Mystery
Chocolates from No One
There were no footsteps in the snow. Yet the package lay there, warm as babies’ breath against the frigid surrounding air, freshly placed.
A message for humanity
I was standing there just looking at her. Blank. With my mind only on one inkling of a memory. A kind of dream like memory that seemed to fade at the same speed as I located it within my awareness.
The Day the Box Came
I remember the day the box came to us. All of us. It was the year 2026. Sixty years ago. I was 5 years old. Things had gotten really bad back then. Soon after news broke out about the existence of a new strain of coronavirus in 2024, an anonymous group of skilled computer hackers decided they had had enough. They chose to join forces and find a way to change things. This group ultimately gained access to every nation’s deepest, darkest secrets. For the next few weeks, new intel was daily released to the world. This intel was irrefutable proof of the existence of cures to every fatal ailment previously known to be incurable. That’s when the Sick Wars started.
Kei'Jei BerettaPublished 3 years ago in FictionSecrets
Darcy stared at the clock, watching the second hand tick by with mechanical uniformity. The reliability of the mechanism soothed her nerves, contrasting starkly with the uncertainty of the task before her. Her attention had been glued to the clock since 7:04, when she'd poured herself a shot of whiskey and settled it purposefully on the table before her and beside a small, grubby package hastily folded in brown paper and tied with fraying twine. The face of the package was addressed in a neat handwriting Darcy hadn't seen in over twenty years.
Rachelle RayPublished 3 years ago in FictionIt Came in the Mail
It came in the mail, I think. A non-descript package wrapped in twine. My mother said when she was young the feeling of brown paper bags made her skin crawl. I turned the brown paper over in my hands. This package made me nauseous.
Quinelle BethelmiePublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Light at the End of the Tunnel
THE GREEN LIGHT The Long Sleep I was plucking my ear hair. Things were going swimmingly. And then I started plucking out my nasal hair.
Gavin MayhewPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Arbiter
This is a continuation of the first Vocal Creators Saloon story. Before reading this installment, please be sure to read the first seven parts that precede it, each written by a different member of the Vocal Creators Saloon Facebook Group: Part 1: Knife Skills Part 2: The Right Thing Part 3: Death Has an Order Part 4: Karma Part 5: Best Laid Plans Part 6: The Devil's Glare Part 7: To Trust, or Not to Trust
Sarahmarie Specht-BirdPublished 3 years ago in FictionGraveyard
I'm sitting there wondering to myself how did I get into this mess. I'm the only one working at two in the morning at a pie shop.
Artist of procedurePublished 3 years ago in FictionFast Forward
The precision of the fold was uncanny. Every corner came to a sharp point, every edge matched up perfectly to the adjacent one, every detail meticulously cared for and doted over. So much time was spent on the details of the wrapping. It was perfect! Oddly, with the care taken to obsessively ensure that the wrapping was pristine, the twine was carelessly wrapped around. First in a horizontal fashion and vertically, with the thread crossing itself on the bottom and hastily tied into a sloppy, uneven bow on the top. There was a layer of dust covering it. It had been sitting on that shelf for quite some time, untouched, unopened. I imagined lifting it off the shelf to reveal a diagonal facing rectangle shape where it had blocked the dust from the shelf. I wanted to blow the layer of dust off the top and examine the package more closely, but every time I would reach out to touch it, I was denied with a swift whack to my hand.
C.L. DeslongchampPublished 3 years ago in FictionFrom Sender Unknown?
The window had been passed by several times before the corner of my eye locked on to something out of place. The hairs on my body rose to a point of brittleness, creating an itchy pain I had pushed from my memory.
Whitney Theresa JunePublished 3 years ago in FictionRough Cut
It was a suspicious package wrapped in brown paper screaming to be opened, until I saw the address. Simply put, it was the final chapter that I knew would arrive one day and this was apparently that one day. I had been waiting for years to read it. But now that it was here, did I really want to open it? That question would become a see-saw of emotions. While it had been placed into the mailbox just in time for a break, I would be leaving a necessary task for the dreaded task of opening that box. I know that prying into the box would conclude the story written long before I was born.
Verna K GundersonPublished 3 years ago in FictionPurgaStories
Jimmy Fenton sat in his work cubicle scrolling aimlessly through his social media feed. Jimmy was a journalist at a mediocre news station and hadn’t contributed much during his time there. He longed for the chance to catch a big break and find that life changing news story that would finally make him visible to his colleagues. As he scrolled past countless memes, faked food hacks and subscription service advertising, he came across an ad that grabbed his attention.
Ryan BarbinPublished 3 years ago in Fiction