Mystery
House of the Murmuring Mirrors
I got a deal on a mansion, and I couldn’t wait to move in. My name is Don Sturgis, and I deserved this. Apparently, the previous owners, a sweet old couple named Rob and Delilah Freemason, had been poisoned and the police never found the poisoner, so the house remained on the market for just over thirty years because prospective buyers were worried the poisoner would come back. But after three decades on the market, I wasn’t worried.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
The Enchanted Grove
Once upon a time, in a land shrouded in mystery and magic, there stood a grove unlike any other. Hidden deep within the forest, its ancient trees whispered secrets of times long past, and its enchanted blooms cast a spell of wonder upon all who ventured near.
By mike webster3 years ago in Fiction
Veil of Whispers
Chapter 1: The Enigmatic Bookstore In the heart of the city, nestled among the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, there stood a quaint antique bookstore. Its weathered facade whispered tales of forgotten lore and hidden mysteries, drawing in wanderers and seekers alike.
By Samuel Asagwara3 years ago in Fiction
Staring at the Papers
As the city's skyline bled into hues of crimson and gold, she perched on her bed's edge, the papers in her lap in stark contrast to the fading light. Her heart drummed an anxious rhythm in her chest, while her mind whirled with a tempest of thoughts and queries. The words inked on the paper seemed alien, yet they were all too real—her husband had been having an affair. And not just with anyone—with her best friend.
By HorizonEdge News Central3 years ago in Fiction
An Unintended Stop. Content Warning.
"Smoke! Mum, there's smoke!" "Okay, I see it." Janet tried to remain calm as she traversed a busy multiple lane motorway to safety, and could feel her jaw tightening as cars beeped and her engine grinded, fighting her all the way in its bid to break down.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Fiction
William's Things
Opal slept on her belly like a dog all summer. It was too hot to open the drapes or the shutters, so she contented herself with lying in the cool darkness beneath her bed, or in the bare porcelain bottom of the bathtub with a book fanned open in her lap and her feet kicked up over the side. There was a little square window at the foot of the tub whose glass was all wavy; when Opal looked through it, she felt as though she were seeing a distorted reflection in a ripply pond. She liked to imagine that the weird, wobbly world behind the glass wasn’t an illusion at all, and that if she were to open the little window and crawl through, that the trees and houses and street lamps would all remain bent at strange, impossible angles, and that she would become a part of this interesting world too. Alas, the window looked as though it had never been opened, and Opal went back to her book.
By Jennifer A. G.3 years ago in Fiction







