Mystery
Mystery's Circus: The Lost
Mystery’s Circus: The Frost Prologue Pt3: An Icy Bond Mystery: “Welcome back everyone! I hope you are as excited as I am to get back to the show! Strange that this is still the prologue, right? Well, there’s a good reason for that, but that reason isn’t important to explain right now. Don’t worry, this should be the last of the prologue…maybe. Depends on how long this next section is. In any case, let’s not waste any more time and get right back to the show! Enjoy! And yes, I know the title is a pun.”
By Koby Bradley4 years ago in Fiction
Freed from the owl
“That incessant noise! Is it ever going to stop?”, said Boor as he treaded round the room in his fine silk pajamas, the last ones he had. He was living in an old abandoned house, that at some point in its long existence served as a barn, a chemical factory and many more. The building changed with every owner. Now, it was little more than a pile of rubbish. The attic was the only habitable place in the house, every other room has either been burned down or was locked up. “Every single night at the exact same hour, never letting me sleep. What is this? A mad house! A mad house, I tell you”. He opened the bleak-colored curtains with a forceful, almost aggressive tug. The ceiling beams creaked in response. No one was there to look back at him, save for the lonely pine on the hill. “I can’t believe this! Where are you hiding, you little rascal?”. Boor started pacing once again, in front of the small wooden window, rubbing his unshaved face. “Stop! Just stop already!”, he shouted while grabbing a fistful of cloth from the curtains. His bloodshot eyes scanned the grounds outside in hope for a giveaway on the sound’s whereabouts. It sounded like an owl, but there were none to be seen out there. The sound creeped him out, making the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up. This wasn’t his first night and still, the sound was too much to bear. It moved his marrow, shook his bones, twisted his insides.
By eternal_sun4 years ago in Fiction
Wide-Eyed
Startled at the sudden commotion Owen grabbed for the lamp, raising it up high to better see the intruder. Was that an owl up there that had startled him so? Just a damned old barn owl? As the creatures will, it had found a high, unnoticed hole where time, weather, and woodpeckers had worn away at the rough-board siding. The nosy thing had rustled it’s feathers through the tiny opening and then secreted itself away into the highest, deepest-dark rafters. Only the gleaming eyes of it were left to see, the rest having faded magically into the shadows. The dimness of the lantern's light reflected back down from those eyes sluggishly, as distant light reflects from across the heavy, black water of a stagnant pond. His hand trembling, Owen re-hung the lantern on the exposed end of a 2x4 joist and set back to work, trying his best to still his racing heart, and to ignore the owl's unsolicited intrusion.
By Charles T. Morris4 years ago in Fiction
Battle Scars
Seven years have passed since I started witness protection. Seven years since I’ve able to recognize the girl I used to be. Through the years I’ve gone from blonde, to brunette, to red, and back to blonde. I cannot even look in the mirror and remember what my hair was. My mom tells me I used to have the whitest blonde hair she’d ever seen. It reflected well with my pale, almost clear blue eyes. They are my most distinguishing feature, so of course I have to hide them. “Colored contacts are your friend,” they tell me. As if saying that makes it any easier to hide another piece of who I am.
By T.J. Johnstone4 years ago in Fiction
Memoir of The Last
The boy felt warmth spreading from his digits to the tips of his toes. No, not just warmth. He was burning up, indisputably. His weak eyes opened and looked around to find himself in a bedroom in a house, but not his house. Hardly able to move, the boy pulled the thick quilt up to his nose and took a couple of sniffs. Everything around him was unfamiliar. Though, he couldn’t care less at this point. He felt like he’d be better off dead anyway if his kin would toss him aside. He shut his eyes, falling back into a deep sleep from the sound of harsh winds hitting the walls outside. Not soon after he fell asleep, he awakened again. But this time, a cool cloth was put on his forehead with liquid slipping down his temple, and a woman was sitting at the desk he hadn’t noticed before in the corner of the room––busy with something in front of her. Oddly, something made the woman turn around to check on the child. She smiled kindly at the sight of his open eyes, even if he was just blankly staring at her.
By Chiharu Mei4 years ago in Fiction
The call of Death
Do you know what blood smells like? Not just a tiny cut, oh no, I'm talking 1.2 gallons of free-flowing blood that pools around a body. The way not only the sight, but the coppery scent makes your stomach twist with disgust. The metallic taste it leaves in your mouth when you take a deep, swift inhale.
By Meag Verst4 years ago in Fiction
Dark Dig 16 - A Battle Royal
A Battle Royal Todd’s squad strategically took positions in the shadows near the entrance they were assigned. Their heads-up display showed a cluster of red dots around the area believed to be where the cult leader was. There was rapid movement from one room down the hall. Todd suspected it was their communication center and there were people rushing back and forth with new messages. He reported this to the commander and got confirmation that it was indeed a com-center and team one was assigned to take it out.
By Bruce J. Spohn4 years ago in Fiction
