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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

10940+ Sad Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Do you ever need to break your own heart? We see you. Grab a tub of ice cream or a box of tissues and settle down with some of the best, really sad short stories to make you cry.

Sad Short Stories – Page 729 of 730

Where to Find Baking Soda at 2 AM

Submitted to Contest #31

The mattress itself is stained, but I suppose I’ll deal with that later. Taking care only to touch the dry parts of the sheet, I wrestle it and the pillowcases into a laundry basket and carefully pick my way out of the room—the police said it was okay to move stuff around now, they’ve got what they needed, but I still feel like I shouldn’t disturb anything. Except the sheets, I guess. The hallways are quiet. The usual parties that rock our dorm ended abruptly when the cops arrived, but by now they would’ve ended anyway. Everyone retreated b...

16 likes 2 comments 2
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A Spring Breeze in Winter

Submitted to Contest #30

Corina woke up and her sheets, damp with cold sweat, clung to her body. Her dream still swam in her vision—the dizzying vertigo from the view off the bridge started to turn her stomach. She’d woken up right as she’d jumped, and yet she could still feel the wind on her face as she’d fallen. Her ragged breath echoed around the barren apartment. She couldn’t still her heartbeat, and she looked around wildly for Shoebox before remembering that she’d dropped her cat off at her new home yesterday before—wait, before what? As Corina closed her eye...

17 likes 4 comments 4
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Absolute Value

Submitted to Contest #29

As the morning fog bobbed over the small downtown district, Kate stopped by the French market and cafe on Main for her to-go order before starting her twenty-mile Sunday journey. Two warm croissants protecting gently folded eggs and crispy mesquite-smoked bacon. One with Swiss and one with cheddar for her and Chloe. Two identical large coffees, cream only.Even though the breakfast would arrive barely warm and coffees cold, Kate needed the breakfast to balance of the chaos their current relationship. Friendship never used ...

10 likes 0 comments 0
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The Burning Avocado Tree

Shortlisted for Contest #29 ⭐️

As Kiwi grew up we took her to her granpadre’s place more often. We lived so far away that at the beginning, when she was younger, we only went there at Michaelmas time. Before we moved to the America we drove hours and hours home to Guadalajara, and now it takes too many hours and aeroplane rides.Kiwi loved her grandfather and hated Guadalajara. We lived in el Ciudad de Mexico in a tiny narrow street house in a building with thirty others. Granpadre was in his huge empty house full of silence and green waving plants.When Kiwi was ten we too...

51 likes 4 comments 4
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Going Through a Loss Unexpectedly Caused Me to Lose a Part of Myself

Submitted to Contest #28

Are you the type of person that is fight or flight? Well, I flee. I know that running away is not always the best option, but that is my first instinct. If there is a large bug in the office I run far away until a co-worker assures me the situation has been taken care of. I usually flee unless someone needs help and then I am usually right there because compassion outweighs my fear.The year of 2017 was a time I wanted to flee. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. Part of me didn’t care while the other part cared too much. All I wanted to...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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The Crap That Will Never Happen

Submitted to Contest #28

The Crap That Will Never Happen #1: Any of these delusional fantasies will ever come true. The Crap That Will Never Happen #2: You will find out about any of these delusional fantasies.The Crap That Will Never Happen #3: You don't know me. We pass, walking on the sidewalk of a busy street. You see my shirt. You say, "Cool shirt. I like Fall Out Boy, too." That's it. That's all. The Crap That Will Never Happen #6: I finally get up the courage to talk to you. I ask for your number. The Crap That Will Never Happen #7: You give it...

40 likes 7 comments 7
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Track Therapy

Shortlisted for Contest #27 ⭐️

Audra needs a quiet train ride this morning so she is purposefully taking a later train than normal. The sunrise train cars full of business people bickering about work-induced anxieties will be pulling into the terminal station tunnels downtown when she boards the eight-nineteen.With the Loomis presentation on digitizing their warehouse only two days away, Audra will lead the rehearsal for the entire team this afternoon. As project manager, she will orchestrate a cohesive narrative – ensuring everyone understands how their piece o...

12 likes 4 comments 4
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Holding

Shortlisted for Contest #26 ⭐️

He wakes up in an empty bed. A pang of hollowness stabs him. It will take a long time before he’s used to this, the raw ache of missing. It’s a familiar feeling. It feels like losing a limb. For a minute he lies there, crushed by the weight of a thousand empty mornings stretching out before him. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, to face the loneliness of the future that yawns like a gaping mouth. How can he bring himself to move forward into a world without her? He will not think of the future. Not yet. Today is for remembering. He forces h...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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In Drink and In Music

Submitted to Contest #26

“Can you stop doing that, please?”“Hmmm?” Zemira followed Willa’s gaze to her fingers, lightly scraping against the table. “Oh. Sorry.”“You’ve been fidgeting all evening, what’s the matter?”“I miss my lute.”“It’s on your back.”“I miss playing my lute.”Willa took a deep swig from the tankard in front of her. Wiping the froth from her chin, she said, “You shouldn’t charge so much. The king’s putting up the taxes again next week.”Zemira slumped in her seat. “Damn war. I’ll never get hired again.”Willa bit her lip. “What about…” She trailed off....

7 likes 0 comments 0
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Apollo's Unsung Love

Submitted to Contest #26

Apollo’s chariot ride was coming to an end. As he slowed down for one long last look at the sky, he lit the sky up with lustrous shades of gold and red. It was a sight to witness, certainly. Yet, the throngs of people below in the town weren’t interested. Not a single soul looked at his magnificent chariot, although just one look could have calmed down the anxiety of their dying men, fighting a useless war on their insignificant battlefield. Insignificant, even for mortal standards. Nevertheless wartime it was, and all humans lose their perc...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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The Last Gift

Submitted to Contest #26

It had been when I was young that everyone told me that I would grow up to be a doctor—that, in language that five-year-old me could understand, I would fix people and make them better. Pretty much change the world, they had made it seem. It didn’t seem much too difficult of a job, from the way Grandfather worded his experiences in medical life. All you were required to do was to come in after the nurse had seen the patient and taken vital signs down, discuss what it was exactly that the patient was suffering, and then prescribe whatever med...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Playing in the Key of German

Submitted to Contest #26

Pierre St. Lacouis squinted at the page shivering before him in the night air, the gentle wind rustling the tree leaves that shimmered in the moonlight. Even in the dim light, his sharp eyes caught every single note of Camille Saint-Saens’ piece, a piece he knew by heart. It was another one of those songs that instantly touched his heart—instantly made his fingers yearn with the eagerness to produce the sweet notes on his own instrument. The violin he held balanced under his chin waited, the bow held just so above the strings, and the audien...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Festival of the Bear's Hand

Submitted to Contest #26

I am the woman who sits at the café edge, the one with bluish curled hair, the one who writers her Ls all cursive, the one who only loves men named Martin. I am she. I sit. I watch. The café belongs to me within my soul. I live here. I sit under a viney shade with a cup in my raw-rubbed fingers, blue curls hiding my eyebrows, sitting, watching. They call me Mademoiselle Sorcière. The witch-lady.I do this every day, here in this café. I drink the same tea, smile the same smile, sit in the same place. But the people that I watch are different....

41 likes 3 comments 3
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My Sweet Baby

Submitted to Contest #20

My sweet baby, all fresh and pure.I seen nothing sweeter, than my babe beforeI will hold you proudly, till you can walk strongThen my little babe, will be gone, a strong manAnd then this sweet mother, will rejoice for so long.         Aged arms caressed a soft child as the song was hummed with a raspy voice. The child slumbered as his mother slowly put him down into the crib. Sunlight streamed into the room, flooding the wooden rocking chairs, the body size mirror, and the sleeping babe in a golden war...

8 likes 5 comments 5
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Butterfly Wings in a Shoebox

Submitted to Contest #20

Maarte woke with a start, and early. It was dark still. She lay there with her eyes open, searching for the window, trying to remember what day it was. Then she remembered.She rose after a few minutes and went and sat at the kitchen table, watching the window that looked out onto the empty lot next door.Maarte sat silently, listening to the first of the birds outside. After a few minutes she made her coffee and waited for the sun. By the time she was drinking the dregs, dawn had broken quietly before her.Maarte stood and dressed quickly. It ...

36 likes 3 comments 3
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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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