Mystery
Faceless Night [Part 3].. Content Warning.
*** The man remembers, fifteen years ago. Before he truly understood the curse. He walked among the lips of the pier, scavenging through the pile of trash left by the passengers. He found nothing except for the foaming ocean water. Then, his two pearl eyes fixated on a mother carrying her child on her left arm, and a bag of fresh fish on her right hand. His drool dripped, his eyes sharpened, and his long tail waved as a signal that he found his target. His paws stuck closer to the edge of the pier, and he leaped into the big ship that had just docked. The ship's anchor protruded from the surface of the sea that started to turn reddish in the reflected light of sunset. The big ship departed, leaving its city behind. The city filled with narrow alleys, where he always ran to avoid being hit by broomsticks. Narrow alleys that had trash cans at each end, where he scavenged for food. The cat meowed and sniffed on the third floor deck of the ship, sharpening his sense of smell to trace the fresh fish aroma brought by the mother. It was complete, just five meters in front of him. The mother was sitting on the passenger seat, nursing her child. Now, he just had to wait for the pitch-black night. It had been an hour and thirty minutes since the ship sailed calmly on the moonlit sea. Some passengers grouped themselves according to their age order. They suddenly greeted each other, getting to know each other, telling their origins and ethnicities. The elderly were busy discussing their youthful days, while the young people joked around while humming night songs. It was not as dark as expected. Now the cat took a higher spot, on the roof of the third floor deck. He still caught the scent of fresh fish, guarding it not to be lost. His trick turned out not to be as easy as wagging his tail, which now just lay flat, stroking his hungry belly. He sat, gazing into the distance, occasionally looking up to let the moonlight's bias dip into his pearl- like eyes. He meowed loudly, asking the clouds to cover the moonlight. "Meeeooong...!" Suddenly, the passengers fell silent, momentarily stopping their activities. They were quiet not because a cat was meowing on the roof, but because the ship's speed slowed down when the captain turned the steering wheel to make a turn. Then, from a distance, there was a faint sound like a trumpet. There were other ships across the port. The lights of the ships sparkled like fireflies, lining up and shining along the beach's lips. Confirming that the destination was close, a destination to another city. The cat squinted, its ears perked up, sharpening its hearing. Restless, the fish might not be eaten. It leaped and ran towards the deck, keeping an eye on the passengers' area. The fish bag was still there, among the rows of long benches. It was time for dinner. Nobody cared, not even the owner who had already fallen asleep with their child. The cat crept among the slouching passengers' legs, finally getting a big chunk of fresh fish. It sharpened its claws, clawing at the bag until it tore open. The cat was angry because the ship was slowing down to dock, and the bag was still intact. It bit into the bag, its fangs piercing the surface. It tasted the fish's fat mixed with its own saliva, and continued to scratch at it. But then the mother woke up, finding her child urinating, peeing on the black fish bag. The cat, now wet with urine, was trying to steal the fish.
By Shafa Ichwanus2 years ago in Fiction
The Midnight Carousel
The Midnight Carousel Rain pattered lightly against the rusted archway of the old fairground, whispering secrets through the weeds. Ava stood at the carousel's edge, still hypnotized by the way its faded horses glowed under moonlight. The soft, golden hue didn’t come from electricity—it pulsed like a heartbeat.
By Drone Waves2 years ago in Fiction
How Can You Create a Gripping Crime Story That Keeps Readers Guessing?
How Can You Create a Gripping Crime Story That Keeps Readers Guessing? Chuck Morgan, Crime Fiction Author It's necessary to craft an interesting crime story that captivates your readers and keeps them on the edge of their seats. By intricately weaving suspenseful twists, well-developed characters, and intriguing plots, you can create an unforgettable narrative. In this post, you'll discover effective strategies to engage your audience, evoke their curiosity, and ultimately deliver a riveting tale that lingers in their minds long after the last page. Prepare to probe into the elements that make crime stories not only riveting but also unforgettable!
By Charles E Morgan2 years ago in Fiction
The Castle That Glowed Brighter
Every night, the castle’s windows glowed, though no soul had entered in decades. Locals in the sleepy town of Fairhill, Virginia, say it’s cursed—that the Whitmore family vanished without a trace in 1892. No signs of struggle. No blood. Just empty chairs at the dinner table and a music box playing a slow lullaby from the attic. For over a hundred years, no one dared step inside. But last week, a thrill-seeker named Dev Brody did. He wasn’t local. Dev was a popular live-streamer from Denver who specialized in abandoned places. His YouTube channel—GhostChaserDev—had over 600,000 subscribers, most of them hungry for the next adrenaline-soaked adventure. He’d slept inside ghost towns in Nevada, explored forgotten amusement parks in Ohio, and once camped in an old slaughterhouse in Texas. But Whitmore Castle? That was a different beast. It was infamous. Even skeptics gave it a wide berth. So when Dev posted a teaser video from Fairhill with the caption, “Going in tonight. If I disappear, tell my mom it was for the views,” his fans went wild. The live stream started at 10:33 PM. Thousands watched as Dev approached the iron gates, flashlight in hand. “Okay, gang,” he whispered, panning the camera upward. “No lights yet. Just creepy silence.” But seconds later, the glow began. First one window. Then three. Then the whole east wing lit up like someone flipped a switch from inside. “Dude… this place is alive,” he whispered. Dev climbed the fence and crossed the lawn, boots crunching over dead leaves. He pushed open the heavy door, which creaked like it hadn’t moved in years. The entryway was massive—dusty chandeliers, velvet curtains, and portraits that seemed to follow him with their eyes. His followers flooded the comments: “Is this real?” “That’s a 19th-century baby stroller. Get OUT.” “Bro, this is wild." About ten minutes in, something changed. The lights inside flickered—one by one—as if someone was guiding him. Dev followed, nervous but grinning. “Alright, someone’s messing with me. Gotta be staged. Right?” Then he heard it. A music box. The sound floated down from the staircase, the same lullaby rumored in town folklore. “Okay,” Dev whispered, voice trembling. “I didn’t bring that. That’s not part of the plan.” He climbed the stairs. The music grew louder. At the top was a long hallway lined with closed doors. The camera shook slightly as Dev’s breath quickened. “This is the part in movies where people die,” he said, half-laughing. Then came the voice. Soft. Childlike. Too close to be imagined. “You finally came home.” The stream glitched. The camera fell to the ground with a thud. For two seconds, viewers saw a glimpse—something tall and thin, standing at the end of the hall. Its eyes glowed like glass. Then black. The stream cut out. At first, everyone thought it was a prank. A planned cliffhanger for views. But hours passed. Then days. Dev didn’t come back online. Local authorities found his rental car parked outside the castle. His gear bag was in the trunk. Phone gone. Camera missing. No signs of forced entry. No signs of Dev. Just the castle. And its glowing windows. Fairhill police marked the area off-limits. The mayor called it “an unfortunate accident.” But everyone in town knew better. Because something changed after Dev entered. Now the castle glows brighter. More windows. More light. Like it’s awake again. Some say Dev’s still inside, trapped between rooms and whispers. Others believe the castle was waiting—for someone bold, someone who crossed the line between story and truth. No one’s gone near it since. But the music box still plays sometimes. Locals swear they hear it on cold nights, drifting down into town on the wind. And if you stand outside the gates after midnight, they say you might hear a voice say: “You finally came home.”
By NoExitStories 2 years ago in Fiction
Faceless Night [Part 2].. Content Warning.
*** The color was a shiny black, as dark as the night. He walked among the dry branches soaked by the rain. Only the two pearl-like orbs on his face, his eyes, could be taken with him anywhere. He moved through the bushes and once again his body twisted to gaze at the cloudy sky, hoping the full moon would never appear. Hoping the rain would finally favor the curse that condemned him. Hoping to keep watching his lover's body only in the form of a black cat. He tried to meow, but his voice suddenly grew heavy, no longer resembling that of a cat. He tried to retreat, sneaking his body back into the bushes, to avoid the full moon's light.
By Shafa Ichwanus2 years ago in Fiction
The Bond that Remained!
Rowan sat by the dim firelight, the shadows in his cottage stretching like long-forgotten memories. The crackle of the flames was the only sound in the quiet room, filling the space where voices used to echo. His fingers wobbled continuously among the contacts. As he closed his eyes, wanting to reminisce some sweet memories, a sudden crackling noise broke the silence, followed by a strange, rustling sound at the window. Rowan’s heart skipped a beat. He stood up, hands trembling, as he peered into the darkening yard, unsure if what he had heard was real or a figment of his isolation. He could see nothing but the sway of the trees in the wind—but the feeling of being watched lingered, as unsettling as the silence that had enveloped him for years. He quickly stood up and approached the window, where an old woman was sweeping dried twigs and leaves. Her appearance repulsed him, and he couldn’t bring himself to address her. Shaking off the thought, he slid into his cozy bed, but the image of her face lingered in his mind—a mix of ugliness and an unsettling innocence. Despite his best efforts to sleep, her face stayed with him as he drifted into a restless slumber. Tomorrow, he knew, the day would bring nothing but the weight of memories.
By Moumita Malik2 years ago in Fiction
