Mystery

ayuda. Top Story - September 2025. Content Warning.
“ayuda?,” a soft voice knocks on the gates of my sanctuary. a modest plea from the other side of my mental fortress; opposite my walls, locks, moats, and more walls of security after security within my thoughts.
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Fiction
Maurice Needs a Vacation. Top Story - September 2025.
The knock at the front door came in four evenly spaced out, but equally distinct, thumps. “No,” said Maurice from the kitchen table. He spooned another bite of Captain Crunch into his mouth and chewed loudly.
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Fiction
Ditched and Cleaned
In the morning after the botched romantic night, while getting ready to go to work, Brad said to Emily, “Babe, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I should have told you about the allergy. I just thought that since it’s so rare and I never buy anything with rosehip I didn’t really need to.”
By Lana V Lynxabout a year ago in Fiction
The Bells of Saint Aurelia
In the quiet hills of southern France stood the ruins of Saint Aurelia’s Abbey. Long ago, it was a place of prayer and devotion, its bells famous across the valleys for their rich, beautiful chime. Villagers said the monks timed their lives by those bells—the rising of the sun, the call to prayer, the solemn toll for the dead. But one stormy night in 1624, the bells rang louder than ever before. The next morning, not a single monk remained. Their beds were empty, their robes neatly folded, as if they had stepped out of their lives and vanished into thin air. The bells fell silent, and for four centuries no one dared to ring them again.
By Wellova about a year ago in Fiction
The Unintended Exchange
The insistent chirp of his phone alarm sliced through the pre-dawn quiet, dragging Alex from a surprisingly vivid dream of flying saucers and existential dread. He slapped at the bedside table, silencing the incessant noise, and groaned. Monday. His least favorite day, made even more unbearable by an 8 AM lecture on quantum mechanics – a subject that consistently made his brain feel like a scrambled egg.
By Alpha Cortexabout a year ago in Fiction
The Missing Ledger
In the small town of Millford, Ohio, where the days blended into one another under a canopy of maple trees, 38-year-old Ellen Porter arrived in the spring of 2025. After years as an accountant in Cleveland, where the city’s noise and pressure wore her down, she’d taken a job at Millford’s town hall to escape the grind. The town was unremarkable—neat lawns, a single diner called Betty’s, and a library that doubled as a community center. Ellen, with her practical mindset and reserved nature, wanted a life with less chaos, even if it meant embracing boredom.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Fiction
The House on Black Hollow Road
On the outskirts of rural Bavaria lay a house the locals never mentioned. It stood on Black Hollow Road, hidden behind gnarled oaks, its roof sagging and its windows like dead eyes. Generations ago, a family lived there—until, one winter, every member disappeared without a trace. The house had been left to rot ever since. Travelers who wandered too close spoke of lights flickering in the upper windows, though no one had lived there in over a century.
By Wellova about a year ago in Fiction
What Was Said. Content Warning.
He had done the presentation and asked if there were any questions, and he took a few and answered them perfectly. He knew his presentation had been close to perfect; he didn't know how not to aim for total perfection, but he knew others were not as conscientious in their work. He only had one way to do it.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Fiction
🌾 The Little Lamp in the Village
In a quiet valley surrounded by rolling green hills, there was a small village where life moved slowly and peacefully. The houses were built of clay and stone, with wooden doors and straw roofs. Each evening, when the sun began to set, the air would fill with the soft fragrance of cooking fires, and the sound of children’s laughter echoed between the narrow lanes.
By Muhammad Riazabout a year ago in Fiction
Fractured Reflections. Runner-Up in Parallel Lives Challenge. Content Warning.
Bowel movement, shower, dressed for the day ahead. Toast, marmalade, of course. Coffee, black, indubitably. Doom scroll for ten minutes before grabbing my wallet and keys. Out the door to, out the driveway for 9.30. Plenty of time to get across town to my employers.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
Stagnant Waters
Special Agent Thomas J. Beeman stood at the edge of the brackish green backwater, looking over his surroundings. Taking a deep breath of the humid, putrid-smelling air, he almost gagged. The Mentholatum that he normally used to cover crime scene smells didn’t seem to work here. It appeared the stench of death and decay was one he’d never get used to.
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Room with No Windows
When Farhan moved into the old house his uncle had left him, he thought of it as a blessing. The house stood at the edge of town, its walls cracked but sturdy, its wooden floors creaking under each step. It needed repairs, but it felt like a place where he could finally be alone and focus on his writing. Everyone in town warned him about the house, muttering that no one had stayed there long. He laughed it off. Old people and their ghost stories, he thought.
By Wellova about a year ago in Fiction