Mystery

Eyes
I was seven years old the first time I got married. I remember the weight of the dress before I remember my own name. It was heavy and white and warm, like it had been waiting for me longer than I had been alive. The fabric pressed against my shoulders with a seriousness I did not yet understand. The room was filled with the aroma of flowers I couldn’t name, their scent thick and unfamiliar; and the walls seemed older than the building that held them as if the space itself had been borrowed for the occasion. There were people there. I remember that much. Their voices softened as I entered, the way voices do when something inevitable is about to happen. No one smiled too widely. No one whispered. They all seemed like a blurry memory; a background character of my story. I am even unsure of the season but I do know I wanted to hold onto the feeling and the intensity of the dream; and take it with me but I couldn’t remember everything once I woke up.
By Cadma4 days ago in Fiction
The Things Love Leaves Behind
In this city, magic didn’t glow. It stained. The rain that night tasted like old copper and burnt herbs, the kind of drizzle that seeped into your coat and your conscience at the same time. I pulled my collar up and waited under the awning of a pawnshop that sold cursed objects at honest prices, which is to say: none of them were cheap, and none of them were safe.
By Alain SUPPINI4 days ago in Fiction
A Quandary in Quarantine
Chapter One The sun was high and bright in the brilliant sapphire blue sky. A few perfectly puffy cotton-ball clouds floated lazily by. Looking up towards the sky out my front window, I could almost believe it was the middle of summer, rather than the beginning of March. But, it was definitely not summer. We were still deep inside a brutal Midwestern winter. The snow had been piled by the plows thigh-deep along the roads and an ever-present layer of ice hung heavily from the branches of the sturdy trees that lined the street.
By Erin Lorandos4 days ago in Fiction
Patriots. Expatriates.
The white china cup clattered against the serving plate as the train hit a soft bump. He stared glassy-eyed as the coffee within swirled. Mountains flitted by his window, their gray dominance only interrupted by the lush green landscape at their base.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
THE SILENT REBELLION: WHY THE WORLD IS WATCHING A PENGUIN WALK TO ITS DEATH
You have seen the image. It is arguably the most heartbreaking thing on your timeline right now. In the top half, a penguin lies motionless, half-buried in the dust, its journey ended. In the bottom half, a solitary figure waddles away from the safety of the colony, heading straight for the white nothingness of the horizon. The text overlaid on the image speaks of "leaving midway" and the "will to live." It is being shared by millions who feel burnt out, lost, or exhausted. But most people sharing it do not know the true story behind this footage. They think it is just a sad animal getting lost. They are wrong. This is not a mistake. This is a decision. The Law of the Colony To understand why this is terrifying, you have to understand the rules. Penguins are biological machines designed for one thing: survival through unity. They stay together. They move toward the water to feed. They move toward the ice to breed. Their internal compass is locked to the magnetic pull of the ocean. For a penguin to be alone is a death sentence. For a penguin to walk away from the water is insanity. But in 2007, the legendary filmmaker Werner Herzog captured something in Antarctica that science still struggles to explain emotionally. During the filming of Encounters at the End of the World, his crew noticed a single Adélie penguin. While thousands of its kin were heading right, toward the open water and food, this one stopped. It looked around. And then, with a terrifying calmness, it turned left. The 70-Kilometer Suicide The crew watched in silence. The penguin began to walk toward the interior of the continent. There is nothing there. No water. No food. No colony. Just a frozen wasteland of ice and mountains that stretches for thousands of kilometers. The scientists on site, including ecologist Dr. David Ainley, tried to intervene. They caught the "deranged" bird and brought it back to the colony. They placed it among its friends, hoping the "glitch" would reset. It didn't. The moment they released it, the penguin didn't hesitate. It turned right back around and began marching toward the mountains again. It wasn't lost. It was heading toward a destination that didn't exist. This wasn't a navigational error. It was a "death march." The bird was walking 70 kilometers into a white hell, knowing—on some primal level—that it would never return. And now, in 2026, this footage has resurfaced, not as a documentary clip, but as a mirror for humanity.
By Wellova 4 days ago in Fiction
The Defender Of The Faith
On the castle green below, the Crown Prince chased a black cat under the ever watchful eye of the King.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
In the Midst of Life
It was one of those rare late March days in the Deep South, which came on with a surprising vengeance. Already the roads, houses, and cars were covered with the fine pinkish dust more typical of June or July, after temperatures had climbed into the nineties for the ten days past. A bead of sweat rolled down Caitlyn’s nose as she slowed her car. She stopped at the intersection. A strand of limp gold hair had escaped from her scrunchie. She pushed the strands behind her ear, barely sparing a thought for the motion.
By Kimberly J Egan5 days ago in Fiction
Compound Growth
The first thing Marcus noticed was Derek's skin. It wasn't dramatic—not at first. Just a certain smoothness to his colleague's face during the Monday morning standup, a tightness around the jaw that hadn't been there Friday. Derek had always been soft, doughy in that way of men who'd stopped caring somewhere around their second divorce. But now his cheeks held a new geometry. His neck no longer folded into his collar.
By Destiny S. Harris5 days ago in Fiction
The Sun Who Envied The Moon
Do you ever wish you were like someone else? Wish you had that dream life, that dream car, that loving family? I wish I was like the moon, she sees the real side of people, when humans are at their most vulnerable they turn to the moon like an old friend. People only talk to me when they’re “happy” but usually they are just faking it.
By Christian Sanchez5 days ago in Fiction
Greybridge
My name is Alden Rook. I am 17 years old and I’ve lived in Greybridge for all my life. My mom raised me all by herself along with me and my 2 siblings, and somehow made this strange city home. I'm dating a lovely girl named Mara Ellison. We’ve been dating for about 3 years now and I love her and wanna spend all my days with her. This city though isn’t a normal city, there’s rules, rules that nobody can explain but you just know like its a law. Everyone learns these rules when they turn 18, like they’re embedded in your mind. Nobody questions it, it's just how life is in Greybridge. Nobody in my family has ever been outside of Greybridge, you get the food inside the city, you go to the doctor inside the city, never outside. I’ve always wondered about what it would be like to leave this city, for something new, stretch my arms out like a falcon and fly away. I try to brush all these thoughts out of my brain, as I bike my way to Mara’s house. I turn 18 tomorrow and we planned on going to the movies and maybe grabbing a bite after, so I was ready for a fun night. I arrive at her house, as she’s sitting on the front doorstep waiting for me with her special outfit on. It’s got a certain glow that reflects off of her making her seem like an angel from heaven. “You look beautiful tonight Mara”, I tell her as she jumps into my arms with a crushing hug. Her brown eyes stare at me back and she utters a calm thank you. She hops on the back of my bike as we ride to the theater hoping to catch that new movie, before all the tickets are sold. We arrive, get our tickets, the very last two left: Lucky us, and get a drink and popcorn to share. She’s going off about how excited she is about the movie and all I can do is sit and admire her. Her dark black hair like ink flowing in the hair matched with her brown eyes light as milk chocolate. Matched with a smile that lights up this city with the energy it needs, she's perfect. We take our seats down in the theater and enjoy the movie. She's dead silent and laser focused on every scene, every character and by the end she’s going off about how good it was and all her favorite parts. I do have to agree the movie was pretty good, and I had a really fun time with her in my arms while watching. We biked down to our favorite restaurant, a little small owned business, where our first date was. We sit side by side instead of across from each other, and order our food, she gets the burger with fries and I get a cheese steak sub, my favorite from here. As we eat and enjoy the food, she tilts her head on my shoulder, her black hair spilling everywhere, and I feel at home. I feel like I could sit here all night with her and never get tired of it. Though eventually the night ends, and we go our separate ways, I drop her off leaving her with a kiss on the lips and bike home. On the way home I hear a scream, not a scared scream, a scream that echoes like your life is in danger. I rush out looking for the source and realize I rushed too far, I’ve stepped outside of the border.
By Christian Sanchez5 days ago in Fiction
Sir Wulfric and The Missing
“Welcome, Sir Wulfric,” the stablemaster said, bowing his head. “Young Master Harlan.” The knight and his squire each nodded in return.
By Aaron Morrison5 days ago in Fiction
The Wickfield Husbands
I thought I was lost, when I suddenly saw the sign, Wickfield Rhode Island, and I turned my wheel to exit the interstate. I felt butterflies in my stomach, as I didn't know what to expect. However, I was on my way to the job interview of a lifetime, and I was elated and apprehensive all at the same time.
By Susan Payton5 days ago in Fiction