Series

Eden
The storm suddenly arrived. Rain hammered against the windows of Anora Kingsley's office as she sat buried beneath stacks of books, journal articles, and unfinished research.
By Amber5 months ago in Fiction
Eden
The earth groaned beneath the desert. Dr. Lucien Vale paused at the edge of the excavation trench, listening. The sound came again... A low vibration.
By Amber5 months ago in Fiction
I Got Surprising Results During my Experiment on YouTube
I have now completed my second week of YouTube, and I was not expecting the results I got for my round of videos for the week. I thought that I would go crazy with being consistent during the second week, but so far, it's been so fun and addicting to upload these videos!
By Emy Quinn5 months ago in Fiction
The Escape
It took a damn long time for the two men to remove the couches from the door once again, but they were set on their plan, even if it didn't work. Henry did scroll through social media looking for any kind of solution to see if anyone other survivors out there have figured it out, but there was no such luck. Roy had given him an irritated look, and Henry knew that he was stalling, he just didn't want to sacrifice someone by accident.
By Emy Quinn5 months ago in Fiction
The Watchmaker of Blackwood Lane
The coastal town of Oakhaven was known for its dense morning fog and its utter lack of excitement. That was until October 14th, when Alistair Vance vanished into thin air. Alistair was an eccentric, reclusive watchmaker who spent his days inside a cramped, three-story shop on Blackwood Lane. He rarely spoke to townspeople, except to deliver beautifully repaired antique pocket watches. When he failed to open his shop for three consecutive days, the local sheriff, Arthur Pendelton, decided to investigate. What he discovered inside didn't just spark a missing person investigation—it left the entire community questioning the very fabric of reality. --- Week 1: The Lock from the Inside Sheriff Pendelton expected to find a break-in or perhaps an elderly man who had fallen ill. Instead, he found the front door securely bolted from the inside with three heavy iron latches. After breaking through the window, the scene awaiting him was eerie. The shop was perfectly pristine. There were no signs of a struggle, no missing money from the cash register, and Alistair’s favorite woolen coat still hung by the door. On the workbench sat a half-eaten meal, with a cup of tea that had long gone cold. But the most disturbing detail was the sound. Alistair’s shop housed hundreds of clocks—grandfathers, cuckoos, and delicate pendulums. Usually, they filled the room with a chaotic symphony of ticks and tocks. Today, they were ticking in perfect, terrifying unison. Every single clock in the room beat at the exact same millisecond, like a collective mechanical heartbeat. Week 2: The Room That Kept No Real Time As the investigation deepened over the next forty-eight hours, forensic teams uncovered anomalies that baffled experts. * The Blueprint Discrepancy: When compared to the town’s official architectural blueprints, Alistair’s shop possessed a hidden architectural void—a four-foot gap between the second-floor workshop and the third-floor living quarters. * The Watch Project: On his main desk, Alistair had been working on a gold pocket watch unlike any seen before. It didn't have numbers. Instead, its face was engraved with complex astronomical constellations and ancient geometric symbols. When an officer picked up the gold watch, the collective ticking in the shop suddenly stopped. The silence was deafening. Even more bizarrely, when the forensics team checked their own digital wristwatches, they discovered that inside the shop, their modern watches had all slowed down, losing exactly twelve minutes per hour. Week 3: The Message in the Gears A week after the disappearance, a breakthrough came from an unexpected source: Alistair’s estranged apprentice, a young man named Julian. Armed with a magnifying glass, Julian began inspecting the gears of the unfinished astronomical watch. Deep within the microscopic mechanism, etched onto the main spring, was a hidden inscription. It wasn't a standard manufacturer’s mark. It was a hastily scratched sentence: "I have finally synchronized the friction. The gap between seconds is open. They are coming, or perhaps, I am already going." The date of the etching was exactly October 14th—the night Alistair vanished. --- The Verdict: An Unsolved Horizon Two years have passed since that foggy October night. The shop on Blackwood Lane remains locked, preserved as a historical anomaly. Extensive police searches using tracking dogs, infrared cameras, and structural demolition found no secret escape tunnels, no hidden rooms, and absolutely no trace of Alistair Vance's DNA outside his usual workspace. How does a man walk out of a room locked tightly from the inside without breaking a single window? Some locals believe Alistair was a victim of a meticulously planned foul play. Others whisper a much stranger theory in the local taverns: that the old watchmaker didn't escape through space, but rather through time itself, finding a way to step inside the very gears he spent a lifetime perfecting.
By Shoaib5 months ago in Fiction
Effie, Simon, & Lorelai
Needless to say at this point, Effie's relationship with Lonnie was volatile. I don't know how many times she left him, or how many times she threatened to. Nor am I privy to how many times he told her he'd kill himself if she left, if she didn't return. I'm sure for every time I know about, there are several I don't.
By L.C. Schäfer5 months ago in Fiction
Trapped
The boy had fallen asleep shortly after the older man had cleaned him up. The older man was sitting on the desk chair, and Henry was standing next to him. They thought it would be best to stay away from the door, and they wanted to stay with the boy, in case he needed them.
By Emy Quinn5 months ago in Fiction
YNs–Tattoos. Content Warning.
2013 An ankle connecting a foot in plastic hung under the logo of the tavern The Iron Knee in Wilmington, Delaware. The joke was lost on some, but for those who got it, they were probably too hammered to even comprehend beyond the sardonic piece of witticism. A golden glow seeped through the space and allowed steins to show bubbles floating to the top in a gilded fashion. The din of the place featured a few bursts of laughter amongst the idle chatter. Garr Forsyth, 22, looked around and found his schoolmate from the University of Delaware. They had been on spring break. He was six three and spelled the name “athlete.” With bronze skin and frizzy hair, he noticed the friend coming in the door to the bar.
By Skyler Saunders5 months ago in Fiction
YNs—The Street Spectacle. Content Warning.
1990 Her heels clicked against the Wilmington, Delaware pavement. A trail of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. Her hair had become matted to her forehead but she appeared immaculate in a business suit. She smiled with blood between her teeth. Her nails had chipped and broken. In her right hand she held a satchel of crisply unmarked bills totalling two million dollars. A strong gait accelerated her pace. She smiled.
By Skyler Saunders5 months ago in Fiction
YNs—Speedster. Content Warning.
1994 Cosmo Millhand’s clothes looked clean. At twenty-four-years-old, he had attained a master’s degree and ensured that he looked and smelled clean. His suit and dress shoes appeared immaculate. He lived in a house that looked like it could take flight. The leaves angled like wings in a dream. He hopped into his yellow Porsche 911 Speedster convertible with the black top. With the flip of a switch a tiny compartment opened and a crackpipe and a lighter issued forth. By reaching into his pocket, he extracted a baggie with ready rock in it. With precision, he added the contents of the small bag to the crackpipe. A flick of the lighter burned at one end of the crackpipe and the product heated. Once he took in the drug, his heart beat quickened and his eyes widened. The charge from the rush of the substance allowed him to continue on his journey to his desk at E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company in Wilmington, Delaware as a senior vice president.
By Skyler Saunders5 months ago in Fiction
YNs—Checking the iPhone for Taps. Content Warning.
2012 Large orange men gathered against a wall. Their height appeared to be about seven to eight feet. They waited for the right time to keep going with their plan. What was their plan? They wished to take out any and all drug dealers in Wilmington, Delaware. Their transparency in the light and complete disappearance in the dark provided them with the notion of being stealth.
By Skyler Saunders5 months ago in Fiction
YNs—A Set of Steak Knives. Content Warning.
1995 Sleek sliding doors didn’t interest Poland Vie. He looked at the deep cranberry Honda Odyssey with great percolating thoughts.
By Skyler Saunders5 months ago in Fiction