Mystery

A MAGIC MOMENT
I always love sundown. There is a magic point in time where the sun hits our old barn and it’s like a switch is flicked on and the roof and timbers glow.
By Margaret Flood5 years ago in Fiction
The Package
My car pulled onto campus for the first time. I was "home" for the next several years. The long drive across Michigan, having gotten a late start, got me to campus at a fairly late hour. It took a couple of attempts but I finally elbowed my car door open and took my keys with me. My luggage could wait for a moment as I determined which apartment key would actually work the best.
By Kent Brindley5 years ago in Fiction
Maggie in Her Dress
It was twilight when Maggie stepped outside to her back porch barefoot. The end of the day, almost, and the temperature outside had just started to cool, and she was finally off her feet. The house inside was still stifling without air conditioning. Well, even in the winter months it was stifling to her. They didn't like windows opened in this house.
By Jessie5 years ago in Fiction
To see or not to see.
"Open it." "You Open it." "Come on, open it." "No, you can open it." "Look, Liz, it has your name on it." "So? That doesn't mean that I have to open it?"
By Russell Ormsby 5 years ago in Fiction
The Hungry Unknown
Vincent only wished for a normal weekend. He had it all planned out, the Patriots were playing and he had some imported beer that he had been dying to try for a while now. It was going to be uneventful, and that’s how he wanted it to be. That morning, he received a rather peculiar gift from, well, someone he hopes. When the doorbell rang, there was no one present upon him opening the door. All that was there was a brown paper box on his front doorstep. The only reason he even took it inside was because it had his address on it, though there was no return address or any indication as to where it came from.
By Spaced Lizard5 years ago in Fiction
A Father's Treasure
I knew this place once. Though now I can only recall it from my memory. I have not seen it for nearly 23 years. Back then I was known through the whole county as Lady Lucy Clarke. My father was a very wealthy earl. I spent many years of my childhood living on this farm. I grew up playing on that tire swing, and learning to ride a horse. Though the most vivid of my memories is of the grand, beautiful red barn that cast it's presence onto the estate.
By Kacey Lovesick5 years ago in Fiction
Gasoline
I get a call at about four in the morning. Said they found some poor sap face down in the dirt on a farmstead. This wasn’t exactly the first time that I got a call all the way out in the bush. I struck up a cigarette as I stepped out of the car. Usual nonsense. Plenty of headlights and plenty of flashes. If there were feces, the press was there like flies. My new shoes were already ruined by the time I approached the scene. I see two patrol guys that had to get here hours earlier than I did on half a pot of joe.
By RedemptionVA5 years ago in Fiction
Going Home
”Okay Izzy, get ahold of yourself” I silently admonished myself while devouring an entirely decadent slice of chocolate cake, in my newly acquired gourmet kitchen. I figured I might as well at least prepare this one exquisite creation in this new investment of mine, the Corazon Ranchs’ central hub.
By Sarah St.Erth5 years ago in Fiction
A barn, a witch and greed
"Two turns of de hourglass to decide you fate." The ebony skinned, extremely tall, lithe, sparsely dressed, lovely and menacing young woman said, staring at us without blinking...
By Novel Allen5 years ago in Fiction
What You Leave When You Move
His hand brushed across the top of the shelf, his feet on tiptoes, and his nose itching with dust. Slowly his hand moved along the whole shelf, catching a box wrapped in brown paper at the end. “Honey, the old owners of this house left us something!”
By Noah Glenn5 years ago in Fiction
Delilah's Barn
DELILAH'S BARN Delilah's is just a barn. We have already marked it on our map as we contemplate the journey ahead of us. It'll be tough, a day's hike through a small mountain range consisting of rough terrain and deep woods before a wide open plain...
By Grant Woodhams5 years ago in Fiction
The Truth is like a Needle in a Haystack
Can memories, not your own, destroy a place that has woven itself within the very fabric of your soul? Should someone else’s pain erase a past that never belonged to them? I teeter totter between; I hope not and how can it not. Greedily telling myself to not let it. For some reason these thoughts connect to a mantra that got me through high school, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” It doesn’t really apply to this situation, but I feel like the intent remains within the same vein. I twist it to suit my current purpose. “No one can take away how you feel without your consent.” But I struggle with the word consent. It implies that a person had a choice to begin with. And all those choices were made by other people and not me. But can I really say that? Just like consent I struggle with the notion of culpability.
By Whitney Theresa June5 years ago in Fiction