Mystery
Stitch:The Alpine Crimson
The biting, sub‑zero wind howling across the Swiss Alps didn’t just freeze the skin; it carved straight into the bone. For miles in every direction, the landscape was a blinding, desolate canvas of white and jagged grey peak. The winter air was so thin it felt like breathing shattered glass, carrying nothing but the lonely roar of the wind and the constant threat of an avalanche.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
Stitch: Winter Freeze of '96
The regional BMX track outside of Orlando was a chaotic, dust-choked ring of adrenaline and family friction in late October of 1996. The heat was sitting at a sweltering ninety-two degrees, the thick Florida air smelling heavily of fried concessions, melting tire rubber, and copper-rich dirt. Ted sat on a folding lawn chair near the starting gate, a pair of dark aviators hiding his critical gaze as he watched the brackets warm up. Next to him, Lisa was meticulously organizing the cooler, ensuring the sports drinks were perfectly packed in ice.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
Stitch. Out of Season
After four weeks of trying to stitch herself back into a life she barely remembered, Sara Foxgrave starts to realize that whatever followed her home isn’t done with her. Maine is supposed to be safe. Normal. Predictable. But when a summer flower blooms in the dead of October, Sara learns that reality has no intention of staying in its lane.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Fiction
Nothing To Lose Part 8
Unable to find their second victim, Jonas and Danny split their focus, and Jonas ends up in a dangerous situation. Part 8 Footsteps echoed through the building, bouncing against the vaulted ceilings as the sounds rose from the marble floors. There was only one person sitting in a pew. An older woman, come to pray for her ailing husband. The priest was at his altar, working on a sermon and barely acknowledging the door to the church opening. He looked up, just long enough, that he could see that it was Michael. Father Michael had returned.
By Jason Mortonabout a month ago in Fiction
Kiley's U-Pick
Earthy, rich hues gleam in the sun: golden with deep brown centers, red with a cherry-black center, and some rusty, fading to yellow, with a burnt-toast middle. The sunflowers' vivid colors cause traffic jams on the country road. The dwarf ones sit near the road, and taller varieties grow behind them. The six-foot chocolate cherry sunflower is her specialty. The plants stand like sentinels in the fields, faint breezes encouraging them to dance in stunning displays.
By Andrea Corwin about a month ago in Fiction
The Carousel Opened in February
The carousel should have been asleep. Everyone in Bellweather knew that. From October until Easter, the amusement pier belonged to wind, salt, and gulls. The ticket booths were boarded shut. The arcade machines stood unplugged behind metal shutters. The roller coaster collected rain in its empty seats. Even the painted horses on the old carousel were wrapped in gray canvas, their bright mouths hidden from winter.
By Alain SUPPINIabout a month ago in Fiction
Final Service: Samhain. Top Story - September 2026.
The All Hallows Supply Co. appeared between the payday-loan office and a vape shop on the first Thursday in June. It caught Rhea's eye because she had become the kind of person to scope out empty storefronts. For months, she had driven the same commercial strip to stare longingly at the unit she had finally signed the lease on a week prior. It wouldn't be long before the old abandoned sandwich shop had a new name and life. Cinnamon buns the size of a wrestler's fist would be displayed in the front window, and the smell of sourdough would enchant the small town. Lemon squares and salted caramel cakes would sit behind the glass, and become responsible for at least five pounds of carb-related weight gain for the people of Blackford.
By Autumn Stewabout a month ago in Fiction
Just a Taste Part 14. Content Warning.
Ch 14: Reward Dylan December 20th, 2024- Woodside Motel- 9:20 PM Isabella awoke, although barely, from her hypothermic slumber. Her eyes were glassy; partially unfocused like an exhausted child, or maybe a human-like doll. A startling appearance to behold, but at least she's alive.
By Rain Dayzeabout a month ago in Fiction
