Mystery
The Pieridae
Ean liked the word 'ostensibly.' Perhaps it was because things truly weren’t ever quite what they seemed. He was reading a book on WW2, or to be exact, the aftermath of the war in Germany. Ean liked books that explored history, because as he knew full well, even just as a 14-year-old kid born and raised in Manhattan, history had a way of repeating itself.
By Conrad Hoyt5 years ago in Fiction
Living Forever
Abigail walked down the street of her youth for the first time in over a century. Her body hadn’t aged a day since she last left, but to say she was unchanged would not be accurate. Like the street she walked down, she bore unmistakable signs of someone or something that had been neglected at best, ravaged at worst. Her t-shirt and jeans had holes and slashes in them; the damages echoed on the skin below. A hole—a bullet hole—ran through her upper arm. Her face held a deep gash across the cheek. The wounds weren’t bloody, although blood could be seen. Souvenirs from the Breakdown and all else that followed. Living forever, Abigail had come to realize, came with its costs.
By The Roaming Scholar5 years ago in Fiction
Boite
Noun 1. A small restaurant or nightclub. Let's Create! ** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem—inspired by the word, boîte, where does it take me? Where does it take you?Learn more about “The Word” here, and create with me!
By The Roaming Scholar5 years ago in Fiction
Finding Melody
“All graduates report in an orderly fashion to the lobby for your assignments and new locations.” the intercom announces loudly. I get up from my table and make my way to the lobby with the rest of my peers. We all orderly line up in our black and white uniforms. As I get closer and closer to the desk in the lobby, I get more excited. Soon, I am at the desk with a woman seated in front of me. She smiles softly with pearly white teeth. She wears white and black like the rest of us and her brown hair pulled back to appear clean and professional. The blue armband with the letter “G” on her left arm shows that she is a government representative for Sector G, the sector that I live in.
By Bailey Mica5 years ago in Fiction
The Key to Hell
I can’t tell you how long I’ve been in this place, I can barely remember last year let alone what must’ve been decades ago. Upload and all your dreams will come true, they said. Upload and you can control your own reality, they said. However, they didn’t say I would be trapped in my own hell by uploading myself into their mainframe. They didn’t say I wouldn’t be able to get out of this place. They didn’t say I was going to be the only “real” one here. I had to figure this out myself, but for the longest time I didn’t even realize it. In fact, I remember them specifically saying everyone who chose to upload would get to interact with each other whenever they pleased. I tried co-op mode with a few people who I knew before the upload, but something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly, but they weren’t the people I knew on the outside. Something about them changed. My brother wasn’t a murderer before this, my sister wasn’t obsessed with being idolized before this. If only he didn’t see the others here as just pawns to dispose of whenever he pleased, maybe if she didn’t want the others here to worship her at every moment, they would realize we are trapped here.
By Chris Barnett5 years ago in Fiction
The Warehouse
Emily awoke from what she thought was from a night’s rest, only to feel that she simply awoke from what now appeared to be a major hit on the head. She sat up in bed and surveyed the room. Everything in her studio apartment seemed to be in order, but somehow, she got this overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. She reached for her locket. It was gone!
By V.N. Crespen 5 years ago in Fiction
A Form of Currency
Jasper considered the lone pinecone in the center of the road, on what little was left of the yellow line. The pair stood atop one of so many hills, and Taffy stopped to take in the long stretch of highway before them, a narrow cut through the valley and a lazy rise beyond it. A pale sky let through the sun which made silver of the asphalt below, and yellow grass sprouted from around the graying spruce and hemlock that dutifully hugged the side of the road. Jasper rushed the pinecone and sent it flying with a weary swing of his torn boot.
By Stephen Mage5 years ago in Fiction
