Mystery

Skating on thin Ice
People love metaphors for life, don’t they? Life’s like an onion, a rollercoaster, a box of chocolates, an ocean, a seed you gotta plant and nurture. Seriously? Fuck off! I’ve heard them all. We all have a glass ceiling to shatter. We all must stare into the looking-glass. We’re all the authors of our own novels. Well, no shit Sherlock. But, none of those metaphors are right. Do you want to know what life really is? Do you want to know my metaphor? Here you go! Listen up Forrest! Life’s a frozen pond.
By Leo Dis Vinci4 years ago in Fiction
It's Just a Frozen Pond
"What's the situation, Captain?" Colonel Jackson asked after exiting the helicopter, walking towards the vehicle. Captain Bryant responded, "Yesterday, construction workers were demolishing a small church built back in 1906. They cleared everything down to the cement foundation when they noticed the concrete was cold."
By D.J. Gallacher4 years ago in Fiction
Delusions of Deception
She stares into her reflection, yet the reflection does not resemble her. Instead, it resembles a face that's pale and long with cat-like eyes and a nose that reminds her of a bird's beak. Her hair that's black and shoulder-length, with it straight as a line, with no curves or edges. She grimaces at the reflection, a feeling of nausea rising. She blinks a few times, and the mirror reveals her true look. A round face with wide round eyes, long black curly hair, a button nose, and heart-shaped lips. She sighs in relief and washes her face with water.
By Grace Ly4 years ago in Fiction
Blood in the Water
I walked through the cruise ship with a smile. I had been waiting for this moment for over a year. My family walked in front of me. The excitement was palpable.
By Cassie Writes4 years ago in Fiction
Suburbia Dreams
In a small trinket store in an unnamed town, a globe the size of an apple sits upon a dusty table, obscured in part by an embroidered shawl and rusting jewels. Within its polished sphere tumbles flakes of crystal, although the globe has not been turned for months. Iridescent silt lines the base, and clouds of tumbleweed form, as if moved by a brisk wind. Reflected in the glass is the face of a young woman; green eyes wide, and pink lips parted. The shopkeeper dangles a candle snuffer over an open flame - but does not extinguish it - as they notice the girl.
By Rachel M.J4 years ago in Fiction
The Clumsy Little Witch
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, the parents had just gone out for groceries, and my sister and I were home alone. She was over there minding her own business and all watching tv layed out on the sofa. "Look at her." I thought to myself. "Not a care in the world and I get stuck doing the dishes because miss 'princess' over there accused me of pushing her down earlier." But that's not what happened, honest. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she won't even listen to me. All she cares about are those dumb mystery marathons.
By Britt4 years ago in Fiction
Allena Abigail Burkhardt: Part 6
She had fallen with a nauseating jolt to the stomach. Only up to her shins. Anything deeper wouldn’t have frozen over in the high country of New South Wales, but it gave her the kind of fright she should have been expecting, but was surprised by all the same. Perhaps it was that encounter with a small frozen pond as a child that made the sensation of meeting with Robert Farley that chilled morning all too familiar.
By E.B. Mahoney4 years ago in Fiction
Frozen skies
It's cold. And wet. I know. I know. It's a stupid thing to say in the middle of a frozen winter wonderland. Whatever. The hardness of the ice.
By Izzy Vee4 years ago in Fiction
Jack Frost's Billabong
The billabong is frozen. That much is abundantly clear. What is not known is how – it is summer, the minimum temperature last night was 25 degrees centigrade. The billabong should not be frozen. A group of local youths discovered it first, went to the surface to see for themselves.
By Alan Ograzden4 years ago in Fiction
A Night to Remember
I watch the moving truck pull out of its parking space below, leaving me behind in my brand-new apartment overlooking the bustling streets of New York City. It took me a few years to upgrade from being crammed in a dingy loft with three roommates to finally living on my own in the big apple. With a killer view, no less. But I finally did it.
By CJ4 years ago in Fiction
Cursed Fortune
There was a family who began as common as they could descendants of bakers and house servants during the late 1700s. They did not know that circumstances would make them wealthy and bestow great power unto them. Yet another event would bring them doom. This is the story of John Huffman son of a baker and Rose the daughter of a house servant. These two fell in love when they were quite young and held firm to that love until circumstances separated them. John went to war and when he returned to the humble Township of Weeping Bend with untold amounts of gold, silver and diamonds. No one ever knew exactly how he obtained the wealth it was just accepted that he was now a wealthy man.
By Hadayai Majeed aka Dora Spencer4 years ago in Fiction
The unknown light
The day was overcast, with the smell of distant forest fires mixed with the humidity of an unusually hot summer. The wind blew warm, heavy air into a crude wooden building that served as secret meeting place for the four children gathered there. It was time to discuss that nights mission.
By Lishka4 years ago in Fiction