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Discover weekly, the best short stories

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

150+ Suspense Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. From bizarre characters to creeping threats, this collection of suspense short stories gives you an exciting array of bone-chilling tales.

Suspense Short Stories – Page 7 of 10

Pizzazz

Elliam Archambeau

Weekly Contest #345

CW: Mental health, gore I take pride in my name. Michael. Sure, it's simple, it's common, whatever. But it's me. Some people call me Mike, some people pronounce the whole name. A couple people have unique nicknames for me, but for the most part, I am Michael. Everyone here knows me, save for the newest of the newcomers. I went to the public high school because my parents couldn't afford to send me to the private one. But that's okay, and honestly I prefer it that way. If I went somewhere else I don't know where I would be. Who I'd be. 22 yea...

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A Moment of Perfect Opportunity

Robin Butterworth

Weekly Contest #344

Changing the course of history is always a difficult undertaking, even with the ability to travel through time. My assignment will be in New York City. The crisp blue sky of 11th September 2001 will greet me from the 83rd Floor of the North Tower. I will arrive 34 minutes after the first plane had hit the floors above, and 17 minutes after the second plane hit the South Tower. The people on the 83rd Floor would have watched the second impact from the window. There will be just over an hour until the North Tower collapses. To evacuate succes...

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Jury Plane

Lily Finch

Weekly Contest #345

I stood at the airport counter holding my carry-on while the woman behind the desk flipped through my boarding pass. She stopped halfway through the motion, looked up, and said a decision had already been made:"Good morning, sir," she said. Congratulations, you’ve been chosen for a special plane ride today. Please come with me.”She slid a thin paper ticket across the counter—plain, stamped, and unsigned. Someone had paid for my airfare. My first guess was my sister. Years earlier, she’d mailed me a note and said, "Trust me," along with a pr...

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Holy Sweet Tea

Weekly Contest #345

CW: Physical violence, gore or abuse; Mental health, profane language Holy Sweet Tea There’s gravel and sand diggin’ into my left cheek. Maybe it’s rainin’ a little, just a little, but it’s warm rain. And, I’m so fuckin’ hot… Just want sweet tea. Cold, cold, holy, sweet tea...----It’s dark. I’m wet, rain and sweat, so much sweat. Feels like I’m oozin’. Hot wet. Cheek hurts – sort of. What am I doin’? Car tires grit on the road behind me. Up and behind me. Somethin’…----Where am I? I have to get up! Sweat runs across my greasy forehead. Need ...

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Four Hours

Alice Dawson

Weekly Contest #344

The desk alone tells me I’m way out of my league. I never knew a place could smell of money, but alas, here we are. The air is cool and faintly perfumed, something floral and expensive drifting through the lobby. The marble floors shine so brightly I can see the reflection of my scuffed sneakers staring back at me. "Can I help you?" A manicured woman with a platinum blonde bob peers down at me from behind the vast curved desk. Her clinical white badge says Susan. She looks more like a Vivien to me."The whole shebang," I reply.Susan’s eyes tr...

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Exit 614

Rick Jones

Weekly Contest #345

Kevin had been late getting out of Toronto and the five hour drive home to Ottawa was just half over and yet already felt ten hours long. He’d been selling steels and alloys for eight years, and that felt long, too. Highway 401 through Ontario is boring, a nearly straight shot for eight hundred kilometers from Michigan to Quebec that passes through almost nothing of interest, bypassing every downtown. There aren’t even any mountains. Not that it mattered to Kevin at this point, as it was one in the morning. The client, a blowhard, had in...

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Corridor 23

Weekly Contest #344

DOOR UN–DOOR CLOSIN–DOOR UNLOC–DOOR CLOOOSSIN– “Piece of shit box.” “Whoa, Daniels. Ease up on the controls.” Ryan scoffs, reaching past my head to yank the lever. The door whooshes shut. DOOR CLOSED I press my forehead to the frame and rap a knuckle against the small window. The metal bites cold against my skin, pulling the heat from it and dulling my temper—for now. I hate maintenance calls in Corridor 23. Something is always wrong here. “Well, looks like that’s it.” Ryan pats the control panel, satisfied. “Didn’t even have to do anything....

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Deja Vu

Crystal Hann

Weekly Contest #344

Deja Vu Thirty feet away, a stranger ran a hand through his hair and Bonnie's throat closed around something she could not name. She stood at the top of the boarding stairs with her bag cutting into her shoulder and the Pittsburgh-bound crowd pressing at her back, and every cell in her body went still. Not the stillness of peace. The stillness of a woman who has learned to pay attention to the things that stop her cold. He stood with his back to her, reading the departures board. Dark jacket. One hand in his pocket. The weight of him shifted...

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Within Tolerance

Lance Wiese

Weekly Contest #344

Within Tolerance Another day where a nightmare becomes reality, hovering between panic and retreat. Simulation day has come upon the cadets of the Academy. Everything is in order, yet a new crowd observes this time. They watch with the nervous intensity of spectators at a championship match, their presence tightening the nerves of the cadets—especially Cadet Arden Vale.It wasn’t always like this. The simulations used to be a class-only event, once every couple of months. Lately, they’ve become biweekly—stranger, more intense each time. Arden...

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The Man Who Was Meant to Die

Weekly Contest #344

Washington D.C., 1865By the time Elias Crowe first read the statements, the city had moved from shock to paperwork. Several statements from Ford’s Theater mentioned powder burns on a sleeve, smoke curling toward the ceiling, the sharp odor that clung to coats long after the shot was fired. Not the theatrical haze from stage effects, but the acrid sting of real violence, struck flint and burning cartridge paper in a nation already worn thin by war.Elias Crowe was not in attendance at Ford’s Theater on that night, two days prior. As a junior c...

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The Last Corridor

Weekly Contest #344

Night shifts in the hospital were usually quiet. Not peaceful, exactly. Hospitals were never peaceful. There was always some form of noise. The beeping of the heart monitors, the squeaking of shoes walking across the linoleum floors, the hiss of the elevator doors or a cough of a patient. It was quieter than the dayshift though, we don't have to answer families questions most of the time, nor doctors orders unless there was something wrong. The lights were dimmed, the waiting rooms mostly empty and the corridors felt endless. I had worked at...

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That Which Doomed July

Charlie C. Gould

Weekly Contest #344

That Which Doomed JulyJuly 25, 2226"Why must the sky be a sickly smog-soaked grey?""Why must the water in our clouds melt our tongues and salt our land?""Why must we accept the times our forefathers forsook us with?"A low hum shook the breakroom.The tremor shook me out of my daze as I sat straighter on the breakroom synthfur sofa, the plastic frills squeaking with my movement. The man on the screen, Senator Vael, broad-shouldered and teeth-bright, stood in front of a holographic blue sky as artificial as his veneers. I’d always hated watchin...

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The Sixth Day

Sage Alquist

Weekly Contest #344

The alarm rang at 6:42 a.m.It always rang at 6:42.Emily slapped at the phone without opening her eyes, her hand finding the screen almost before the sound began. The vibration buzzed through the wooden nightstand, a familiar insect hum against the quiet room.Silence.For a moment, she lay still, wrapped in the warm heaviness of sleep.Then something stirred beneath the surface of her thoughts.A faint unease.The kind that comes when you dream about something ordinary—your kitchen, your car, a conversation—and wake up feeling like the dream leak...

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Before 11:18

Weekly Contest #344

The dashboard clock reads 11:17 PM. Mateo notices because Zoya does. “It’s stuck,” she says quietly from the back seat. “It’s not stuck,” Camila replies, leaning forward between the seats, her voice still bright from the party. “It’s just taking its sweet time” Aaliyah checks her phone again. Three texts from her mother. No words. Just punctuation.??? Eight minutes from home.They weren’t supposed to stay out this late. The party had been harmless—a backyard, fairy lights strung across a fence, someone’s older cousin pretending to DJ. They ha...

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The Majestic Roaming of Thorne the Roosevelt Elk

Chris Morganroth

Weekly Contest #344

In the heart of the Olympic Peninsula’s lush rainforest, where ancient trees stretch their moss-covered arms toward the sky, a magnificent Roosevelt elk named Thorne roamed. His massive antlers, crowned with dignity, bore witness to countless encounters. Thorne was no ordinary elk, he was a living legend, a symbol of resilience and survival. Thorne’s days were spent meandering through the dense undergrowth, his hooves sinking into the spongy forest floor. He feasted on ferns, shrubs, and lichens, sustaining his colossal frame. The Hoh Rain F...

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