thriller
Echoes of Solace
The knock came just after midnight. Three sharp, deliberate ramps that echoed through the apartment like a warning. I froze, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, heart hammering. No one should be here. Not at this hour. Not in my building.
By Marlowe Solaceabout a year ago in Fiction
Zebras in the Woods. Content Warning.
Shelly shifted deeper into her pumpkin colored, lumpy couch. Trying to find a comfortable position as the fire crackled loudly in the modest cabin. Her cabin, she thought, smiling to herself. Admittedly, it was a bit early in October to have a roaring fire, but having invested her life savings into a semi-derelict cabin she spent the summer renovating, it was time to enjoy the fruits of her labor. She took a healthy sip of her red wine. A bottle she picked up in town about 20 miles away from the local vineyard, or what would be considered local in a town as sprawling as this where there were more trees than people that made up the population.
By Lauren A Radspinnerabout a year ago in Fiction
A Shot in the Heart. Top Story - October 2025.
Chantilly took her slice of cake, along with a glass of milk, into the living room to eat while she watched the latest episode of her favorite daytime talk show. Settling onto the chintz-covered couch, she turned the TV on with the remote, switching the channels until she found the one she was searching for. Today was her first day of vacation, and even though Franklin had to work all week, she had every intention of enjoying it to the hilt.
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Holy American Empire
The chamber of the United Nations stood silent. Delegates from every corner of the globe filled the room, their expressions taut with unease. The air itself seemed to bend under the weight of anticipation. At the center, under the seal of the world, the man who had shattered it rose from his chair.
By Logan M. Snyderabout a year ago in Fiction
The old man at night
The old man at night I saw him again, this night as he dragged his left foot on the cobblestone streets. His gait, a little unsteady with a hunched back and a wooden cane. His face partially covered by a worn out hood and his dirty long ash-gray hair hanging long over his chin. His clothes were that from two nights ago and he probably reeked of alcohol like he did that night.
By Ewura Ekua Acquahabout a year ago in Fiction
Three Knocks in the French Quarter
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! A pounding at the door cut through the dim and quiet café at the corner of Decatur Street like a rusted knife. The lights were low with the CLOSED sign facing outward, but in a few hours, the café would be bustling with regulars and tourists alike. Margaux Lumiere was grateful her café dreams were a success, but these quiet moments baking pastries in the kitchen were the ones she cherished most. She had been humming along to the soft sounds of Edith Piaf as she rolled out the laminated dough for her famous croissants.
By All’s Fair in Love & Writingabout a year ago in Fiction
