Mystery
7464 in the New Year
"No! For the last time I absolutely will not donate the ottoman!" Cade slams the door in the face of his neighbor, who had been hounding him for weeks to donate to "the best charity on the block". He'd already sent four bags right after Christmas. He needed something new, something that stirred him out of this after-holiday funk. Commotion outside drove him to open his door again and he peered outside. Nobody on the porch. No sound in the street. But a shadow in his peripheral made him spin around. It was one of those silver drones, which seemed too big to be flying around where kids were playing. It whizzed past his head, barely missing him. He ducked, but by the time "Hey!" could come out of his mouth, it had changed direction and disappeared. He couldn't find anyone, even though he walked out to the street and peeked down the alley. A small box KER-PLUNKED onto his perfect grass. There was no need for a front yard anymore, but he still liked to keep it immaculate. He tried to open it, but there didn't appear to be a lid. There was something written on the bottom, a string of numbers. "Two, Two, Three, Dash, Six, Four, Six, Three," he read out loud. Someone must have meant to pass this to their friend and couldn't learn a simple instrument like a drone. He typed in the numbers to his phone, trying to see if they were connected to something familiar. It might be a phone number. But no luck. Maybe a code? He tried putting in letters in place of each, starting with B as 2. BBC-FDFC. Nope. He picked up the box and looked at each corner and all the edges. Definitely no opening, but there did seem to be letters here, scrawled in a light pencil, like someone tried to erase it. "Song" was the word, if he read it correctly. Just then, the phone rang.
By Hannah Marie. 3 years ago in Fiction
The Typewriter
Looking through the junk in the house clearance, he wondered what it was. The only keyboard he had ever seen was virtual, on his phone, tablet and computer. He had never seen or even been aware of physical keys but this was an odd contraption with physical keys and he set it on a table.
By Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred 3 years ago in Fiction
Dark Vessel
I am dragged onto the dark ship with no fear stirring in my belly. I know I should fear this vessel and be terrified of the big black sails and the smell of tar and stardust dominating it. The Dark NebulaI is a ship feared by all but not by me. No, I am taken away by the beauty of it. The fact that something so evil is so beautiful. The dark black wood with strands of silver blood flows through its dark helm, making the ship come alive with mysterious dark power. The sails are covered with immense feathers that shine in the moonlight. The feathers are in many shades of black, yet all equal to their darkness. However, the crew did not match the beauty of the ship. They look as if they have crawled out of the cave they have been trapped in for centuries. With thick layers of dirt that crumbled off them as they walked, their clothes torn and their faces distorted. The only neat thing they have on them is their swords that glisten in the moonlight. I make it to the deck, and above me stands a dark figure. I don't even have to guess who it is. It's the captain.
By Amber Zajec3 years ago in Fiction
Jewel of the Classroom
“Hello, and welcome back. I hope you all read chapter four,” I said, greeting my criminology class. They nodded. “Alright, pop quiz. Who was Wise Guy? I know you already know the answer to this, Jesse, you can put your hand down. How about, Sarah,” I said. Jesse crossed his arms and smiled. He was the smartest student in the classroom, but also had the biggest attitude. I wanted to make sure the other students were learning, so I didn’t always have him answer.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Case - Chapter 7
The streets were silent as I slowly passed through them. I watched people come out of their buildings and walk mindlessly towards their work or to their cars, like they were on autopilot. I could see many others gripping their steering wheels tightly, too tightly in some cases, and smoking one puff after the next in rapid succession. These people were stressing themselves out about their day’s tasks before they had even begun, and for a moment I felt better about my situation. As strange as things may have gotten, at least I’m not stuck behind some desk crunching numbers repeatedly for the sake of some corporate overlord who doesn’t even acknowledge my existence as anything but an asset to him, or a drain on resources to be removed if I’m not profitable enough.
By Georges-Henri Daigle3 years ago in Fiction
Cloudfall II
This is a continuation of my story "Cloudfall" I went to bed, hoping to sleep but could hear windows being smashed along the street, hoping that my house would not be a target. It was like this every night and I really did not know how long I could go on like this.
By Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred 3 years ago in Fiction
