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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.

150+ 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 8 of 10

A Fight For Peace

Submitted to Contest #313

When the clouds come around you, You will reach for the sun, When life tries to force you, stay true, You will learn to find peace when the day is done, When the danger engulfs you, don’t run. By saving their lives you will conquer all harm, When you see, you will die in my arms. The words played in August’s head as the blue sky soared above him, through the dappled leaves of the yard’s oak. He sat in its lowest branch, as he always did with his free time, content to daydream. Before he could spend time considering the words, his older sist...

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Talking in Loud Bars

Submitted to Contest #313

Darcy Williams steps off the tube into the cool autumn air of the city and lights a cigarette. Her metal flip lighter is engraved with the name of the man she is on her way to meet; her father had never been a smoker but always kept the lighter on him. She is still in her work clothes, having only taken the time to drop her briefcase before dashing out the door again, although, in most ways, this was work. Her boss had pitched her the article about childhood, about elderly parents, about distance. She knew she could do it, of course she coul...

3 likes 1 comment 1
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They Think I’m the Bad Guy

Submitted to Contest #313

"The family will be there at 10:30." Helen continues brushing Emily's hair with rhythmic efficiency. Emily’s whimpers of pain steadily grow less subtle with each clinical brush stroke. "Emily has her appointment with the agency today and I'm not going to take Sofia. So, you'll need to take her too.""No, I know. It'll be fine. The Jacksons will have Travis. Sofia will be fine with me. I have my call with John, but that is all I am waiting for today.""TRAVIS! STOP!" I turn just in time to watch the flower-dressed Sofia dash past the rails of t...

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The Endless Climb

Submitted to Contest #313

The Unending ClimbBy J.L. Butterworth His fingers scramble for purchase on the steep, rocky hill. Nothing but darkness surrounds him, but he feels as though he’s adrift in an infinite void, only the dirt underneath his fingernails and the earth digging into his knees felt solid — real. “I can’t...I can’t...there’s no way...” Admitting defeat, yet clinging on with his fingertips, his body flat against the precarious ground, gasping between every word. “I believe in you.” A voice calls out, from everywhere and yet nowhere. “Who is that??” His ...

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The Lemon Tree

Submitted to Contest #313

Sharp. Ivy smelled it before she saw it. Something tart and bright tinged the hot, humid summer breeze drifting into her muggy car. She had been sitting in the car, engine off, for nearly ten minutes now. Lemons. That’s what it was. She turned her head to look out across her father’s barren front yard. A lone lemon tree was planted right next to the porch steps. It must’ve been six feet tall. Had she not noticed it last year when she was here for the funeral? Ivy glanced down at the Tupperware container on the passenger seat. Yakisoba with ...

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The Car Ride Home

Submitted to Contest #313

This story contains mentions of suicidal ideation, as well as pregnancy loss or miscarriage. Please don't read if these topics might affect you. Take care. XO. The Car Ride HomeBy: Halle Giannelli I sit up in bed while my husband packs the remainder of our belongings for the car ride home. I only packed a couple bags, but over the course of my two night stay, the collection of items has grown. A care package from Mom. A bouquet of flowers from work. A folder of documents from the billing department I wish we could leave behind. “All set. Are...

3 likes 2 comments 2
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Shattered Skies and the storm that followes

Submitted to Contest #313

Layla strained to look at the plane carrying her husband away. At the moment she couldn't help but think how small, how fragile the plane was against the dark, stormy skies. The clouds churned ominously. It wasn't often they were separated, maybe two or three times since the day they got engaged over 5 years ago. She couldn't help but worry. The distance between them was unbearable, it left an empty, gnawing feeling in her chest. “Overbooked my butt”, she scoffed to herself, under her breath. Her husband had a business meeting in San Francis...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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Goodbye to Grandma

Submitted to Contest #313

Usually, Grandma’s house smells like lavender and freshly baked bread, but today it smells like death. It hangs in the air, like a dark cloud brooding for a storm. Mother breathes it in with her deep inhales, fighting back the tears – she was old, she lived a long and happy life - while I silently hope she doesn’t keel over too. I’m glad nobody has mentioned it – the smell. Perhaps they haven’t noticed. Too busy doing the things people do when someone dies. Silly things. Things to take your mind off the very serious thing happening around yo...

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If I Am a Bird, Then You Are My Wings. A Pity We’re Both Broken.

Submitted to Contest #313

Content Warning: Contains themes of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, illness, and murder. Please proceed with caution. I loved poetry.I loved the way it flowed, the way the timing and prose could change the story behind the words. I loved poetry that rhymed and poetry that didn’t. I wasn’t any good at writing it, though.“How’s the latest poem going, Sunshine?”My pencil squeaked forlornly over the my journal paper as I turned to look up at my mom with a grimace. She leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed and a smile that always made...

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Three’s Company

Submitted to Contest #313

The clock high upon the yellowing wall ticks down another minute. Tick.Tick. Its been atleast ten since he’s spoken a word.“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I whisper through my tight jaw, feeling the tension in the air weigh heavy on my teeth. “What more is there to say?” He doesn’t even look at me. No, those deep space lit eyes stay trained on the cracked wooden table between us. To anyone in this coffee shop watching, there’s only about two feet of space between us. In theory I could reach out and touch him. But the reality is, he’s so ...

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The Shape of Loss

Submitted to Contest #313

Her breath reeked of something metallic—like decay. It hit me before I even opened my eyes. I had leaned in close, searching for her warmth, but the scent told me something was already wrong.Beneath my palm, her body was cool where it used to be alive with purrs. Her fur, once soft and silken, now felt thin and brittle—like it had given up.I remember the way Hyori’s mouth hung open, panting shallowly. Each breath was a race she’d never catch up to—a race she was already losing. Every time she tried to breathe, her abdomen sank deep, her skin...

6 likes 3 comments 3
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Can You See Me?

Submitted to Contest #313

“Are you there, God? It’s me”The empty desolate room holds not even a whisper of the vibrant family home it no doubt used to be. The fresh winter air bites at my exposed face as i carefully kneel down on the cement floor.“I pray often you know” Agony strikes across my face and i wince.“I didn’t know you had this in store for me” I close my eyes, but my eyelids which are half gone prevent me from doing so completely. My eyes now dry as the desert, leak near constant tears in the feeble attempt to help.“My eyes hurt” I say aloud. My voice wobb...

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What Matters Most

Submitted to Contest #313

(Death of a parent - not by suicide) The boys are already fighting over cleats in the front hallway, and I haven't even finished my first cup of coffee. Michael swears someone stole his left shoe, and Ezra is yelling back "it's not stealing if you leave it in the car for three days." I just shake my head and laugh, because somehow this is the rhythm of our mornings now: chaos, noises, and the exact kind of mess that we are here and in it together. Fall is coming fast and I can already feel the buzz of the season. Between soccer games, footba...

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The Garden Fence

Submitted to Contest #313

There is a rhythm to the mornings now.By the time sunlight creeps over the hedgerow and lights up the tangled rose trellis, Elsie is already out back, garden gloves pulled snug, kneeling before her patch of half-dead marigolds as if they are something holy. Next door, Charles wheels out a metal folding chair, dusts off the cushion, and sits with a crossword and a cup of tea. They always exchange the same greetings: variations on weather and aches, did-you-see-the-news-recently.“You’d think the sun would help these knees, but I swear it just ...

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The Last Fishing Trip

Submitted to Contest #313

The water lazily lapped against the aluminum boat hull. The gentle waves reflected the diminishing light as the sun slowly began to dip below the treeline of the small tree-linned lake. Hector had spent many days fishing this very lake with his grandfather. It was their secret lake, so his grandfather Alfred claimed. His grandfather was so secretive that Hector wasn't entirely sure he knew the actual name of the lake. In most discussions with other anglers, Alfred regularly changed the name of the lake in question. Was he forgetful? No. Alf...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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