Mystery

Too Death to us Part.
This is a love story- or is it a ghost story? Liv and Adam had this beautiful relationship; They had the most cliché relationship. They met in pre- kindergarten and became best friends. By their senior year of high school, they finally became the cutest couple. Graduating as high school sweethearts.
By Jen Phillips22 days ago in Fiction
Warnings in the Wind
January 24th. Today is Michael's 32nd birthday. Even with the dark, gloomy weather that usually comes this time of year, nothing can ruin the excitement I have for tonight's birthday dinner. We have plans to meet at this beautiful restaurant on Main Street, Martha’s Exchange. It started as just a candy shop in 1936 and has now grown into a full eatery and brewery, with little pieces of history throughout the place. Very fancy, which also means very expensive. So we agreed to keep it for a special occasion. I just can’t decide what I want to wear. We've been looking forward to tonight for so long I can’t just dress casually. My Uber is ten minutes away, and that’s only making me ten times more stressed. I quickly throw on a short black dress, take the rollers out of my hair, which reveal beautiful effortless blonde curls, and throw on my winter boots. I’m not naive to the fact that the boots throw off the entire outfit, but it’s the middle of winter in New England for Christ’s sake. I’m in such a rush to catch my Uber that I almost forget to say goodbye to Church, the newest addition to the family. A little black Persian kitty that Michael got me last week to keep me company while he’s away on those long business trips. We agreed on Church thanks to our mutual love of Stephen King. As silly as it may sound, she’s helped me more than I expected. Cats really do seem to have a sixth sense and know when you’re struggling. Just having her around has brought me so much comfort, and we’ve become best friends in such a short amount of time. I say my goodbyes, quickly throw on my winter jacket and scarf, and hop into my Uber.
By Brandy F22 days ago in Fiction
Blonde Curls And A Purple Jacket
Trevor's left eye scanned the detective's inquisitive face. While he couldn't tell if Inspector Greenland was lying, he could sense something was wrong. He just didn't know what exactly.
By Moon Desert22 days ago in Fiction
Welcome Back
Hazel came back to sell the house, not to stay. After spending her whole childhood feeling trapped, that distinction mattered.
By Steph Marie22 days ago in Fiction
The Ghent Files: A Faerie Simple Conundrum
You know it's going to be a long day when you get a work call in the wee hours of the morning. Only, in my line of work, long days have a habit of being just a bit more than you bargained for. I hardly ever get these sorts of calls, anymore. Since getting my license about five years ago, it's been pretty smooth sailing: lost keys and rings, unfaithful spouses, the odd haunted basement or demonic possession. You know: simple jobs.
By Ian Read22 days ago in Fiction
A Quandary in Quarantine
Chapter Three I had had my one-on-one originally scheduled with Maggie for right after lunch, but after a brief phone call we canceled our meeting in favor of a short all-staff at 11 o’clock. She was worried about the town’s potential response as much as I was, and wanted to talk to everyone all at once.
By Erin Lorandos22 days ago in Fiction
A Quandary in Quarantine
Chapter Two Most Monday mornings, I usually followed more or less the same routine. I would arrive at the library around 7:45 or 8:00 am, do a quick sweep of the reference department - which also housed our Adult non-fiction collection - for any obviously out-of-place materials, grab a book truck on my way past circulation, empty the book drop - which is usually full to overflowing after the library is closed all day on Sundays. Next, I take that cart back to circulation so the desk staff can work on getting those items checked in, then I head back to my desk in the reference area.
By Erin Lorandos22 days ago in Fiction
The Arrow in the Dark
It was the kind of night that made the rain taste like old iron and bad omens. The kind of night where even the streetlamps seemed to hunch their shoulders and mind their own business.
By Carolyn Sternes22 days ago in Fiction
Off the Book. Top Story - January 2026.
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly22 days ago in Fiction
Fate is Funny like that
A tall, lanky figure sped through the night, impossibly gaunt and running faster than should have been possible—an inhuman speed.
By Alicia Anspaugh22 days ago in Fiction
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 Cadma23 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 SUPPINI23 days ago in Fiction