Mystery
From the Headlines
BOSTON - One Roxbury man considers this past Friday the 13th to be his lucky day. Thomas O’Brien, 34, stumbled upon a mysterious package near Downtown Crossing. O’Brien, who frequents the Red Line on his daily commute, regularly collects litter to keep the city clean. According to O’Brien, Friday started just like any other day.
By Jordan Gilletti4 years ago in Fiction
Paulie Oxenfree
The sound of the lock echoed within the darkened hallway of the small apartment, the uncomfortable crack of a rough solution to a simple problem. It had been protesting as the person on the other side inelegantly tooled the tumblers into position until the lock gave up its fight and forfeited to the more persistent opponent. Despite years of experience and practice convincing his logical mind that it was an essentially consequence free exercise, this part always made him uncomfortable: stepping, uninvited, into the darkness of someone else’s home always triggered a nervousness in his belly that was a thrilling as it was nauseating. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and there was something enthralling about that.
By Shiv MacFarlane4 years ago in Fiction
Apartment 401
“Wake up!” my mind tells me, as I am partially paralyzed by last night’s activities. The Dream realm keeps pulling at my ankles, as my eyes use every ounce of its strength to open. Even my cheeks, nose and the muscles around my eyelids lend a hand towards the effort. I silently root for them to open, as the struggle to wake is my toughest opponent today so far.
By Pablo Angel Castro 4 years ago in Fiction
The Unexpected Visitor
You can’t look at the dead and see only a cadaver, Wren explained during dinner. As she spoke, Mick scrambled to make sense of her. This soft and dainty soul once screamed in a heavy metal band and surfed in mosh pits above sweaty living bodies. And while grossly opinionated about nearly everything, she returns from her passionate tangents just in time to giggle at herself for having gone on them. And then, of course, there is the unapologetic way swear words clip at the soft lull in her voice, a siren’s song to his ears.
By Jessica Hanisch4 years ago in Fiction
Who's Mystery is This?
As I look down the tracks the flickering light outlines a small box wrapped in brown paper. The edge is torn as though someone had tried to open it, but left in a hurry. I look to the left and right slowly, sending piercing looks in to the dark corners of the station. Where could they have gone? I pick up the box, which is surprisingly heavy. I think I can hear bits of metal or glass inside. Rain begins to fall like gang members intimidating me off their turf. I retreat to the covered area. I don’t think I can track down the owner of the package. Who knows how long it has been here. My car is the only vehicle at the station and there was no one when I pulled up.
By Andrew Ashford4 years ago in Fiction
A late night mystery
“Hey, what’s that?” John pointed with his chin towards a box left on the counter. Desiree followed his gaze and discovered with her own eyes the box wrapped in brown paper. It looked like one of those mafia boxes where you could find a head or some other body part inside it to send a message. However, this box was carefully packaged, it was pristine, not a smudge, nothing.
By Natalia Perez Wahlberg4 years ago in Fiction
The Cheery, Cherry Murders
Ariana Torres stood at a three-car crash site and laughed loudly. Mascara ran down her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her face. What caused her to lose her mind? People and medical staff were rushing to the scene and she just watched with a crooked smile. Her jeans were covered in blood, but not her own. The neon tank top she once picked out to stand out, was torn and shredded. It now drew attention for a different reason. She looked like she went through a war. Ariana took out a cigarette and lighter from her pocket and lit up. This is exactly what she wanted to happen that day.
By Stephanie Colella 4 years ago in Fiction
