Mystery
Changeling; Chapter 7
Everything hurts and everything is blurry. I think I can see black spots. I can definitely hear voices. I manage to lift my hands to my eyes, attempting to rub the fog from them. My muscles groan in protest, my arms feel so heavy it seems like a minor miracle I can keep them in the air as I rub my eyes. It takes a second for me to realize that my hands aren't bound. By the time I do, the voices have gone silent.
By Katarzyna Crevan16 days ago in Fiction
How to write a Paradelle Poem. Or how to weave puzzling verses of Spells.
🌒 What Is a Paradelle Poem? A paradelle is a modern poetic form invented by former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins - not as an ancient French form, but as a parody of strict formal poetry. Collins originally presented it as an eleventh‑century French form, but later revealed it was a joke.
By Antoni De'Leon16 days ago in Fiction
The Last Light on Maple Street
The bulb flickered like it was having second thoughts. I stood under the streetlamp on Maple Street at 11:47 p.m., December 28, 2025, hands shoved deep in coat pockets, breath fogging in the sharp cold. Everyone else had gone inside hours ago — holiday lights dimmed, curtains drawn, the neighborhood folding itself up for another year. Only this one lamp stayed awake, the same one that had been here since before I was born, buzzing faintly like an old man muttering to himself.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin16 days ago in Fiction
Caretakers: Part 1. Top Story - December 2025.
-------- Author's Note ------- Before going any further, I would like to give a quick heads up. I'm trying something a little different with this story. In the past I've lost momentum writing longer pieces. But, this is a story I've had brewing since 2018 and I think in order to get it out there, I'm going to release it in chunks. I'm not sure how many we'll end up with but what you're about to read is a mystery/thriller set in the same town as a previous story I wrote, "Blue Heron Creek". Thank you for giving this a read and... be careful when you check into Mercy Regional Hospital... The morgue doesn't have the only thing rotten...
By Sandor Szabo16 days ago in Fiction
THE FLOWERING OF THE STRANGE ORCHID
The buying of orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavour. You have before you the brown shrivelled lump of tissue, and for the rest you must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer, or your good luck, as your taste may incline. The plant
By Faisal Khan16 days ago in Fiction
The Birthday Party That Broke the Pattern
Introduction Some children collect toys or stickers. Sarah Peterson collects patterns. Numbers, letters, names, dates — if it fits, she notices it. If it matches, she loves it. And when her tenth birthday lands on the tenth day of the tenth month, she decides her celebration should be as perfectly arranged as the world she treasures. But even the most carefully planned day has room for surprise, and sometimes the unexpected guest is the one who changes everything.
By Margaret Minnicks17 days ago in Fiction
