Mystery
"IT"
Frankie Berry Wise “Tell me a story of long, long ago, Long, long ago. Tell me a story,” the children would beg as they gathered on crisp summer evenings, around old lady Martha, who sat, day after day, in her rocking chair on the front porch. The children’s favorite story is the one she told about the monster “IT’,” that roamed the dark woods, carrying a green light lantern, late at night.
By Frankie Berry Wise5 years ago in Fiction
To Go or Not To Go?
Tossing and turning in my bed, I looked over at the alarm clock to see it read 3:20 a.m. Ugh here we go again I thought to myself. I have to get up in three hours for this big day. I knew it would come; I just hadn’t anticipated it to come so soon. I know this is why I cannot sleep for the last two weeks. And, I most certainly know that if I fall asleep, that dream will come again. I felt my eyelids get heavy as the thoughts in my head diminished to just this one dream. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.
By Diana Angela Chang5 years ago in Fiction
Curiosity: A strong desire to know or learn something.
I finally stopped fighting the urge, I had to know what was up with the neighbor’s garage. Even if I was charged with breaking and entering, I needed to know why that damn green light came on every night at 10:01 pm.
By Lamar Wiggins5 years ago in Fiction
Glow Stick
Once upon a time in the town of Lake Erie but not necessarily around the lake itself. There was a family whose last name was trickster. They were a family of four. You had Ronnie as the Father and Sally as the mother. Scottie was the baby boy and last but not least of them was the trickster of them all, Trixie.
By Dontavius Foster5 years ago in Fiction
Green Marks the Spot
A black duffle with the safety deposit box contents hung from my shoulder as I hurried out of the Ivory Western Bank. In my hand was the picture of Amy and a stack of documents from the closed account. I was going to need more supplies. Heeding my surroundings, I shoved the stack of papers into the side of the bag, not noticing the man watching me from his car. I quickly climbed into the driver’s seat and tossed the duffle onto the floor next to the broken marigold pot. Pulling the gun from my waistband, I placed it in the glove compartment.
By Kaneene Pineda5 years ago in Fiction
Phoenix
There is non-seasonal rain. Thunder rumbles and lightning splits the clouds into streaks of silver, black and grey. It is a perfect day for a funeral. A classic; the weather I always imagine for my own funeral. It seems fitting to herald David’s curtain-call with such inclement weather. It pleases me, though not obviously, I hope.
By Phoebe Wilby5 years ago in Fiction
