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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

150+ Contemporary Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. All the newest modern day stories to thrill and inspire, all in one place.

Contemporary Short Stories – Page 3 of 10

Half his Heart

David Poslad

Weekly Contest #357

Friday, 6:38 p.m.TV’s on. Ravioli fresh out of the can. Hand in shorts. Lying on the sofa. Room warm. Rest of daylight through almost closed curtains. Waiting for the scene. There he comes. Black tuxedo. Hair perfect. Looking like a model. Audience clapping. Stomping. Loud. It’s him. Aleksander Marquardt. A star. Turning up the volume. Taking in every piece. Three steps. Turn around. Wave. Reporter blushing. Sander smiling. Like right out of a toothpaste commercial. Fake. But delicate. Not like with me. Met him few weeks ago. A Friday as wel...

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Our true friend for life

David Nutt

Weekly Contest #357

Our true friends for lifeIt hadn’t stopped raining all day. I was wet, cold, and alone. I wandered the streets aimlessly, looking for a place where I might shelter from the downpour and find a corner to sleep. At that moment, I saw old, blind George on the opposite side of the street, led by his guide dog. The rain was coming down hard. They didn’t even notice me. As I passed, I wondered what life meant for them. Old George lived in perpetual darkness and could only see things through conversations with others. Living in a dark world must fe...

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Waiting on Jasmine and Blackberries

Amber Walker

Weekly Contest #357

I remember once when the house was silent. When the mornings belonged to me. She would wake, her skin smelling of jasmine and blackberries, and she would fill my white bowl the moment the sun touched the edge of the kitchen rug. I noticed she was getting slower in the morning, whining to me how her back hurt now, but she couldn’t wait for River to be here.I don’t care much for rivers. I hate when she even gives me a bath. I groom myself perfectly fine, but my yowls in protest never got me very far.I would circle her legs, rubbing my scent ...

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Good Enough For Me

Frances Gaudiano

Weekly Contest #357

Good Enough For Me Here we go again. That vet place. Can’t say I enjoy my visits here. Once a year I get stabbed, which is supposed to be good for me. (Really?) and every time I visit I get weighed and shamed. Hey, it’s not my fault I’m big-boned. My person clips on my lead and leads me towards the door. I take one long breath of fresh air before entering. I know the disinfectant smell will burn my sensitive nostrils. Not sure why these vet hangouts are so into cleaning products. Like we dogs aren’t going to walk right out the door and traip...

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Whenever You Need Me

Annette M Jackson

Weekly Contest #357

My heart was racing when we first met. I was new to the world and terribly nervous, yet you held me in your hands and made me feel that everything would be all right. I squirmed and wiggled, trying to break free, but you held me securely and gently, as though I was precious treasure. Then you brought me close to your chest, and I felt the calming rhythm of your heartbeat. In that moment, our heartbeats seemed to fall into sync, and I silently vowed to remain by your side forever. When you took me to your home, you already had my food, toys, ...

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The Taste of Betrayal

Olivia W.

Weekly Contest #357

Droplets of sweat began to form on my forehead, as I foraged through my folder to verify that I'd brought my resume for the millionth time. I'd gone to several interviews before for various jobs such as a librarian assistant, babysitting, working at a cash register, and even a calculus- math tutor assistant (although, the last one couldn't exactly be considered as a pleasant experience, given that the students who came probably knew more complex math than I did), but none of these job interviews had been as nerve-racking as the one scheduled...

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The Three Friends

Valiant David Branch

Weekly Contest #357

“Randy, I’m sorry. They couldn’t save him. They said he lost too much blood.” Mom said. Time stopped immediately. The air continued escaping my lungs; it didn’t come back. My head felt light and heavy at the same time. The room felt increasingly warm. Was it always this warm before? I dropped to my knees. The world around me shook. I tried to focus on Mom, but the world was getting blurry. What is this wet sensation on my face? Am I crying? I cried. Stop crying? Why would you cry for that guy? Stop it, you stupid eyes! Everything was startin...

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The President & Me

Christian P

Weekly Contest #357

“I NEED my widow beaw!!” he yells. A hand appears seemingly out of nowhere, handing the President a teddy bear. He named the bear Joe. But this bear is not Joe. It’s a different bear, but identical in every way. He notices immediately and gets more angry, saying that the bear that was handed to him is named Harris. Toddlercore is not something he is aware of, fortunately, since that scene is almost entirely made up of the victims of childhood sexual abuse and pedophiles. He has no connection to that kind of perversion whatsoever. None at al...

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The Imposter in the Manger

Jim LaFleur

Weekly Contest #357

For five years, the title of "The Baby" was mine. I had the papers to prove it: a registration certificate from the kennel club and the undisputed evidence of being coddled, cooed at, and constantly photographed. Then they brought home the usurper, a creature whose only discernible talent was screaming at a pitch that curdled my kibble.Let me paint you a picture of the "Before Times".Mark threw the ball with authority. The man had form. A proper windup, a grunt of effort, and the thing sailed past the oak tree and into the far corner of the ...

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The Ribbon

Sarah Xenos

Weekly Contest #357

I watched her smile as they placed the prize in her hands once more, and in that instant felt something dark and silken stir awake within me, slow as smoke winding through a locked room. I stood beside her with tears caught like thorns beneath my ribs while the judges gazed blandly past the truth, as though beauty and injustice had long ago ceased to trouble even the dust upon their souls. She accepted another runner-up ribbon with grave composure, almost spectral in her calm, as though disappointment had become a pale and patient shroud wor...

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Next Tuesday

Madeleine Meyyappan

Weekly Contest #357

Marie peered in the window to see if Kim was there. She hated ringing that small gold bell on the counter. Its harsh ping was so invasive, like dropping a dish and tensing before it shattered on the floor.She pressed the tip of her nose to the glass to block the glare. Kim waved. Marie backed away from the window. Her shoulders reached her ears with anxiety. She wrenched the door open, muttering under her breath, “Why can’t dry cleaning be self-service like everything else?” Every week, Marie ordered some combination of a soup and salad fro...

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Spring. Earth. Her.

The Old Izbushka

Weekly Contest #357

A human smells chicken soup. I smell a symphony — and underneath all of it, her. I can smell the onions softening in butter. The bird that waited three days in the cold before it gave itself to the pot, its bones now seeping their essence into the water. The hand that stirred — dish soap still clinging to it, unable to suppress the sharp smell of minced garlic. It is her soup. Always. I lift my head and breathe her in. My eyes close. My nose knows her better than my eyes ever could. Home lives in her hands — soil and green and the damp of ea...

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The Architecture of Paranoia

Weekly Contest #357

Jesse Church woke at 3:47 AM with his heart hammering against his ribs. The bedroom was dark except for the pale blue glow of the security monitor—twelve camera feeds cycling through the house. Beside him, Elena breathed in the deep, steady rhythm of the unburdened.His hand reached for the notebook on his nightstand, leather worn smooth from months of anxious handling. He opened it to the latest page:November 3rd, 2:15 PM - David asked about my schedule for next week. Specific interest in Thursday evening. Why?November 5th, 9:30 AM - Coffee ...

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First loves are difficult to get over, so they say.

Lily Finch

Weekly Contest #357

The mirror caught me before I was ready.Not all at once. First, the circles beneath my eyes. Then the mouth I had pressed flat for weeks. Then the look people notice when they ask questions they shouldn’t.“You okay?”People ask that when they already know the answer.I leaned closer.This couldn’t be happening again.Years had passed.A husband. A house. A life assembled carefully enough that nothing dangerous should have slipped through.Yet there I stood staring at myself because a man who no longer was mine had crossed my mind, and my body had ...

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Written on this Stone

Melissa Roos

Weekly Contest #357

She shuffled backward across the dry, packed dirt on her bare feet, trailing her hand along the rock, feeling her way. Her back hit the wall. The stone's intense cold penetrated her thin cotton top. Despite that, she leaned against it, pressing back, sliding, sagging, scraping every vertebra as she slowly sank down. Her flesh was raw. Her pride was shattered. She was completely and utterly defeated. Knowing the ceiling soared above her, over twelve feet high, only made matters worse. Through the pitch-black, she squinted at her hands. She c...

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