Mystery

Silver Lake
A small wooden cottage in the middle of the forest next to a large frozen lake. In front of the cottage, there’s a Tree House built on a huge ancient live oak hiding in the fog. There’s a soft light coming from inside the Tree House. The trees exhibit a rich range of colors from deep greens and dark reds to bright oranges and intense yellows. The sun is going down and the last rays of light are touching the ice water, the tree leaves are softly casting a shadow from the darkness that is slowly but surely taking over. A sudden crack is heard coming from inside the tree, it’s getting louder and louder. Then, a scratching sound fills the trunk from the inside and echoes in the riverside. The door of the Tree House opens slowly, a young woman holding a lantern peeks out trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.
By Bianka4 years ago in Fiction
The Wrong Suspect
It starts as a quiet day, drinking coffee and reading the paper on a fall Sunday morning. Before I know it, I need a shower and have started smoking again. My quiet Sunday morning, long in the rearview. I'm now dealing with flashes of the grotesque that occur each time I blink. My questioning should be short-lived. There's little reason to think I need to get a confession out of the girl's father. Leaving her in the squad room to wait for her grandparents, I go to visit with daddy.
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Fiction
The Mysterious Duchess of Lavender
The pretty lady who lived in the old Victorian manor at the end of the street was always seen wearing black. The skirts and dresses varied in length however all were black. On occasion she would be seen wearing a white blouse or some other color blouse or top underneath her black blazers and other black jackets. Her face was pale with very high cheek bones, medium size lips and huge eyes. She was considered quite beautiful by almost everyone who say her. Her very green eyes actually emerald green eyes sparkled like jewels. Her lashes were long and full. When she blinked her lashes looked like butterfly wings flapping in the wind. This made her very youthful appearance more noticeable.
By Hadayai Majeed aka Dora Spencer4 years ago in Fiction
Lyric's Lessons in Magic And Mayhem
*Who are you?* My name is Lyric. *That's fun. I like it.* My mother thought it would be cute to name me this, because she loves music. I hate it. I do love her, but she's a bit of a flake. Mom has this idea of a utopia where everyone can be happy. I ask her every time if she ever watches the news or picks up a paper. We will never all be happy. There is too much war, too much hate. It’s ugly out there. This old house is the only safe haven.
By L R Croft4 years ago in Fiction
I See You
A soft thin wind made the fog on the water dance and curl into different random shapes in the early dim morning. This is my favorite time to come out.
By Malena Lopez4 years ago in Fiction
The Warm waters in the Winter Winds
He left Isabelle’s house in disgrace that night. Her husband was home a night earlier than she cared or remembered to mention. Ian was left in a dire situation, it was mid-November, and in his rush to escape the husband’s wrath he had left his coat at Isabelle’s house. He looked back for a moment at the house. Staring at the giant flagpole that greeted anyone who visited or even passed by this house in West Baldwin. The Triskelion proudly displayed on a red background; the flag was flying easy with the early winter winds begging to pick up speed from the ever-strong Late Autumn winds. It was 22:00 and therefore pitch-black outside. Ian had to make the hour long walk from West Baldwin towards his house share in Little Switzerland. He could only wish that his house in Little Switzerland was anything close to this guy’s house. Isabella had driven them both to her house, with her car being worth more the house Ian was renting a room in. The husband’s car was more valuable than everything Ian had ever owned or earnt combined.
By Some Guy4 years ago in Fiction
The Swamp
Dense fog encloses around Julia as she closes the doors of the library. She barely shivers, for the fog is hardly unordinary: a swamp settles beyond the town’s boundaries, snug in the center of a sodden forest. The emission of heat from the swamp’s core often sweeps into the atmosphere, eventually fleeting through the forest’s fingers to engulf the town in a deep haze. Travelers unfamiliar with the area would find the thick mist unsettling, but the townsfolk have learned to live amongst it.
By Cassandra Hanson4 years ago in Fiction
The Disappearance of Sam
Sam was a man who was intrigued by the many facets and intricacies of nature. He loved to travel and see the beautiful lands, animals, seas. He loved to record his travels and discoveries. He was so fascinated with everything nature and loved to sit and watch his many videos/pictures of where he had been and all of the wonderful things he had seen.
By Noëlla 4 years ago in Fiction
Men Without Hats
The two men arrived sometime past eight. They pushed open the diner doors and paused. Dressed in dark brown suits and Trilby hats. Their faces stone-like, their hands gnarled by years of toil. They’d worked machinery. Greased and oil-stained, they had swung sledgehammers, lifted heavy steel pipes. Their fists had busted jaws and broken things.
By Octavio Quin4 years ago in Fiction
Stuck in the Headlights
Warm fingers gripped my arm in the darkness. I didn’t want to turn around, but I couldn’t help myself. I swung my body around faster than I meant as I got a good look at him. He was eerily tall and wore black sneakers like mine (I couldn’t help, but notice). He had a black hoodie that covered most of his face, but I could see the hint of a smile and a bit of short brown hair peeking out of the top of his hoodie. I wanted to scream, but no words came. I tried to rationale my thoughts. Maybe he was just lost or needed to use my phone.
By Ashton Brown4 years ago in Fiction
The Suitcase. Top Story - November 2021.
I began to move closer to the double sided mirror, drawn to the distance behind her eyes. I wondered if she could see me studying her, searching for any ounce of dishonesty that would reveal the answers we longed for. Her deep blue eyes posses a compelling emptiness. Sandy’s monochromatic teal suit is stained and yet, she begins to smooth her untidy curls into a neat bun.
By Taaj Bowers 4 years ago in Fiction
Quinnie's Days Part 2
After seeing her mother's face on the news, learning she was dead. Gone. Quinnie crumpled into a ball on the floor. She dropped the phone with her sister Mia still on the line. Sobbing, Quinnie grabbed the phone.
By Kylie Hunnel4 years ago in Fiction