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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

150+ Mystery Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. No need to go out hunting for clues — you’ve solved the puzzle of where to find the newest mystery short stories just by landing on this page.

Mystery Short Stories – Page 3 of 10

The Solitary Solitaire

Antonino Giannetto

Weekly Contest #339

I couldn’t take her anymore. She asked stupid questions. Selfish questions. Inappropriate questions, like; “Why are you still single? Are those real? When are you having kids? You look horrible, are you okay? How much money do you make? Where are you actually from? Why don't you drink? Did you plan It? Isn't that a little expensive for you? You are so quiet, why don't you talk?”As much as I wanted nothing to do with her, I couldn’t shake her. There seemed to be no getting rid of her. She knew my secret. She knew she had one over on me. The f...

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The Last Page: Every Debt Is Remembered

Garrett Dunn

Weekly Contest #338

I sat in the quiet of my study, the last page of my latest book open in front of me. A copy of my “masterpiece.” My hands hovered over the spine, hesitant. Soon as I closed it, the applause in my mind faded. I had stolen this story. Not in some petty way this was someone else’s life, their pain, their rise and fall. I had reworked it, polished it, sold it to millions. The world called me brilliant. I called myself careful. I remembered the man behind it all. Introduced to me through a friend of a friend. The man everyone whispered about. *Th...

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Custodes Liminis

S. D. Lowe

Weekly Contest #338

BABETTE“I’m sorry, but you’ve missed office hours,” the professor muttered, the words dulled by habit, “and while normally I’d be more than obliging, it’s exam season. I said in class, I don’t do last minute meetings with no warning when it’s the week before our final.”Professor Zieliński, who allowed her students the mercy of calling her Dr. Z rather than attempting her name, had been certain she heard someone enter. When no one answered, she blamed age, stress, the building’s tendency to creak like her arthritic spine. She bent over her de...

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The Matchmaker

Scott Speck

Weekly Contest #338

The MatchmakerI opened the Collected Works of Edgar Alan Poe and began to read. Near my chair, a large iron radiator creaked, hissed, and smelled of heat. Basking in its prodigious output, my toes had thawed and were now toasty warm. At my feet sat a packed lunch and a thermos of hot tea, but it was still early – ten o’clock – as I plowed through “The Telltale Heart” on my way to “The Cask of Amontillado.”On this snowy winter morning, I had enjoyed a mug of strong coffee with a big breakfast fry up before bundling up and trudging through the...

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The Scroll

Weekly Contest #338

The day was coming to an end, and I was looking forward to settling in with a hot cup of tea and a book. I kept checking my watch and looking over to the door for any final stragglers that might wander in. I was accustomed to this, but so far today was a quiet day, with few people visiting the local library.The minutes ticked by like hours, as I rounded the desk and picked up the paper work I needed for tonight. As I reached the door my heart sank. Of course he would come in right at 6:59.Like clock work, he could be depended on to arrive ri...

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The Eye

Weekly Contest #338

He received another rejection email from another job. But this email had an unprecedented effect. Halfway through reading, the young man began to feel his brain pulsating against his skull. The pain in his temples quickly blurred his vision. Seconds later, the headache subsided. He rushed over to the bedside table, grabbed the pack of Marlboro Reds, and flung open the kitchenette window where he lit his cigarette. The homeless were camped out by the bridge with the cold breeze carrying the stench of their tents to the young man’s nostrils. T...

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Murder Mystery

Weekly Contest #338

“Lethal dosage of acetaminophen – 50 or more tablets. Washing it down with alcohol may increase effectiveness.” Susie was muttering as she leafed through the book, taking notes as she went. “That may be the easiest solution to get hold of. Then claim the symptoms are flu until the liver shuts down.” She sat and looked at her pages of notes on common poisons and how easy they were to obtain, and pros and cons of each for murder. She was a 50-year-old woman with wild hair, dressed casually in jeans, a faded Ramones T shirt and brightly colored...

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Among Ordinary Spines

Weekly Contest #338

She found the book while doing something ordinary and routine during her library shift. A Friday afternoon, a return cart now half-full, the library quiet enough to hear the building breathe. The book was thin, cloth-bound, the color of old slate, and when she turned it over, eyes sliding to where its barcode should be, there was none.No stamp.No penciled initials of ownership.It sat there among its neighboring books as if it belonged, which somehow made it worse. She knew that sometimes people accidentally left their own books at the librar...

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With A Little Help From Skippy

Michael Jefferson

Weekly Contest #338

“I know I should have told you about the alligator!” the patron shouts into his cell phone. Frances Fassel puts her finger to her mouth, whispering, “Ssh.” Anyone who looks at her can guess right away that Frances is a librarian. Five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds, her brown hair is cut in an unattractive pageboy, she has buck teeth, and she wears black plastic-rimmed glasses. Frances has been the head librarian at the Shrub Oak Public Library for so long that the kids call her Frances Fossil. She rearranges the magazines as the pri...

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The Borrowed Margins

Weekly Contest #338

When Layla eased open the London Library’s weighty glass door, warmth met her before anything else. Not heat, exactly—more a breath of old paper, faintly sweet, faintly dusty, like a kettle just boiled in a room that had learned patience. St James’s Square fell away behind her with a muted thud, and the hush rose up—calm, practiced, as if the building had been trained to lift a finger to its lips.She had come for one thing. Quiet.Her editor’s last email would not leave her alone. Your prose is beautiful, but where’s the risk? Where’s the thi...

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THE BOOK THAT CHANGED HER LIFE FOREVER

Rhonda Wilkinson

Weekly Contest #338

THE BOOK THAT CHANGED HER LIFE FOREVERTitle PageTHE BOOK THAT CHANGED HER LIFE FOREVER A Short Story by RhondaleeDedicationFor every woman who has ever felt lost, tired, or forgotten — may you find the spark that brings you home to yourself.Author’s NoteThis story was born from a simple idea: one book, arriving at the right moment, can change everything.Mia’s journey mirrors the quiet transformations many of us go through — the moments when life feels heavy, when hope feels distant, and when something small cracks the darkness open.May her a...

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The Avignon Palimpsest: The Testament of Brother Aldric, Anno Domini 1348

Weekly Contest #338

As discovered in the Papal Library at Avignon, transcribed from the margin notes of a palimpsest, whereunto this poor scholar’s confession was inscribed in letters so small as to escape notice for six hundred and seventy-eight years. 3rd of September, 1348I have been a faithful servant of Our Lord for thirty-two years, and in that span I have touched the sacred word made manifest in vellum and ink some four thousand times. I have scraped clean the profane, that the divine might be written atop it. I have illuminated the margins with such dev...

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Do Not Touch

Gunay Ahmad

Weekly Contest #338

Ali entered the home, took off his shoes, and left his keys on the table. After a long night shift, he wanted to rest. He took a shower and had breakfast. It was time to sleep already, but at this time, his friend Samir called him. He heard his friend’s agitated voice:-Good morning, Ali. I need you urgently. You need to cover for me at the library. My girl Jessy had an accident. I am going there.-Ok. I’m coming.Ali took his keys, slipped on his coat, and dashed out the door, locking it behind him. He stepped down quickly and crossed the corn...

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Keepers of the Thread

Melanie Lee

Weekly Contest #338

She didn't mean to open it again. The book was already in her hands, already headed for the slot, already returned in her mind. She'd even promised herself she'd stop borrowing things that made her feel too much, old songs, old stories, old words that tugged at something behind her ribs like a hook. But standing under the weak yellow light above the libraries after hours drop, she felt the weight of it shift. The cover creaked when she cracked it open, the way old bindings complain when you ask them for one more thing. She flipped to the ins...

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Cleared for Redevelopment

Marjolein Greebe

Weekly Contest #338

The museum always smells different at night.During the day it smells like school coats and impatience, like warm dust and cheap perfume. Now—five minutes past five—it smells like wax, stone, and something older that never quite leaves: metal that has forgotten what it was forged for.I stand alone in Gallery 4, keys heavy in my palm.“We’re closing in ten minutes,” echoes softly from the ceiling speakers.I don’t answer. I never do.The voice isn’t for me anyway. It’s for people who still believe museums are about seeing.The last visitors shuffl...

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