Mystery
The Empty Box of Everything
The Hallway Tariq stopped dead in his tracks and placed his suitcase on the carpet. His flat stood before him and the communal lobby was well kept, but cold. The keys in his hand pointed at the door like a gun in a heist, but the pull of the trigger had been halted by the discovery of a small, cardboard box in the middle of the floor. Tariq eyed it with apprehension. His parcels were usually planted firmly against the wall. This one sat in the middle of the foyer. Exactly in the middle, as though it had seized upon the optimum point of espial. It could see all walls, doors and corners and none of the furniture had dared to stray near it. The box was deserted by all other matter and abandoned by rationale. Where it sat, a square zone of emptiness surrounded it. A realm to which it did not belong, but a realm to which it was now King. And Tariq had invaded.
By Matthew Curtis3 years ago in Fiction
Eli's Project
Dee got back in her car and then turned left out of the shipyard. The Park was less than ½ mile down Middle Harbor Rd, on the left. As soon as she turned out of the Shipyard, she saw all the flashing lights. The metal bar gate, with its PARK CLOSED sign, was blocking the entrance drive, but an OPD officer was standing there to let official vehicles in and out. From the gate, Dee could see half a dozen squad cars, Sgt. Collins SUV and the Coroner van all parked on the paved circle around the huge metal pole that was the Oakland Mast. The Park Rangers were even here to close down the Park from the public until the Crime Scene could be processed. The main piece of equipment present was the huge firetruck, parked in the grass directly in front of the Mast, with its ladder fully extended. A large white sheet hanging from the end of the ladder blocked whatever was on the top of the mast from view. On the other side of the paved circle, there was a Parks and Rec bucket truck, and she could just make out the slim form of Sundae's partner Mike Rollo, in the bucket up there to the left of the giant sheet. She assumed he was up there snapping pictures and taking samples. Dee pulled into the small parking lot nearby, got out, and walked over to where the Alameda County Coroner, Dr. Harperson, and her boss, Sgt. Collins was standing on the paved circle, necks craned back, intently watching whatever was going on up there behind the sheet.
By Angela Mabry3 years ago in Fiction
Eli's Project
The LAPD had a reputation for misconduct and mishandling of cases. In Detective Madera “Dee” Segura's opinion, it wasn't because of bad officers. You can't judge all the apples on the tree because of a few rotten ones on the ground. In the 15 years, she had lived and worked in L.A, she had seen a lot of horrible things, but she had made friends and allies in the Force. Decent officers just trying to do their job, just like her. Then she moved to Oakland. She didn't necessarily want to leave the LAPD, but the transfer had meant a promotion to Detective and a bit of a slower pace. Of course, Oakland had crime, and horrible things happened here, same as anywhere else. It came down to a matter of scale. Los Angeles had 3.9 million residents and almost 10,000 officers. Oakland, in comparison, only had about 434,000 residents and 750 officers. There, she had been just another Badge, lost in the crowd; here, she could have a career and make a good name for herself. Away from the dark stigma of the LAPD.
By Angela Mabry3 years ago in Fiction
"Final Masterpiece in a box"
Somewhere in NYC, Amber Thorne threw splashes of fushcia and clementine at an canvas with the mood of a frustrated toddler. She wasnt getting anywhere and she had five hours left. She had been so engrossed in her futile attempt of working an artistic miracle, that she would have missed the sound of the doorbell had it not been for the sudden ending of her “inspirational” playlist. Putting down her paintbrush, Amber made her way to her front door, glad of the sudden distraction. She opened it and looked out to find no one there. Confused, she leaned her head out, turning it to the right and and left. No one was in the sight. Those stupid middle schoolers up to their antics again. As she began to come back inside, her foot hit something solid. Looking down,it was a box. It was like any other box that Amazon or UPS delivered. Brown, and plain looking. Had to be a mistake Amber concluded. She didnt remember ordering anything as of late. Probably was her neighbors, They were often mixing their packages up with hers. She would take it over to them after she finished her art piece. If she finished it that is. Her agent wanted a piece by the end of today. Based on shitty work she kept producing, Amber had a very strong feeling that wouldnt be happening. Bending down, Amber picked it up. Surprise flickered across her face when she found it to be as light as a feather. Especially for the size it was. It was a medium size box. Big enough for a toddler or puppy to fit in. Having more important things to do, Amber shrugged and brought it into the house. She closed the door amd walked over to her art area, dropping the box on the table as she passed by. It was then that she saw it. And when she did, an uneasy feeling came over her. Written in a fine script was her name. Amber Celine Thorne. The font reminded Amber of a fancy wedding invitation. It was disconcerting to see on such a plain package as this one. What the hell? thought Amber. Who would send this? Without touching it, Amber's eyes roved all over the package looking for any clues as to where or who it came from. There was none. No address, no label. Just her name. Anxiety leaked into Amber like a dripping faucet. Was it a bomb? She took her cell phone out of her pocket. She should call 911. Let the police and Bomb Squad deal with it. As she began to dial, hesitation swooped in. What if it was just a prank? Or mistake? She would have called authorities for nothing. They would look at her and just see the Black crazy artist who was probably high on some “recreational” stuff. The mere thought of her neighbors and the police looking at her with suspicion and stereotypical judgment was enough for her to close the phone. NOPE. She took some deep breaths. She would handle this herself. She was a college educated grown woman. She could handle this. All she had to do was open the box. That's it. It was a stupid prank probably... Everything would turn out fine… Yet, she couldn't get herself to do it. She reached for it only to quickly pull her hand back as if she got burned. Something wasn't right. But like most, curiosity gnawed alongside her uneasiness like a dance partner. Moving in tandem with her amounting anxiety.
By Jamelia Johnson3 years ago in Fiction
The Mysterious Gift
I apply the final touch to the small Christmas tree, then switch on the lights. The tree is only small, but as a newly single mother, it is all I can afford. I observe the two small bags of wrapped presents under the tree there aren't many, but I know that Charlotte and Rose will be grateful for them. There are only three presents each in the bags, that is the price families pay nowadays for being on a low income.
By Carol Ann Townend3 years ago in Fiction
Tesseract
Theo chewed thoughtfully, contemplating whether or not to spit out the poorly heated lasagna when he heard the drone whizz by. Odd. He wasn't expecting a package today. He'd already received his meals for the week, and he had no need to order anything, his home perfectly stocked with every want and need to last a lifetime. The perks of over-thinking.
By Kelly Robertson3 years ago in Fiction
Charlemagne's Game
A cold current wakes me. I slowly open one eye to see who disturbed the water. Just an angel fish looking for food. I open the other and adjust myself to match the coral I’m leaning on. I haven’t seen any sharks since I was put in this tank, but I know better than not to expect one. That’s what I learned when I was little and lived on the reef.
By Georges-Henri Daigle3 years ago in Fiction
