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Showing stories tagged with #psychological-mystery Clear filter
(.. A short story) A guy walked over to me today and thanked me for the other night. He told me I had changed his life. His face looked familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
The face looking back at me looked spoilt. Puffy white cheeks with sunken eyes ringed in black tiredness. My dark lashes clumped together and you could hardly tell that my eyes were blue.
My dream I didn't remember much. But I do remember Sharon She was sitting on a dry wooden dock that was too close to the water. She had a grey sweater on and was listening to music.
#confession Sequel to Little Black Box Coated, cold, in scarlet, Symbols, painted on the side, This red box, it holds, in shaking scrawls, Confessions I can't hide.
Chapter one The Damn Truth "Eleanor. Where the hell did you put my wallet at?" yelled Camila. Eleanor shrugged. "Camila I think Charlene has it." said Beatrice. There were 7 sisters.
"How are you Maddison?" the Doc asked her, stopping at the edge of the Fog so that she was unable to seem him.
#emotion My brother always picked on me, His way of having fun. He'd laugh at me and tease all day, I often tried to run.
Roberts nearly ran into Inspector Decrie as the older man suddenly stopped in front of a shut door. "Listen Roberts, We like you. You are hardworking, and you show the department a lot of promise.
“Right this way Sir.” Said John as he lead the latest client into the most bizarre habitat he would ever likely encounter. The flat was, different to many others.
I sit on the creaking platform staring at the moon appearing from out the water, like a sea monster from out its icy lair. The moon spews light into the black water, rippling gently.
Chapter 8 "W-who?" Rose whispered. "Robert Day dear," Mary repeated frowning. "NO. It can't be!" Rose shouted, her face paler than usual. "Rose. What is it?" Mia asked, concerned.
Am I dead. I laugh at myself, as that is the first thing that I think. Typical me. I sit up, and look down at myself. I frown. Why am I wearing a paper thin hospital gown. Was I in an accident.
THREE - Who are you. That night I took off my shackles they would make a sound like a kettle whistle when they unlock and release.
The bell sounded; chairs scraped, people stood and I reached out to him in my mind. Nothing. Not a whisper.
Once I was diving in an ocean, blue as azure. On the lid it said only one word: Mystery.
Timmy regarded me with eyes of mythic cryptic amber, sneezed, stretched and kicked the kitten absentmindedly with his back legs. My coffee went cold and my fag went out.
It had been two years since, Mr Collins, ended his secret not that any knew it. Mr Collins awoke one raining, gloomy Monday morning, when he realised that he wasn't in his own home.
"Mrs Windal?" I ask again, she fumbles feebly with her moth eaten cardigan, draped over her hollow self, she stares toward the dust ridden floor boards, she presses her lips together with a mild...
She's there when I wake up. She's there again at night. She plays within the darkness. But she prefers the light. She paints a pretty picture. That gets inside my head. Sure that she'd still haunt me.
I didn’t recognize the street this morning, or was it perhaps late in the afternoon. People passed me, eyes on the pavement and avoiding contact.
She opened up her mind, but nothing came out; It was empty. All of a sudden her brain went blank. All she could see was a vast rolling path, going no where.
Elliot had been waiting patiently, leaning against some old brickwork, leg propped up against the wall, minding his own business, when the most peculiar thing happened.
1. He asked no more, they listened to the rustling sounds of moving fabric and tapping rain, the air was thick with moisture.
I was standing at the sink, brushing my teeth, when I glanced at the digital clock on the counter. It read 1328. But that didn't make any sense; I knew it was 8pm.