times but still it refreshed; it cleared her mind and lifted her spirits. Motivation and concentration, the awareness of her surrounding, were the beneficiaries. She sat outside Duckie’s Bar facing the sea. On one side there was Barth’s Chandlers, spick and span with a fancy astrolabe in the window and a gleaming weather vane atop the roof. On the...

5 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

Don't Trust the Wildflowers

Submitted to Contest #300

Warning: death. Spring came along as it always did, and fresh pollen stuck to the earth like snow, to the delight of many hard-working families. For the unique ranching town of Fawndale, this would bring new life, sunnier days, abundant crops, and warnings to keep out of the flower field. Surrounding the area was a dense growth that sprouted gorgeous flora on the first of May each year, but everyone who had ventured into the growth never came out again; they just vanished and left no evidence behind. Any previous rescue attempts have only le...

9 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

What lies beneath the abandoned house on Vermont St.

Submitted to Contest #300

Six days out of the week I would wake up at 5 A.M. to do the paper route for my hometown, Richmond, Massachusetts. Where I would go from block to block delivering everyone's newspaper; I’d pass by my friend Jimmy's house as he would come outside at exactly 6:05 AM everyday of the week to wave and say hi to me as he grabbed his family's newspaper that I had just dropped off that morning and hurriedly get on his bike to catch up and join me. "Man, isn't it great that we don't have school today!", "Yes Jimmy, it is Saturday after all.", as he t...

7 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

The Haven

Submitted to Contest #300

This would be Clara's fifth visit to The Haven, and so it would be her last. No one ever returned for a sixth.A visit to The Haven was the one thing that they all had to look forward to as they stumbled through their workaday lives at The Commune, those who were over 35 years old anyway. It was a temporary respite from the dull and dreary confines of their daily existence; the constant struggle to work hard enough to stay ahead in the race against starvation and poverty and disease, the constant vigilance against all manner of physical threa...

20 likes 18 comments 18
Read story

Shaded Sight

Submitted to Contest #300

I didn’t find the trailhead. I found a trailhead. And that was the problem.The poem doesn’t warn you—it invites you in. Every line seems to glow with meaning. Until you realize it glows like a trick candle: bright, false, and hard to extinguish.I started my search like everyone else: with a map and a hunch. But to get where I ended up, I had to tear that hunch apart, follow constellations through shaded terrain, and admit I’d misread the compass more than once.It began the way these things always do: too many searchers, too many theories, an...

7 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

The Gold Beneath the Roots

Submitted to Contest #300

Tales whispered through my childhood told of a land veiled in mystery—where eight wine barrels of pure gold were buried deep beneath the surface, guarded by something—or someone—not of this world. Some said it was an ancient guardian. Others said it was a curse that devoured any who dared seek it. Many had tried. All had failed.None of them were the chosen one.And as a child, I never thought that person could be me.The dreams started when I was fourteen. Strange, surreal, and terrifyingly vivid. Always the same: I was standing under three en...

7 likes 4 comments 4
Read story

What Are They Hiding?

Submitted to Contest #300

Pareidolia-the phenomenon of seeing familiar objects or faces in random cloud formations. That's a nice sentiment but I don't believe a word of it and this is why. I've seen the things that are hidden in the clouds. Mysterious things. Obvious things... people, history, animals. Scenes from another realm perhaps. There's a whole world up there in those clouds that we know nothing about and I've only gotten glimpses through my camera's eye.I wonder why I'm called to take pictures of certain clouds because in reality I don't find something i...

5 likes 0 comments 0
Read story

The Radio Signal

Submitted to Contest #300

It started with posturing and threats, then came the tariffs. Prices escalated out of control. People revolted against food poverty across the world, the lack of amenities, poor housing, and prices continued to rise, but the shepherds didn’t care, they just kept getting richer, while the sheep were getting poorer. Then it went global. Tit for tat tariffs driving prices even higher, countries blamed each other for their economy crashing, then someone pressed that button. “THE BUTTON.” Everything went to shit in an instant. It had been years s...

10 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

The Treehouse

Submitted to Contest #300

In the woods outside of Oakridge, Mississippi, just where the cotton fields gave way to whispering pine and the scent of damp earth, stood the old pecan tree.It was a gnarled titan, thick-limbed and furrowed with age, looming over a crooked patch of wild brush not far behind the William’s old place. High in its twisting arms perched a forgotten treehouse—nothing more than a skeleton of weather-warped planks and sagging rope, but still clinging like a stubborn memory. The children of Oakridge had once called it a fort, a pirate ship, a hideou...

9 likes 2 comments 2
Read story

Once upon a time in Barcelona

Submitted to Contest #300

Barcelona... How long have I wanted to visit the city whose founding is attributed to the mythological hero Heracles? A city of ancient history, a center of world culture, where all roads and flight paths lead the tourist, where one can admire the creations of the wizard of architectural design, the great Gaudí. The Sagrada Familia... Although not everyone likes this building, what kind of monstrosity with four bottle-like spires is sticking up here? However, there's no accounting for taste. Barcelona must be seen!.. And here I am. By my own...

7 likes 1 comment 1
Read story

BLIND WOMAN'S BLUFF

Submitted to Contest #300

BLIND WOMAN’S BLUFF Shh… this is a dangerous environment I am in, and I am not alone here. I didn’t really start here. I am talking into my mini recorder. My personal audio journal. Softly and quietly. I, Louise Ellison, I am not sighted ( I refuse to use the” B” word, but feel free, you sighted folks, to label me however you like, but don’t be insulting or pandering. We get enough of that elsewhere). Anyway, as I said, I didn’t start here. I started in my very own quiet, safe living room. Of course, any environment can be a dangerous...

7 likes 2 comments 2
Read story
RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

Bring your short stories to life

Fuse character, story, and conflict with tools in Reedsy Studio. All for free.