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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

6170+ Thriller Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Looking for a story that will keep you on the edge of your seat and holding your breath? Don’t skip our collection of thriller short stories.

Thriller Short Stories – Page 3 of 412

Mistaken Identities

Submitted to Contest #297

As he drove down the dusty grid road to his property's drive, he saw his nearest neighbor out cutting the grass for the last time before the warm fall decended into the bleak onslaught of endless Canadian winter. That could honestly happen at any time now "hmph, let it come." he mused, this would be his 47th year living here...he was born in the city, raised on the farm, and never left. He waved as he drove past - out of politeness, it was the 'country' thing to do after all. He grew up at roughly the same age as his neighbor, they were only...

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On the Run

Submitted to Contest #297

When they came for her, she ran. It surprised Indie as much as it did the agents of the Federal Collection Unit crowded at her dormitory door. She spied the three men through her peephole after the first set of forceful knocks, but it was the follow-up demand to “open up” that stunned her. Every cell in her body froze for a beat, a pause just long enough for instinct to hijack her muscles and start them churning. It was an unexpected reaction, one that hit so fast Indie didn’t have a chance to curb it. She was out her window and down the cre...

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Mop Water

Submitted to Contest #297

The clock above the nurses’ station clicks from 2:42 to 2:43 a.m.Lance dips the mop into the bucket, the gray water churning with a lazy swirl. The plastic bucket squeaks as it rolls forward, one wheel clicking every few inches. The hallway is empty. Too quiet, even for graveyard shift. He hums something low and tuneless—half lullaby, half static in his brain.Left side of the hallway, then right. Mop. Rinse. Repeat.That’s the rule. That’s the routine. That’s what keeps things quiet in his head.Room 214’s door is cracked open.He stops mid-swi...

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Thrills and chills of two 75-year-olds.

Submitted to Contest #297

The Mediterranean sparkled beneath us, as David banked the old C-47 Skytrain toward the southeast. The hum of the twin Pratt & Whitney engines was a steady comfort, though the cabin vibrated like a living thing. I’d finally caved to his week-long pestering. He convinced me to come along on a medical aid mission to Darfur in Sudan, a place shredded by civil war and bleeding from terrorist raids spilling over from neighboring countries, with or without the help and knowledge of the Sudanese government. How could I say no to an old friend o...

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The Tenth Hour

Submitted to Contest #297

THE TENTH HOUR12:00 p.m. The train rocked slightly as it pulled out of Euston Station, metal wheels screeching under the weight, while the city carried on above. Thomas Quinn sat alone by the window; coat collar still turned up against the grey drizzle outside. He hadn’t shaved in two days now, and the coffee in his paper cup had cooled long ago. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t drinking it for the taste.He reached for the cup and saw something tucked under the sleeve of his coat, barely visible, just a corner of folded paper where it hadn’t been...

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Celia investigates a secret staircase behind a secret bookcase

Submitted to Contest #297

Celia quietly closed her hotel bedroom door behind her and crept the few steps along the corridor to the bookcase. She listened, but all was quiet. Celia moved the wall lamp to the right, and the secret bookcase clicked open. Once inside, she closed the bookcase door. It was close to midnight when Celia began to ascend the creaky, wooden staircase, her trusty keyring torch cutting a narrow beam through the thick, oppressive darkness. The surrounding air was musty and still. The light from her torch bounced off the walls, highlighting specks ...

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12.01 a.m.

Submitted to Contest #297

A sandy-haired twelve-year-old boy named Crispin Taylor stares in dismay at the dilapidated house. His parents divorced five years ago, and Crispin and his mother now live in a small flat in Guildford, England. His mother, Susan, recently inherited the house from her aunt on the outskirts of town. Her aunt’s father made his fortune manufacturing men’s haberdashery. Susan told Crispin that his great aunt’s name was Beatrice Baines. She never had children, so she would invite Susan, several other cousins, and a few of the neighbor’s child...

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One Second of Silence

Submitted to Contest #297

I never thought the night would come. The night where I stood in the hallway, my bare feet cold against the floorboards, the weight of a gun unfamiliar in my hands. It was heavier than I imagined. Real. Solid. Like the decision I hadn’t yet made.The house was silent, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic buzz of the ceiling fan. I could hear his breathing from the bedroom. Deep. Loud. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he hadn't crushed mine over and over again.My fingers trembled.I hadn’t planned for it to go th...

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The Assassins Mark.

Submitted to Contest #297

My face and mouth were drenched in Dimitri’s blood, as my driver’s brains sprayed across me as his head exploded just inches away. The force of it was so intense, I swore I inhaled part of his final thought. Shards of his skull tore into my face, slicing open my brow and nose, shearing off most of my ear before slamming into the rear window.Instinct took over in an instant.I grabbed the door latch and threw myself out of the car into the freezing snow, rolling clear just as the door I’d escaped from was ripped clean off by a lamppost. A hear...

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Aisle 19

Submitted to Contest #297

I look at my watch. It’s 10:06 PM. Shit, I’m late for my shift again.I swear, this work is killing me. Every day all I do is move boxes from one end of the store to another. Today, like every other day, my shift started promptly at 10:00 PM, but of course I only clock in at 10:06 PM. The store is almost completely silent except for the low hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. In a few hours Joan, Noah, and Nate will start their shifts too. The night shifts at Ikea are not glamorous, but they pay the bills, I guess.I used to get fre...

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Saints and Their Sins

Submitted to Contest #296

There was only one thing Sister Vera disagreed with within the catholic church. Priests were the only ones worthy of hearing the sins of the people, petitioning God for their souls. In her mind, absolution may be the rite of priests, but retribution was her holy mission.Sister Vera sat quietly in the chapel’s vent, straining to hear the voices below her. All the other Sisters were in bed, peacefully slumbering until morning prayers began in a few hours. The only sounds were the voices of the two men in the confession box below her hiding pla...

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Time's Up

Submitted to Contest #296

“I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket. I’m, I’m, I’m huntin’, lookin’ for a come up-” The ringtone of Macklemore’s 2013 hit song “Thrift Shop” abruptly ends when a hand searching for the source of the sound finds its target. “H-hello?” the sleepy voice of a woman asked. “May I speak to Jason?” The voice on the phone asked back. The woman shot upright from her sleep daze and grabbed the arm of the person lying next to her. “I think you have the-” “Ma’am, I’m not the one you must worry about. If you want to live p...

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The Greatest Scientific Discovery

Submitted to Contest #296

Enzo Maren sits quietly at his desk, contemplating whether or not he should quit his job. Of all the reasons he thought he would leave the field of astrophysics, finding potentially the most remarkable discoveries in scientific history was not one of them. He folds his hands under his chin and glances at the clock: It’s 11:34 PM on Wednesday, April 10th, 2025. Enzo has precisely three days to make a decision, one that could ultimately change life on Earth forever. He reaches for his coffee cup to take a sip. “Ay guey!” He spews out the scal...

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To Preserve and Persevere

Submitted to Contest #296

To Preserve and Persevere In the sarcaphagal concrete clock room of the tallest building in the city, Detective Christine Ngyuen, wrists and ankles bound by wire that bit into her flesh, stared at the hooded figure. Computers stacked in a corner hummed and buzzed, three monitors showing data in pale blue text. High wall lights cast pale light over the room. A single painting occupied the opposite wall: Saturn devouring his child. “Why are you doing this?” No answer. Ngyuen struggled against the binds. The more she strained, the deeper it b...

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Letters From an Assassin

Submitted to Contest #296

The letter arrived on a Tuesday. Vincent Rossi had just finished an unbelievably grueling day pouring and smoothing cement for a client. It wasn’t a big job, just a four-foot by six-foot slab for a little outdoor patio, but with Vince everything had to be perfect. A result of his upbringing and requirement in his previous line of work. Details mattered. It was how he operated. How he lived. It was also how he knew who had sent the letter before he even touched it.The envelope had been sealed with tiny dots of glue, the stamp placed perfectly...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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