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A weekly short story contest
Looking for a steady supply of romance short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.
Coming of Age
People of Color
Teens & Young Adult
We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $250!
Saniya met Bruce when she was all of fifteen years old. Her beloved uncle had just passed away. He was a gifted musician and singer, whose life had been snuffed away for some senseless and unsolved reason. Her younger cousin Trish was in Bruce’s fourth grade class. He had been assigned as a substitute teacher, but then was hired on as a permanent teacher for the remainder of the school year. Trish mentioned that Bruce was also a part-time singer and that he resembled their late uncle. Saniya wanted to see for herself, so she made haste t...
The sun sank behind darkening mountains, finally allowing the hot earth to rest from another day of having all color baked to brown in the harsh desert. Around the shadowed peaks a white canvas was stretched where purples and pinks and oranges birthed a living painting in the clouds. For just a moment the sky gifts the desert beige with beauty impossible to capture and impossible to keep beyond the few moments where sun and cloud and chance align and hypnotize whatever eyes happen upon it until darkness encroaches and all that remains i...
When a man loves a woman, there’s nothing he won’t do to win her attention. He buys her clothes and jewelleries, calls her often and sends her texts. He tries to keep her happy all the time. Sometimes he borrows money to do shopping with her. Anything to convince her that he is Mr. Perfect.There is a certain girl who lives in the next street. She is about nineteen by your observation. Her father is late and her mother owns a shop where she sells her wares. In the scale of public opi...
She always watched him from afar, since the beginning of the year. She saw him in the hallways, watching her every move. She watched him back, her gaze burning into his soft hazel eyes. It was not just looking, it was much more. Savanna wanted to talk to him, but her shyness took over and she walked passed him, like every other time. He would watch her go before turning back to...
"We should get pictures!" I jumped up off of the ground and swiftly brushed off my dress."Again?" My best friend, Paisley, asked as I pulled her towards the photo booth."Please, just one more group picture?" I pleaded.We gathered our friends and we waited in line. As we waited, Paisley whispered, "Hey, I'll be right back, I'm going to check on Wilson."I rolled my eyes and winked. I hated Wilson, and she knew that. But he made her happy so I made an exception.I looked at my group of friends, buzzing with ...
Toma discovers her childhood swing on the Sunday after she returns to Shiloh. It hangs limply from the cherry tree’s branch, creaking as it sways in the May afternoon. Around it, the grass is so tall it nearly hides the wooden plank from view. She knows it’s Sunday because she hears the church bells from the direction of town where the fisherfolk live, rolling up the inlet with high tide the way it did when she was young.
It was a Saturday morning, the birds singing in the trees, as he walked tirelessly across the pasture, thinking of allsorts in his head. He just finished the last drag of his cigarette before returning back to the house to finish packing. It was the day they were moving, away from England and going abroad for the first time.His job took him to many places, sometimes, he hardly had the chance to spend time with his family. The lucky break came when the company he wo...
Felicity sat on Grammy's porch swing, her head cupped in her hands. The softly scented breezes rippled the sparkling waters of the ocean. Sunny rays spilled over her golden hair and pooled around her bare feet. She gazed out over the quiet village street and marveled at the lovely day that God created. She was blessed to live in this quaint, old village by the sea where her Scottish ancestors settled years ago. There was something so steadfast about this village. It had sto...
I just woke up from my 3rd nap today, when I decide to look through the attic for any memories that I might still remember. As I walked up the stairs leading to the attic, I realized that I had forgotten to take my medication. Before continuing with my story, my name’s Athena Scott, named after the Greek Goddess because of a story that my parents told me. When I was 4, I cut open my Ken doll’s head and tried to fit Barbie in it because I was so obsessed with how Athena was born.
I was once me.I am not anymore.It is strange, not to be yourself any longer.But that is what happens when you crash to the earth, your wings pulled from your back, bleeding, slightly feathered strips of skin and bone all that’s left.
A timid morning sun shows its first signs of arrival now, highlighting the blank sky with traces of gold. The stars have nearly disappeared, ready to retire, another night’s work nearly complete. This is the place where the evening meets the daylight, conversing with one another without any expectation. Soon it will be full dawn, but for now the world sleeps soundly beneath a blanket that the two skies have woven together. There is a house discreetly nestled between earth and sky. Slightly overgrown and shabby,...
The air before me had a lonely scent, quite contrasting with my surroundings, and when I closed my eyes I knew the Phantom. Its voice? As it ever was, I think – a ponderous melody not entirely unlike my own tremulous cords. The notes thrummed inside my head, awakening in somber neurons, and a bit of my hatred and sorrow ebbed from thoughts of Her and marched soldier-like to this new intruder. “I told you not to return.” Fear shook my resolve, and was met with a fiery grin. “I do not obey you. I obey only myself. And though ...
The more I think of her, the more I yearn for her. When she isn't by my side, I can't but see her even then. But when she is… oh, it's always much more perfect than my wildest imagination. And here she is, at my house, a glass of wine in her hands."Morgan, what you doing here, my dear?""Your stupid roommate is late again," she moves the glass in circles "Would you like to accompany, my darling?""Of course." I sat at the...
The sun was setting with ethereal colors making it seem like we were in heaven it was such a beautiful sight. The sky was decorated with deep oranges, bright pinks, and light baby blue colors. The clouds were separated giving the perfect shadow to the already not believable sight. As we all lay there with our feet warm cozy sand, hand in hand we look up at the sky and as if on command I say, “I wonder what it's like up there, are there really never-ending happy days and ...
I don't care if I ever get off this rock.
Because right before I shut my eyes I can hear her heartbeat.
Its soft thump sings me to sleep.
I'd not exactly given up hope when I came out here. I wanted to search for a living thing.
Not a person. An experience that had the qualities of a person.
But it was always the lack of pure hope that dragged me down. It broke a hole in the bottom of our boat, which honestly wasn't all that sea worthy to begin with.
It was this little bit of suicid...
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