Mystery
The Scarecrow Incident
Nobody in Ashveil Hollow liked talking about the scarecrow. —or at least that is what they told Sheriff Crowe when he would wander too close to a group gathering near the town flyer for the Harvest Social later this weekend. Actually, everyone had talked about it too much over the last year since it happened.
By Chel Writesabout a month ago in Fiction
The Monarchs of November
By the time Leonard Shelton understood what he was seeing, the monarch butterflies had covered three blocks of Harbor Street. They rested along the curb, beneath parked cars, against the brick walls of the old ferry office, and across the iron railing above the harbor, their orange wings startling against the salt and November grime that had settled over the town. Leonard had come downtown to examine a gull caught in fishing line, yet he stood beside his municipal equipment case and stared at the monarchs because their presence belonged to another month and another place entirely.
By Nolan Reedabout a month ago in Fiction
Body of Evidence
“Well, none of these people are the killer. And not vampires, either. See, they show up in photos.” It is days like this, that try my very nonexistent soul. I didn’t know whether to smack him, slap my own head, or disembowel him. The problem with the last one, unfortunately, was that I was on a diet. I’d seen what that fool stuffed in his stomach. I would inherit his cholesterol numbers, and that was an issue I’d rather not pursue. The only other purpose would be to ship him to the augeries, and even they wouldn’t trust a prediction from his intestines.
By Meredith Harmonabout a month ago in Fiction
Tattered Heart, Late Snow
May 6,2026 Shaker Heights, OH We should be knee-deep in Spring, but last night the latest snow ever dumped on us and our tulips. I had just unboxed my Dior boots from RealReal, and I despised the thought of wet salt and old snow coming into contact with the silver hardware and black leather. I curse under my breath. I'm already late for work, and I was just now seeing that I forgot to lock my car door last night--again--probably due to drinking too much on a Sunday night with Mackie, one of my newest and latest friends.
By Jennifer L Osborneabout a month ago in Fiction
Just a Taste Part 16. Content Warning.
Ch 16: Just a Taste Dylan December 21st, 2024- Woodside Motel- 7:22 AM The two of us ate in silence. An undercurrent of tension and uncertainty filled the air. My hands trembled as I finished the tasteless eggs and slightly overcooked toast.
By Rain Dayzeabout a month ago in Fiction
The Wrong Chat
At 6:17 on a Wednesday afternoon, you are added to a WhatsApp group called Room 6 Pickup & Playdates. You are waiting in your car outside of your daughter's dance studio, where the windows are lightly fogged with the effort of eighteen tiny bodies giving their all in unison. You are watching your daughter, her black leotard hiding the sweat building on her skin. She focuses so intently, you can almost see the little vein that pops up on her forehead.
By Autumn Stewabout a month ago in Fiction
A different kind of night. Grand Prize Winner in Out of Season Challenge. Top Story - September 2026.
Breakfast for dinner is not unusual for my family. Heck, we have breakfast for dinner more often than regular stuff for dinner. I'm not sure what it's like for folks in the city where they have all kinds of fancy drive-through restaurants and a million different types of bottled water.
By Lamar Wigginsabout a month ago in Fiction
