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Latest Stories

May 17, 2022
Flash Fiction Sharmila Ghosal

The Fateful Evening

Barrackpore, a small town was situated a few kilometres from Kolkata. My father had recently been transferred here from the State Bank of India Kolkata branch. Life was enjoyable. Every day in the evening I would go for a walk near the riverside with Malati…
May 14, 2022
Flash Fiction Ben Macnair

A Conversation With Your Seven Year Old Self

The first thing you notice about him is the jumper he's wearing. it is one like you had when you were younger. You wore it out, you liked it so much. This jumper is a lot newer than the old one you had. The colours are brighter, it is a better fit. Then you…
May 14, 2022
General Stories Yolanda Billingsley

The Prophet Who Struck At Midnight

Introduction Prophetess Tanya didn’t just attend Church ; she considered herself to be the epitome of all that Church should be. She was religious and loved it. She was a prosperous business woman, she wore the finest clothes and shoes and always had a…
May 14, 2022
Mystery Stories Beauty Anyanwu

Of Fire And Heartbreak

AGATA'S POV Nasty C said ‘we start to question GOD like we can play his part’ and nothing has resonated with me so much in my entire life. When I think of the butterfly effect, and how the flap of a wing can change the course of our life—I remember those…
May 14, 2022
General Stories Luke Beling

The Rosebush

"We're going to revisit your blood, run some extra tests since it's your third miscarriage in as many years, Mrs. Cozbi." Susan stared into Dr. Tims' cold eyes, one hand gripping Chuck, the other the arm of the teak chair. "I thought it was because the fetus…
May 13, 2022
Horror Stories Pavan Kumar

A Grisly Party

Albert hosts a party to his coterie of friends on the eve of getting a promotion and increment in the salary. Three of his friends (Michael, Peter, and Robinson) attend the party in the evening and fill the aura of his house with excitement and joy. An old…
May 13, 2022
Crime Stories Doug Jacquier

If You Cuckolded Me, I’d Have To Kill You

It was a fact that Phil had organised for Matthew to die. Phil took full responsibility but there would be no trial. He could have confessed but he chose not to. On principle. When the Reverend Matthew Patterson and his wife, Penny, moved in next door they…
May 13, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Marvel Of The Freedom

In patches The vault opens oneself at dawn. The calyx of an Arctic alpine forget-me-not reopens for an enchanting glory of the sunshiny dreams, because of the eternally august poem, that reads lenient and benignant. Throughout the day: there is up there a…
May 13, 2022
Crime Stories Mike Merchant

The Molly Prom

The airpods looked like pallid worms crawling into Robby’s brain. Or maybe crawling out, leaving a nest of annelids inside. His slack jaw and laugh-at-anything smile suggested the latter. His head bobbed to the music like a tzadik at the wailing wall. “Yo,…
April 20, 2022
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

She

Everything about her was human except she wasn’t. She was humanoid. Model SHE0456. Her male counterpart was a HE. Her name was Mira. She was a generation three model SHE. She was fifty-seven years old but didn’t look a day over twenty. She kept herself well.…
April 20, 2022
Horror Stories Alexander James

3:33 AM

Ever since they moved into her grandmother’s old house way on top of Bannockburn Hill, he had woken up every morning at 3:33 A.M. without fail. He hated the old house. He hated the way it creaked and moaned. The way it seem to attract the wailing wind on cold…
April 20, 2022
Crime Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Dead Dogs Are Good Dogs

Sweetheart, I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen if you drink with me tonight. First we’ll get talking, then we’re going to laugh a bit, and then we’ll hit our third drink each, and I’ll be in your lap crying like a baby. I haven’t held a woman…

I was in the car with my boyfriend Steven Elms, barreling down the highway since we decided to take a trip to Weeping Island, Georgia the week after our high school graduation. It didn’t even matter that we were both going to Brown in the fall because this was our last opportunity for hedonistic fun before buckling down in college.

“This is going to be so epic Steven, “ I said.

“I know.”

I wiped a tear from my right eye. “I’ve always wanted to go back to Georgia because I have a lot of fond memories of vacations with my Grandparents.”

More tears came to my eyes at the thought of my Grandparents since they had been dead for several years now, and my memories could thus be compared to a house going up in flames since they were oddly familiar as opposed to being concrete.

Steven took his focus off the road, staring me down. “Do you want to talk about it Teddy?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Steven and I arrived in Weeping Island, Georgia three hours later while we drove across the bridge to get to the island.

The sky was naked in blue without any hint of cotton circles as the palm trees swayed in the warm wind while Steven and I continued traveling down the main roads.

My stomach twisted in ten different directions since there didn’t appear to be anyone else on the island so far. It was also weird the island had sepia splattered everywhere. Oh well! Other people would appear in time. There was no doubt about it.

I gazed out the window as the outline of a silver milky figure stood out at me before I blinked and it was gone.

“Something wrong?” Steven asked.

I shook my head. “No. Everything is great. I couldn’t be happier.”

Steven snickered. “Even I don’t believe that.”

“I just want this to be a memorable trip.”

“It will be. Just think of the trip like your first impression of me. You thought I was flaky and cold, but I proved you wrong.”

I exhaled a long breath. “I guess you have a point.”

I ended up spotting someone a few minutes later as the person happened to be plopped down on a bench on Main Street, and it was something at least even if I needed more convincing that Weeping Island remained a premium vacation spot.

***

Steven and I stood in an office sometime later as the two of us were in the process of checking into the bed and breakfast.

“It’s so great to have some life in this place again,” said the keeper of the bed and breakfast.

I opened the guest book to sign Steven and I in while my heart thumped inside my chest after realizing there were no signatures from the last year.

“How come there haven’t been any other visitors lately?” I asked after scribbling both of our names in the guest book.

The man shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I guess people are watching their finances.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah. That must be it.”

***

Steven placed his suitcase on the bed before turning to look at me a few minutes after we arrived at our room. “I’m going to take a shower. But when I’m done why don’t we grab a bite at Belle Isle? I hear they have the best Key Lime Pie in all of Georgia.”

My mouth watered at the mention of Key Lime Pie. “Sure. I’d love to go.”

Steven shut the door behind him after going into the bathroom, and it wasn’t long before the sound of shower water echoed through the room.

I finished unpacking a few minutes later while the sound of running water continued splashing in the bathroom as a blood written message formed on one of the mirrors: You better leave while you still can.

Steven shuffled out of the bathroom, donning a towel that covered him from the waist down. “Something wrong Teddy?”

I continued gasping and it didn’t take long for Steven to see what puzzled me.

“I didn’t write that Steven.”

The blood drained from his cheeks, turning them pale. “I didn’t say that you did.”

“I think we should go home.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “We can’t. My father will be annoyed if we leave early since he was the one that paid for the vacation.”

I scoffed. “Okay. Fine. But if anything happens, I’m going to sue your father.”

I fumbled around one of the drawers while Steven got dressed as a photograph that was dated 1898 popped out at me since the man had an uncanny resemblance to the keeper of the bed and breakfast. The person must have been a relative of the keeper of the bed and breakfast or something. It wasn’t a big deal though since people had doppelgangers all the time.

***

We sat down on the bed in our room at the bed and breakfast after returning from dinner hours later.

“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?” he asked.

I averted my gaze, looking down at the carpet. “No. Not really.”

He patted my shoulder. “Come on. You’ll feel better if you let it out.”

I coughed, clearing my throat. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think I saw someone who was drenched in silver from head to toe when we arrived on the island.”

He furrowed an eyebrow. “Are you saying that you saw a ghost?”

I nodded at him. “Yeah. I am.”

“That’s interesting.”

My pulse increased, shooting blood through my veins as someone might as well have lit my blood on fire. “I hope you don’t think I’m crazy.”

“No. Of course not.”

Steven squeezed my hand.

I sighed. “Thanks. I appreciate your support.”

***

I stared into the bathroom mirror the following morning while brushing my teeth as I spotted the reflection of a ghost girl.

“Did you hear about the massacre in 1899?” The girl’s squeal lingered in the air for a moment. “The town went boom, and 25 people were shot at the Founders’ Day Party on Main Street.”

 

The toothbrush fell from my hand as I continued gazing at her before I grabbed my iPhone and snapped a photo of the girl before she disappeared.

***

Steven and I went to an outdoor café for breakfast later in the morning while the wind whistled in the background, causing the air to smack our faces.

I slid my iPhone across the table. “You have to see this.”

His eyelids widened. “What am I looking at?”

I forced a polite expression. “I took a photo of a ghost I saw this morning. But just so you know, this island seems pretty messed up.”

His jaw shook. “Oh God.”

“That’s not even the half of it. There was a shooting on Main Street during Weeping Island’s Founders’ Day Party 100 years ago.”

Sweat dripped down his face. “I guess we got more than we bargained for.”

“Yeah, we did.”

***

Steven and I rested in bed a couple of mornings later while something brushed up against my face. I opened my eyes, discovering the same ghost girl I’d seen before in the bathroom now hovered less than a foot away from me as my numerous possessions started floating in the air for a minute before they crashed to the ground.

I darted out of bed, chasing after the girl even though she ended up going through a wall in the hallway.

I let out a loud scream. “Damn!”

Someone tapped my back a moment later, and I whipped my body around to see who it was.

He folded his arms. “What’s going on? I thought we were going to take it easy this morning.”

“I saw the ghost again,” I said, attempting to ignore the burning sensation in my throat. “And I think we should give some serious thought to leaving Steven because I signed up for romance and fun, not a haunted house.”

“I already told you that isn’t an option Teddy.”

***

I woke up to the smell of smoke hitting my nostrils the next day as I then ran out of bed, opening the door to discover a fire spreading down the hallway.

The cracklings of red, orange, and yellow increased in size while zooming closer and closer.

The hairs on my back pricked up a moment later since I realized the keeper of the bed and breakfast never came to find Steven and I even though he said he needed to talk to us.

I continued standing there while it hit me. The keeper of the bed and breakfast didn’t have an uncanny resemblance to the man in the photograph from 1898. He was the man in the photograph.

I whirled around, resisting the urge to scream at the keeper of the bed and breakfast as he continued hovering in midair. Although this time he was drenched in a milky mixture of silver, revealing his true form.

“I know who you are.” I forced a gulp of air into my lungs. “You’re a ghost as I saw the photo of you from 1898. Did you die in the massacre in 1899?”

“You have to get out of here.” His eyes dilated to the point they almost oozed out of their sockets. “I wanted to warn you, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“Who wouldn’t let you?”

The ghost drifted through the wall in the hallway, leaving me to myself.

I scurried back to the room and shook Steven, causing him to open his eyes.

“There’s a fire and we have to get out of here. P.S. the keeper of the bed and breakfast is a ghost,” I said.

“What the hell?”

“Come on! Let’s go.” I pulled him out of bed while he got up and put his shoes on as I did the same. Steven grabbed his iPhone and car keys as I felt my iPhone in the pocket of my shorts.

He pouted. “What about our stuff.”

“We don’t have time because we have to leave NOW!”

We darted out of the room, racing towards the stairwell before descending the staircase while a blood written message formed on the wall: Secrets only stay hidden as long as people are dead.

The two of us had little time to react since Steven and I plowed down the rest of the stairs, making our way towards the front of the house.

The ignition made a clunky sound when Steven started the car a minute later while a sea of red, orange, and yellow flames swallowed the house that was formerly the bed and breakfast.

A blood message soon appeared in the sky, which read: Leave and never come back, causing me to scream.

“Start driving you fool,” I said.

Steven sped away as the property got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

The ghost girl reappeared when we crossed the bridge, and I half expected her to snap her fingers and have us fall into the lake. But she didn’t because she was gone when I opened my eyes after blinking a few times.

As the next few years went by, Weeping Island still haunted me because there were times I swore I saw the ghost girl from the bed and breakfast. But not having proof didn’t matter because it was one of those things that remained true even if it was an enigma.

Although at least I didn’t have to go through it alone because Steven and I would be together forever, and that was all that mattered.

 

End

 

Chris Bedell's previous publishing credits include essays on the

online magazine Thought Catalog. He has also had 5 stories published

on online literary magazines, which include "Surface Tension" on Crab

Fat Literary Magazine, "A Little Accident" and "The House That Never

Was" on Quail Bell Magazines, and "The Wrong Murder" and "Game Over"

on Short-story.me. Furthermore, Pidgeonholes Magazine will publish one

of his stories in December.

 

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