thriller
What Does It Take Courage For You To Do Or Not Do?
“Sorry, but I am afraid,” Georgia said pacing around in the park as Sherry sat on one of many concrete benches. Sherry coaxes, “Just go in and pick up the red bag on the floor beside the table at the window. You will be paid.”
By Annelise Lords about a year ago in Fiction
It Was To Be Expected
The shock of the fall was still on Mother‘s face when I found her at the bottom of the stairs. If only she had been plucked discretely by the Reaper, with no knowledge of the end—not that losing her would have been any easier; just that, perhaps, my skin would have crawled a little bit less. She lied limp on the expensive Italian marble floor. Her eyes—blue like the lagoons on our last trip to Tahiti—were open, looking up as if searching for a way out. I pulled down the hem of her night robe to preserve her dignity. This one was her favorite, white with dark blue lilies—her family’s beloved fleur de lys.
By Lily Séjorabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes of the Heart: A Love Reborn
A delicate breeze stirred through the trees as Aiden and Lily strolled one next to the other, rucksacks thrown over their shoulders. They had been companions as far back as they could recollect, sharing youth chuckling, school tasks, and presently, the intriguing progress to school life. Both were overflowing with expectation, anxious to meet new individuals and face the difficulties that looked for them.
By Hashimoto Tashisabout a year ago in Fiction
270 Anonymunity
Time again. The PSAs said so. Having dodged the COVID and flu bullets the previous year, I wondered if it was because of my immunizations. The literature says it prevents a percentage of infections. Was I just lucky? Had the shots really protected me from these infections?
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Page
Sarah fought her way through the unyielding sheets of rain that fell on the cobblestoned avenues of Oldtown, her umbrella just barely preventing a downpour from soaking her to the bone. The charming narrow streets and the dozens of centuries-old buildings had always made it an enjoyable place to stroll, but tonight, something about them felt oppressive. Memories of stories about the haunted old library at the end of the street with its ghostly wordsmith crept up her spine, making her shiver.
By Nazmul Hossainabout a year ago in Fiction
Jolt
It was bright cold day in April and the clock was striking thirteen. Something had happened, a small thing. Barely a flicker across the vision. Faces, places, food, a weapon? A strange scent, a ringing in the ear. Names, words, gasps, sighs, regrets? Barely a feather against the skin. Clothes, fingers, lips, freezing wind, a knife?
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
