Mystery
The mystery package
After graduating high school, young Lillian signs for her first apartment. In an effort to avoid any drama following her into her new life, she opts not to tell very many people about her new place. She shares the news and address with her family, cousins and her best friend Tina. She is nervous about leaving home and being on her own, though she is also super excited to be starting the next chapter of her life. Her brother and dad help her on moving day, they spend the majority of the day encouraging Lillian to branch out and try new things as she ventures into the next part of her life. Everyone knows this is the next step for her, including Tina, who planned to come over the next day to help her unpack and decorate her new apartment. The next steps everyone comes face to face with can be daunting to say the least, especially when people are young.
By JPWrites.23 years ago in Fiction
"I Know Who Killed Me"
The snow came down in wet, grimy sheets, somewhere between frozen and liquid; on a night like this, the whole city seems to be in mourning. I am, certainly, because the pretty girl on the news, the sixth victim of the "subway ripper" is my friend. Was my friend. Alyssa was the kind of girl that everyone loved, but few people talked about; when her body was found, so disfigured that they had to use the ID in her wallet to find out who she was, people came out of the woodwork from all over the city. Her funeral was standing room only, but that didn't help. Nothing helped.
By S. A. Crawford3 years ago in Fiction
Residuum
My heart is pounding in my throat as my feet rise, sink, and slide across the sandy beach. He is gaining on me. I cannot look behind me. I cannot afford a mistake. Should I chance the water? It’d be hours before I could reach the next shore across the grand lake. And it’s getting dark. I scream but no one is around to hear me. Or perhaps they are hiding. Better Edith Wallows than us. I can’t blame them. Had someone else been ensnared by the Carver, I would count my blessings that it wasn’t me. But here I am. Desperate and running. Several times I attempt to run towards the town, but each attempt seems to prelude his advances. He is so close. I will not escape this. I make another diagonal run and the sand proves too much for my feeble physique. My feet sink and slip. This time I fall forward. It’s all I can do to turn my body and raise my arms to shield myself. The butcher knife comes down. The doorbell wakes me in a sweat.
By Kaitlyn Gilpin3 years ago in Fiction
Box Spirals
Today it's one month since I started journaling to cope with my thought spirals. Have I gotten any better at identifying my triggers? Maybe. Have I gotten any better in a general sense? Doesn't feel like it. As if to celebrate the milestone, something phenominally-fucking-freaky just happened. So, here I vent.
By Rebekah Conard3 years ago in Fiction
Dani-lion
”Mavis! We have to leave in 2 minutes! You have 120 seconds to finish getting ready!” I scramble around the kitchen putting away the milk, the orange juice, hastily rinsing dishes to put in the dishwasher before we run out the door. “You have like, 70 seconds Mavis! Are you hearing me?” I can hear little feet scrambling around the wood floors above me.
By Kristen Marie3 years ago in Fiction
Two Lefts to Nowhere
Claire There are a lot of people out there who say that life is unpredictable. What most people don’t realize is that life itself isn’t what’s unpredictable, it’s everything in life that’s unpredictable. You drive home the same way every single day, and one day a car blows the red light and t-bones you. You have chicken for dinner every Monday night, and one week you get food poisoning because that one chicken was infected with some bacteria from somewhere along its journey.
By Kristen Marie3 years ago in Fiction
The Lost Gardens of Stourhead
ACT I Lottie was strolling the gardens of Stourhead. Social gatherings were something Lottie would actively avoid every time one would occur. She hated how her family, aunts, cousins, and uncles, would cramp into dark overcrowded rooms stuffed to the brim with terrible friends and horrible quiches. Rooms full of people she hardly knew, old faces she hardly recognised. Yet, was expected to talk to them as if they had been in her life every single day since her birth when of course, they hadn’t been. She knew they didn’t care what she said, what she did or what she looked like they were going to judge her regardless. She knew these gatherings were for bragging and not catching up. A competition for the most attention. She had wondered if they had realised she was absent and then concluded they probably hadn't noticed. They were all too busy talking about themselves. She, on the other hand, was a ghost of the living. Misguided and alone with a lot of unfinished business; victories to be won, and lessons to be learned in defeat.
By Rosie J. Sargent3 years ago in Fiction
The ordeal
I stood outside my apartment enjoying the fact that it was a warm enough day, despite the fact that it was approaching the end of November, the sun was shining warming the mild breeze that was in the air. I had gotten into a project, just a simple one that would barely take up five minutes of my time, then I would be heading over to visit a friend who lived a few blocks over.
By Timothy E Jones3 years ago in Fiction
