Mystery

A Universe Removed
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But someone did. Or, some thing did. It heard us screaming out into the void for answers. It listened to us casting our calls out to see if we were alone in the vast emptiness of the universe and it decided to respond.
By Will Helgren/Ochal3 years ago in Fiction
Off Her Rails
She slowly opened her eyes. In a dream-like state, she could hear a faint song. “Is that ‘Runaway Train’? So odd, I haven’t heard that song in years.” Amelia reflected to herself. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she let the light stream in. To her amazement, she didn’t recognize anything around her.
By Nykkole Myers3 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Room with Yellow Curtains
The image comes to my mind every once in a while, it comes when I have nothing to think about, especially when I'm making coffee. The reminiscing smell of the laundry detergent makes my nose scrunch up. It's might be from the hot water used to brew the beans, which seemed overroasted.
By nostalgia.radio🪲3 years ago in Fiction
The Black Spire Sting
Five hundred meters, six hundred, eight. The protective goggles display alternated between the altimeter and the date and time. Radiating green, January 6th, 2020, and 0100 hours flashed bright enough to dry the tears in my right eye. While my left remained an afterthought of no bodily concern, not anymore. It would be a good idea to adjust the brightness, but a heavy heart sank deep in my chest - there is no time for that now. A buildup of strain begins to seep through to the corners of my skull, increasing along with the altitude, another symptom of pre-job jitters. My inner monologue suddenly voiced itself, a sign that my limits have been tested, or maybe, a sign that something is about to go wrong.
By Derrick L.3 years ago in Fiction
The Trappers pt. 2
"Ma'am. Please state your full legal name." "Maggie Park." "Your legal name." "Oh, Maggie Trapper. Sorry, I haven't used Trapper in a while." "Please state your current address." "807 Wakehurst St. New York, NY 10029." "Do you live with anyone else?" "If you count Flo, my Golden Retriever, then yes! If not, then no." "What is your current marital status?" "Technically, legally, on paper, I'm married." "Please state your spouse's full name." "Officer, I don't understand why you need to know my husband's name." "Please answer the question, ma'am." "But we're not together anymore. He's no longer in my life." "Just answer the question." I hate remembering my husband. I hate the fact that we were ever married. I hate that this dumb officer is wasting my time and asking for a man's name that I no longer have an attachment to. I hate this. I hate all of this. It's so early. I'm tired, hungry and upset that he doesn't even know our history. History... His story... What about my story? Doesn't anyone care about my story? Why doesn't anyone ask about my sto- "Ma'am! I'm gonna need you to answer the question!" I looked at him shocked that he raised his voice at me. After a little staring contest with this dumb officer, I finally answered. "My husband's name is Joel Trapper." "Do you know of a man named Asher Gonzales?" Asher? Did something happen to him? Is he in trouble? He wouldn't do anything bad. He's the best guy, the kindest guy you'll ever meet. "Yes, I do. Is he alright?" I was genuinely concerned. Honestly, I was concerned about all of this. I didn't even know why I was called in here. "We called you in today because you are a suspect in the missing case of Joel Trapper, your husband." "Joel? Joel is missing? What are you talking about?" "I received a call from Precinct 9 in Maine 2 days ago informing me that a man named Joel Trapper had gone missing. The last time he was seen was with a man named Asher Gonzales having dinner with him at a restaurant in Portland, Maine."
By Jessica Kim-Patterson3 years ago in Fiction
To Kill or Not To Kill
TO KILL OR NOT TO KILL The Threat Oh No... Donna’s voice trailed off as her coffee mug shattered onto the floor. Terry, with a concerned look on his face, said, "what is wrong?
By Dan Bryant3 years ago in Fiction
The Climate Cooperative
The first thing I remember was a warm, pulsating pressure on the back of my head. With immense effort, I opened my heavy eyes, quickly surveying my surroundings.
By Scott Reed3 years ago in Fiction
The Walter Experiment
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.… “You are as hateful of my surprise as your friend, Mr. Fang.” Detective S took it upon herself to get in his car without his permission, the beginning of her intrusions into his peacefully isolated day.
By Willem Indigo3 years ago in Fiction
Last Train to Tomorrow
Steel on steel, screeching and careless and so attuned to its own power and might, there was no room left for the fear now held within its walls.
By Joe Luca3 years ago in Fiction
Patriots. Expatriates.
The white china cup clattered against the serving plate as the train hit a soft bump. He stared glassy-eyed as the coffee within swirled. Mountains flitted by his window, their gray dominance only interrupted by the lush green landscape at their base.
By Matthew J. Fromm3 years ago in Fiction
Nightmare train
I Awoke with a start I looked around my vision was blurry as I tried to take in my surroundings. I was in pain I put the back of my hand to my mouth "was that blood?" Finally my vision was clearing up I was shocked "am I on a train? I asked disbelief.
By Craig Maxwell3 years ago in Fiction
Platform 8
It was a dark cold night in the middle of a harsh winter, there was frost on the ground and crystals glistened on the bare branches in the moonlight. I had missed the last train back home so was now stranded on the platform waiting for the next early morning train, it was going to be a long wait. At the station there was a small wooden building which used to be a ticket office, it was now abandoned with broken windows which have been boarded up with old planks, and there was one door into the building with a worn sign above the door reading platform 8, it was locked so I won’t be able to get any shelter from the bitter cold. There is a lonely bench on the platform covered in frost, I considered sitting and try to get some sleep but somehow I didn’t think I would get any sleep with how cold it was, there is also something about this station that always gave me the creeps, it was a quiet platform in the heart of the countryside surrounded by trees with a single road going to and from the station, I think the station was about 100 years old , and everything was aged and worn, there are old rickety wooden fences running along the platform with icicles hanging on the remaining few panels that wasn’t missing. In the summer it was very beautiful with bushy green full trees and every variety of flower you could imagine, but in the winter, it was very different, the nights drew in quick, and it always reminded me of a classic horror movie with the bare trees as far as the eye could see. It was deadly quiet not even a bird or cricket could be heard, I suddenly felt even colder at the thought of how spooky it felt standing here completely on my own, so pulled my scarf up round my neck more.
By Lisa Horn3 years ago in Fiction