Mystery

The Unboxing
It was such a tiny thing, the box. The drone that dropped it off wasn’t much bigger, it looked like it could barely hold the envelope that came with it. The only reason George saw it was because of the large white envelope that was settled on his ‘Come in, We’re Dead’ welcome mat. One of the many leftover holiday decorations that he didn’t bother to change. What was the point, after all? The magic was gone.
By Erin W M3 years ago in Fiction
The Mind-Bending Box
I was chilling with my wife Danny when the box arrived at our doorstep. It was nighttime, and we were lounging on our sofa, watching TV. Game of Thrones was playing, and as Daenerys Targaryen torched the would-be slavers with the aid of her dragons, I absentmindedly reached over and twirled a finger around Danny's hair. She turned around, smiled, and playfully swatted my hands aside.
By Alvin Ang3 years ago in Fiction
In the Backseat
Ingrid sat, as motionless as she could, in the passenger seat. Her dress and hair were still crinkled and wet. The rain hadn't stopped once that day. She tried to make herself small and not noticeable. She had never seen Mark that angry before.
By Julia Sinton3 years ago in Fiction
Mailbox #7205
I flip the package over a few times to see if any other marks or indications may give me a clue as to what's in it and who sent it. Whoever it is must know me well to send it via a non-traditional method; drone, and with no postmark, return address, or stamps. The clear wide tape covers the end and back seams, giving me the impression that someone took their time wrapping it. The package is light and feels like nothing is inside, and I shake it to listen; there's a slight rustling sound but little to no movement of whatever is in there. My intrigue and curiosity play at the edges of my imagination as I eye the package.
By Shannon Lemire3 years ago in Fiction
Wishing Ribbon
Grandpappy Mason never did like technology, and the day the package came by drone — it nearly sent him ass over teakettle. You’d think a man like him growing up in the middle of nowhere Appalachia would be used to seeing all sorts of strange birds and creatures, but the second he spotted it, he leapt from his rocker and started swinging at it with his cane like it was a hornet’s nest after him. Even Gamgam thought he was crazy, and she had a little flip phone to call me when I had to take her to Walmart and their doctors’ appointments.
By Lauren Girod3 years ago in Fiction
As I Had My Morning Coffee
The woman looked out the window which faced the next row of townhouses. It wasn't much of a view most days, but this morning she was transfixed by the giant caterpillar crawling up the brick wall in front of her.
By Cassie Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
A Strange Mysterious Package, Indeed!
You’re a thirty-three-year-old woman named Breanne, still living in the home you grew up in. Not in a cute hallmark way. But in a way that says, ‘I went to university, and it took me six years to graduate because I couldn’t decide on a major, and now I make $50k working as a graphic designer and can’t afford to live on my own in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) or pay back my student loans.’
By Kendra Marya3 years ago in Fiction
Three Minutes to Midnight
There wasn't anything particular about tapping at the window. Vanessa heard it most nights, earlier in the summer. The tapping was from the bare, bony knuckles of the branches outside her childhood bedroom window. The branches were heralds of cooling air.
By Julia Sinton3 years ago in Fiction
Truffles
I am sitting in my cramped apartment office tallying last night’s receipts. Revenues had been on a steady climb when I opened La Petite Café in 2019. It had been voted best new bistro by the Niagara Cuesta Times. And then, COVID. I refuse to be yet one more restauranteur whining about the devastation to the industry as a result of government-imposed indoor dining restrictions and the closing of the border. My café’s impending demise pales in comparison with being seriously ill or losing a loved one. I know because my mother was taken from me in 2020. A Highlander, she had always been the rock, the strong one, but COVID did not care. It snatched her from me in her early sixties. It was little consolation, but she left me a small inheritance. With those dollars and occasional loans from friends, I have eked out an existence these past couple of years. With the mandatory testing and quarantining, this past summer was slower, relying heavily on the locals and Ontario tourists, who fortunately were restless after two years of “house arrest”. Canadians are peripatetic and the café benefitted from their wanderlust. Finally, in October all the border restrictions are lifted and the tourists from Western New York and beyond return, drawn in part by grape harvest festivities. Thanksgiving holiday for Canadians gave an additional boost with Columbus Day (or Indigenous People’s Day) school holidays in the United States provoking family visits to the falls followed by a drive north to Niagara-on-the-Lake. This is where I make my home and business, where the Niagara River dumps its millions of gallons into Lake Ontario.
By Alexander J. Cameron3 years ago in Fiction
Dark Bee The Soul Of Envy. Top Story - April 2023.
1906, Isle of Wight (United Kingdom). Your sister Harriet has brought you with her on a trip to The Isle, which in itself is quite exceptional. Used to living inland, you are now surrounded by sea. Besides, your family could have never afforded to come to this prized resort, with its micro-climate, baths, soft yellow sand and beautifully trimmed grasslands renowned for its beehives. A beautiful picture indeed, were it not for your sister's husband, Wilbur. The boat trip was rocky, at least by your terrestrial standards, although your brother-in-law made a point of clapping your shoulder with a condescending "Stop whining so, Leslie, the sea is calm today!"
By Claire Guérin3 years ago in Fiction
The Woman Initiative
The loud, metallic rapping on my front door sent me skyward. I nearly hit my head on the open kitchen cabinet above me. I had been on edge for a while now, with no explanation as to why. Things had not been exactly ideal between my husband and me, but that wasn’t unusual.
By A.W. Naves3 years ago in Fiction
A Made to Order Getaway
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin, unaware we were being observed. The howling wind outside drove flurries of snow across the windshield, masking the pristine terrain which normally greeted us.
By Kenn Lyon3 years ago in Fiction