Series
Bootleggers' Legacy, Chapter One
Elisha and George huddled together over the newspaper from Shreveport. It was several weeks old and smudged from dozens of fingers running across the pages, but the words of the headline were still unmistakable: PROHIBITION TO START IN JANUARY. George shook his head and took a swig from his flask. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, “Well, I reckon we got us three more months to stock up. That dadgum Congress and this fool Volstead, whoever he is. Parson says it ain’t gon’ be agin’ the law to have liquor, but ain’t nobody gon’ be able to sell it, legal-wise, nohow.”
By Dawn Harper5 years ago in Fiction
A Stick of Gum and a TV Remote
Debra dropped to her knees pushing vines and branches aside to crawl under the rock overhang. With a branch, she gently scrubbed the fallen leaves, removing her footprints; pulling the foliage into place, she prayed she was hidden. She would rather die than be found, although being found might easily lead to her death.
By CJ Flannery5 years ago in Fiction
Brown Paper Box
Brown Paper Box Part 3 He was a good boy. He knew he was. He had been told all the time, which made this silence so much more painful. What had he done to deserve this? Sitting at the curb, he closed his eyes and remembered the times he was scratched behind the ears and told, “Hey, Buddy, you’re a good boy, you know that?” He had. He had known. Now the fur behind his ears was matted and dirty, with biting burrs digging into his tender skin.
By Mayra Martinez5 years ago in Fiction
Welcome Home to Hell
Eyes downcast, clutching tight to the orange backpack in her arms, Thea stepped off the bus. She knew she shouldn’t be here, knew she was going against everything they had warned her about, but her memories told a different story than theirs and she wanted to know the truth. She wanted to see for herself.
By L. J. Knight 5 years ago in Fiction
Just a Package
The latest part of the dig site was just one of many exciting encounters today. The first level that worked on the opening found a few bodies that still had clothing on them. He fact it was preserved so well was much to debate about before even unearthing the rest of the remains.
By Julian Gaines5 years ago in Fiction
Not Quite Time, Not Quite Space
Auden Tholos, the son of Audra Tholos, stared up from the floor of Rosette Gok’s kitchen. Auden’s eyes, bloodshot with tears, were initially wide with intrigue, but quickly scorched over into a churning mix of anger and something else equally passionate. Green droplets clung to the ringlets on his head and the outer layer of clothing proving to Emma Mota where he was before arriving here. Auden Tholos was not one for greetings and guess work. With accuracy he deduced the reason for his sudden appearance before an unknown woman and her. Auden shaped his gaze with that of Emma Mota. Pain, the same kind striding with Auden, existed in Emma and together their pain greeted as quiet signs, flushed cheeks, and a lowered guard soon to be hoisted higher than it ever was before.
By M. J. Luke5 years ago in Fiction
On Frozen Pond
Corbin had been watching the clouds for the last forty-five minutes as they gradually darkened over the mountain peaks. He knew a system was moving in & that storms were expected by evening, but he had hoped to reach the cabin before they hit. He was close—only seventeen miles to go—but the road from here would be narrow & winding, with frequent steep drops off the shoulder, & the freezing drizzle had begun.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock5 years ago in Fiction
Box Full of Love and Adventure
It’s crazy how you could wake up one day and your whole world could change. How a couple of years of your life could erase, and blur out any memories you’ve ever had. How the people closest to your heart could just disappear in a blink of an eye.
By K.J.George5 years ago in Fiction
City of Angels
The rich earthy aroma of the smoke from the lit cigar neatly perched on the edge of the crystal ashtray filled the room. His voice echoed off of the dimly lit walls, its timbre emphasizing the gravitas of his persona and the authority of his reputation. He was undoubtedly one of the most acknowledged private detectives north of the rust belt. And yet, his personality was straight out of the 1950’s, as though he didn’t miss a beat in the subsequent decades. Nevertheless, his work spoke for itself, which is why there was usually a line of people out the door waiting to hire him for his expertise in missing persons cases. Today, however, was a different story, as the office was eerily empty, and the only sound that broke the silence was his somber voice as he answered a call from a potential client.
By Mir Shajee5 years ago in Fiction
