Fiction
Businesswoman Chapter 27
“Why does everyone feel we need to have a ‘Business Signal’ to go up in the air when we have smartphones?” Lisa asked. Loreen spoke plainly. “It’s because they’re looking for a cape, super powers, or a utility belt. All we have is reason to defend ourselves and aid other entrepreneurs.”
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Chapters
The Chronicles of Lost Key (Chapter 4)
Alina wiped her tears and looked at Mr. Mufid, determination glinting in her eyes. “If my mother left this key to guide me, then I need to follow where it leads. But what about you? What’s your role in all this?” Mr. Mufid gave her a knowing smile, his gaze softening. “I’m just a keeper of forgotten sounds, but sometimes the sounds I keep call out to those who need them. That’s how I found you, Alina. Or perhaps, how you found me.” Before Alina could respond, the melody emanating from the jar shifted. The melancholic tune was now layered with a new sound a faint hum that resonated deeply, almost like the rhythm of a heartbeat. The golden key in her hand vibrated softly, and a sudden warmth enveloped her. “What is that?” Alina asked, clutching the key. Mr. Mufid stepped closer to the jar, his expression grave. “This sound… it’s different. It’s not just a memory. It’s a call.” “A call to what?” “To something that’s been waiting for you,” he replied. “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.” -They walked in silence through the cobblestone streets until they arrived at a small, dimly lit shop tucked between towering brick buildings. The wooden sign above the door read The Keeper of Forgotten Sounds As they stepped inside, Alina was struck by the strange yet comforting atmosphere. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of all shapes and sizes, each glowing faintly and humming with unique sounds. Some were soft and melodic, while others carried sharp, rhythmic beats. From behind the counter, a man with silver-streaked hair looked up. His piercing eyes met hers, and a faint smile crossed his face. “Mr. Elian,” Mr. Mufid said, his tone respectful. “I brought someone who might need your help.” Mr. Elian studied Alina for a moment before speaking. “You carry a key,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But it’s not just any key, is it?” Alina hesitated, holding the golden key tighter. “It was my mother’s. She left it for me.” Mr. Elian nodded knowingly. “And the sound in the jar it called to you, didn’t it?” “Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t understand why.” Mr. Elian gestured toward the shelves. “Each jar here holds a sound tied to a memory, a moment, or a person. Some are light and joyful, others heavy with sorrow. But the jar you brought it’s unique. It doesn’t just hold a memory; it’s connected to something larger, something waiting to be unlocked.” Alina looked at the jar in her hands, the melody now mingling with the hum of the shop. “What does it mean?” “It means your journey isn’t just about finding your past,” Mr. Elian said. “It’s about uncovering a truth that’s been hidden for far too long.” Mr. Mufid stepped forward, his voice gentle. “The golden key isn’t just tied to you, Alina. It’s tied to this world, to the stories of others who’ve lost and forgotten. It’s a bridge.” “A bridge to what?” “To the echoes of the forgotten,” Mr. Elian replied. “And perhaps, to a path that can change everything.” As the night deepened, Alina felt the weight of her journey settling over her. The key, the jar, the sounds all of it seemed connected, but the answers still eluded her. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the pull of the golden key, nor the strange sense of purpose growing within her. “Where do we go from here?” she asked, looking at the two men who had now become her unlikely guides. Mr. Elian exchanged a glance with Mr. Mufid before speaking. “There’s a place one that holds the answers you seek. But it’s not an easy path.” “I’m not afraid,” Alina said firmly. Mr. Elian’s smile returned, faint but genuine. “Then the journey begins at first light.” As Alina prepared to leave the shop, she glanced back at the shelves filled with jars, their sounds blending into a quiet symphony. For the first time in years, she felt a flicker of hope. The key in her hand was more than a relic of her past it was a promise of something greater. And as she stepped out into the night, the melody from her jar followed her, a constant reminder that the echoes of the forgotten would guide her to the truth.
By Faisal Zucker 2 years ago in Chapters
The Chronicles of Lost Key (Chapter 3)
The theater was eerily quiet as Alina held the golden key in her trembling hands. Its intricate design glimmered faintly in the dim light, as though it carried a life of its own. Mr. Mufid stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the key, his expression a mix of curiosity and knowing. “This key,” Alina whispered, her voice catching. “It feels... familiar.” Mr. Mufid nodded slowly. “Keys like these are not random. They carry pieces of us our past, our truths, even the things we’ve forgotten.” Alina looked around the theater, her memories of childhood flooding back. She remembered sitting in the front row with her mother, their laughter echoing through the grand hall. The golden key seemed to pulse in her hand, as though urging her to unlock something deeper within herself. “Why would it be here?” she asked, her voice barely audible. “Because this place holds part of your story,” Mr. Mufid replied. “But the key is only the beginning.” As if in response to his words, the jar Alina had brought began to hum again, its sound soft but insistent. She placed it on the stage, and the hum grew louder, resonating with the golden key. The air seemed to shift, heavy with unseen energy. “What’s happening?” Alina asked, stepping back. Mr. Mufid knelt beside the jar, his hand hovering over it. “The jar is responding to the key. They’re connected pieces of the same memory, perhaps.” The hum grew into a melody, soft and melancholic, filling the theater with a haunting tune. Alina’s breath caught as she recognized the melody. “It’s my mother’s song,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “She used to sing it to me every night.” Mr. Mufid glanced at her, his expression gentle. “Then this memory isn’t just yours. It belongs to her too.” The melody seemed to guide them, leading Alina to the backstage area. Dusty curtains and forgotten props littered the space, but at the far end stood an old piano, its keys worn and yellowed with age. Alina approached it slowly, her heart pounding. “I remember this piano,” she said. “My mother used to play it here, after the shows.” As she touched the piano’s surface, the golden key in her hand grew warm. She hesitated, then inserted it into a small, nearly invisible lock on the side of the piano. With a soft click, a hidden compartment opened, revealing a bundle of letters tied with a faded ribbon. Alina picked up the letters, her hands trembling. “These are addressed to me,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. Mr. Mufid stepped closer but gave her space. “Sometimes, what we think is lost is simply waiting to be found.” Alina untied the ribbon and unfolded the first letter. Her mother’s familiar handwriting filled the page, and as she began to read, the melody from the jar softened, blending seamlessly with the words on the paper. *My dearest Alina,* *If you’re reading this, it means you’ve found the key—and, perhaps, a piece of yourself. This theater was our home, our sanctuary. But it also holds secrets I was never brave enough to share. The key will guide you to the answers I couldn’t give. Trust it, and trust yourself.* Tears streamed down Alina’s face as she clutched the letter to her chest. “She knew,” she whispered. “She knew I’d find this someday.” Mr. Mufid watched her quietly, his presence steady and reassuring. “And now you have a choice,” he said. “You can leave this as a memory, or you can follow where the key leads next.” Alina wiped her tears and looked at him. “
By Faisal Zucker 2 years ago in Chapters
One Husband Too Many
He was late. Jake had fallen asleep before setting his alarm for 6:15 a.m. When he woke to find himself slumped in the recliner with the TV still blaring, he didn’t feel much like going to work. He had less of a hangover than usual but still wished he had some ‘hair of the dog’ on hand. He’d started his report on last night’s murder, but quickly realized he didn’t have enough information to move any further on it. He’d have to make a few stops today to get what he needed.
By Marie McGrath2 years ago in Chapters
Glass Winter | Chapter IV
Sevt insisted on moving quickly. Quinart believed they should at least take the victims down from their gallows. After searching the neighbouring houses for tools more reliable than a dirk, the two men set about cutting the nooses with bedding placed underneath for soft landing. An hour later saw all of the deceased arranged in the centre of the plaza. With no time for a burial, the company decided on cremation, using the bedding as kindling with Sevt’s light stick setting it all ablaze.
By Andrei Babanin2 years ago in Chapters
Glass Winter | Chapter III. Content Warning.
Despite travelling together by sled for over two days, Quinart still only saw Sevt as a mystery. He might have already known everything there was to know about the man, perceiving his insolent grit and perseverance. And yet there was a secrecy about him. Quinart no longer dreamed of any tangible vision save for a timeless darkness between his waking hours, but he could not recall the dancing lights causing such distress as they now did for Sevt. His sleep would be restless, awaking with violence to wander beyond their resting site before returning to bed an hour later. Quinart might have better explained the prophetic disposition of dreams in a place like this. Probing Sevt the following morning on what had disturbed him so would only result in dismissive remarks.
By Andrei Babanin2 years ago in Chapters
