Mystery
Special Delivery
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. 6:00 AM I groggily slap my hand around till I find my phone and turn the stupid alarm off. It feels too early. I open my eyes to see what time it is. 6 AM! What idiot sets an alarm for 6 AM on a Saturday?! OH, that’s right, me. I’m that idiot because today is the day. The day I finally get my shit together. And because I was the idiot that set the alarms, I can either get up now, or turn off alarms at five-minute increments for the next hour.
By Farah Thompson5 years ago in Fiction
Plain Brown Wrapper
1 My life had become isolated and uneventful since Covid-19 shut the world down. To keep my job, I began to work remotely, doing the same job I had for years, but now in my apartment. Turns out I didn’t have to commute daily through horrible traffic to a packed office full of gossip and cliques worse than high school. I was already much of a loner without many friends, didn’t go out to bars, clubs or parties and had very little social life. I enjoyed my own company and that of my cat, Bruce. I became familiar with multiple forms of delivery systems and utilized them all. Brown boxes and bags at my door were no surprise. As it turned out, the Covid-19 quarantine wasn’t so bad.
By Elizabeth Crow5 years ago in Fiction
Postal
Herbie Joyner hated his job. Sure, it took his uncle over a month of negotiation with the regional director, and transferring to the Hayvenhurst branch to open up a spot for him, but Herbie hated his job nonetheless. He wouldn’t call himself “ungrateful” about the whole thing, though. People would, especially the people who’d been queuing up to recommend a sister or a cousin or some good friend for the rare job opening that Herbie somehow snoozed his way into, only to immediately regard it with disdain.
By Mike Morgan5 years ago in Fiction
The Package
You’re overreacting, she thought as she angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. She stood outside her apartment door, staring at the little brown box sitting neatly in the middle of her welcome mat. She looked around but saw no one. You’re overreacting, she told herself again.
By Kristen Stillman5 years ago in Fiction
Wishes
The birds in the harbour swooped and dived as if flight was something new, a skill they had invented only this morning. Boats bobbed on the water as boats invariably bob on water. It was sunny, not too hot yet, but with the few clouds thinning, the day was losing the battle against the summer heat.
By Wilkie Stewart5 years ago in Fiction
Mystery-Maker
I make mysteries. Oh that sounds eerie, just like that. It’s best to say: I assemble a plotline and compile different routes and clues by which a crime-enthusiast then meanders, in hopes of winning the satisfaction of unveiling a mystery and therefore the honour that comes with that level of Sherlock-holmian ability. Funnily enough, that has been the pushing factor for some users to go and enrol in the study of criminology or forensic science, but that’s not why I do it. My own fascination comes with that childish excitement you experience when working through the steps a real assailant or mysterious missing cake would make, without the necessity of dealing with an aftermath. Simply a good feeling and if you’re romantic, a moral.
By Sasha Polakov5 years ago in Fiction
Hawaiian Vacation
Miranda checked her watch. It was only five minutes past the last time she checked it. “Today is just dragging,” she muttered under her breath. On the surface, the day was just like any other Friday. However, this Friday was special. She and her family were leaving on their week-long vacation to Hawaii that afternoon. Miranda had started planning this trip over a year ago and even though she was the top executive of one of the largest advertising firms in the country, she had very little time with her family. Her career was very demanding, requiring her to work long hours and most weekends.
By MELISSA E. PROPER5 years ago in Fiction
A Box of Trouble
Sitting on the cold bench was no fun. The wind from the trains whistling exacerbated it. I checked my package next to me. It was a plain-looking package wrapped in brown paper, about as big as a lunch box. I wondered why they needed our special service. Our cost was fifty times what they'd pay for UPS or DHL. And the customer had to insure the contents. I'm with Talents Unlimited Inc. Although we courier valuable parcels, that's not our primary business. Like our name says, we supply talent most companies can't or won't. From bodyguards to Lear Jet pilots to engineers. An Aussie, Charlotte Jones owned the company. She moved to Ft Worth, Texas and hung out her shutter ten years ago.
By William Stinson5 years ago in Fiction
