Mystery

As old as time. Runner-Up in The Mystery Box Challenge.
The sound of creaking bones was one Henry had always thought was something resigned to story books. But the older he got, the more he realized the truth in it. That morning, as he pushed his weary body out of bed, he was more aware of it than ever. Ignoring the complaints of his joints, he forced himself into his begrudgingly familiar morning routine.
By Jane3 years ago in Fiction
The Passover Experiment
Something felt disconcertingly off that morning to Jezzy as she stared at the dark screen on her phone. The sky was bright and she listened the wind whistling between the snow laden branches and rustling trees for a long time before it finally hit her. Jezzy didn't normally notice outdoor sounds.
By Naomi Tyhurst3 years ago in Fiction
Maude
Consider this a peace offering. I hadn’t expected the text. Cher (no relation) and I had been together for a decade, which meant that our fights had developed their own routine. The aggrieved party (usually Cher), would stew about their complaint for a few days, visibly, but not talk about it. This gave the offending party (usually me) a chance to reflect on what they might have done wrong, and, if lucky, apologize for the correct injury. If this weren’t successful, then the confrontation would happen, the aggrieved party and offending party would yell. Sometimes one or both of us would break items of little value.
By Kenneth Young3 years ago in Fiction
Return Address
The midmorning breeze blew leaves around the front yard of the New England style cottage. Jo sat on her front porch, sipping her coffee like she had done every morning since she returned home. The coffee must have some form of magic warming capability because the cool weather had no effect on her.
By Shane Peterman3 years ago in Fiction
Christmas is coming, are you prepared?
Christmas is coming. I could feel a shift in the air. The coffee shop in front of our building was getting decorated with Christmas Tree. A snowman stood on the front porch and now we have new furniture that my sis forced me to buy from her online store.
By Hazel Paradise3 years ago in Fiction
Governors Retreat
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. It was just me and my secretary. I had told my wife I was going up there on business. I just didn’t tell her what kind of business.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
No good surprises
A box has arrived, but it should not be here. My doorstep is haunted by this mystery package, and I am paralyzed with fear.
By Taylor Van Zant3 years ago in Fiction
The Gift
“He was my hero.” I began the eulogy shaking my head at how cliche it sounded. He would never like this; he was never one to settle for cliches. He was known as being one of the greatest songwriters of our time, and here I am, writing the eulogy for his funeral and starting it off with a lame stereotypical cliche that would have made his fans shudder in disgust.
By Reneé V.3 years ago in Fiction
The Postman
There are days life feels so mundane I’d do almost anything to get out of living it. Well, almost anything. I suppose there are a few things I won’t do if I’m still here doing this instead. In a way, I am happy to be sitting in my kitchen on a gloomy Sunday morning–late morning, where you know the sun is hiding brightly behind the clouds but it’s out of sight because the rain is too loud. I get the chance to hear each drop pitter-patter on my tin roof, along the walls. I am in awe every day of these simple delights; like coffee in my cup and a newspaper to thumb.
By Lolly Paige Lennox3 years ago in Fiction
McCallister's Gift
McCallister’s Gift By Derrick L. The touchtone keypad at the front door chimed behind Alistair’s ears as the sound of the electronic lock disengaged. The scrape of metal on metal echoed as the door latch slid across the strike plate. The thump of polyurethane boots clunked against the linoleum floor; someone was standing in the threshold of his home.
By Derrick L.3 years ago in Fiction
Drone in Deepwater. Second Place in The Mystery Box Challenge.
1894 In Deepwater, the night was reserved for idle contemplation. While the frogs croaked and the crickets chittered and the thick, dark water lapped against the reeds, Sadie lit a candle and her husband, Frank, smoked a pipe.
By Bella Nerina3 years ago in Fiction
What Is This Crap?
I hope they catch me, I really do, so I can explain my motive in a rational, informed manner. I’m not crazy, you know. To catch me in act, however, someone would have to look over my six-foot fence to see into the backyard, and who is going to do that? Not sure why I’m so paranoid about it. I stopped for three years. Why did I start again this season?
By Joel Lippert3 years ago in Fiction