Mystery

The Mystery of Christopher Topper's Head
The police were almost certain that the package contained the remains of Christopher Topper. Almost certain, because they never found his head and without that, the identification always had to remain slightly hazy. It was 1959 and there was no such thing as DNA testing, no means of linking one Topper with another, so they did the best they could with what they had, which proved to be a pair of legs, a torso, and a pair of arms, all dismembered and neatly arranged in a package that was then wrapped in brown paper and left at Warrington train station.
By Sophie Jackson5 years ago in Fiction
Big Boys Don't Cryo
“Did any of you guys order anything in the last few days?” yelled Saskia as she attempted to manoeuvre around the box in the hallway so she could reach the front door. Its presence made getting through a habitually cluttered space even more precarious, and she swore loudly as she whacked her ankle on the mudguard on Tom's bike. That would be another gripe to be added to Saskia's list at the flat meeting that evening. If she could be bothered to host it in this heat.
By Bryan Hallett5 years ago in Fiction
DECLUTTERING
“There’s something else here!” Mia tugs on the pile of old man clothes in the musty closet. It collapses, dusting her dark, curly hair in a waft of mould and dust. She emerges clutching a brown-paper wrapped package, shoe-box sized.
By Fiona Hamer5 years ago in Fiction
Spirits.
It was not the contents of the dream that haunted me; it was the familiarity of it all. Every crevice of the room felt to be lived-in, not just by its natural deterioration from years of neglect, but as though I’d been squatting in it for days on-end. The Sun slipping through the cracks of the ceiling made it all-the-more surreal; it was dusk and I didn’t want to be there. Perhaps this torn-up warehouse was never to be a final stopping-point, or even a pitstop, but nevertheless there was not an end in sight.
By J.C. Traverse5 years ago in Fiction
To George Denton
George Denton was late for the market. Not that the market was expecting him, or that anyone was there waiting for him, but it was Thursday and it was nearly 10:00, and every Thursday at 10:00 George went to the market.
By Kari McLeese5 years ago in Fiction
State Of Confusion
"Where are they, I have been waiting here for two days" Dan clasped his face as he looked in the mirror, " I look like crap, what is going on, my head is pounding" Dan reached into the medicine cabinet and downed a couple of headache pills, he leant into the tap and drank straight from the stream. He noticed spots of blood on the basin, he looked more closely at his hands and could see abrasions over his knuckles. Dan was confused; he couldn't remember much as he ambled back into the living area. He scanned the room and all he could see was a sleeping bag in the corner, some empty packets of chips, three empty bottles of scotch, some dirty socks and a brown paper box. “Whoa, that's not good” Dan could see his daughter crying inside his head, it felt so real like she was really there, he could hear her sobs echoing through the empty house. He picked up his phone and dialled his wife’s number “ Hi this is Sascha as you might be aware I can't take your call right now please leave me a message and I will get back to you, bye” Beep “ hey baby it’s Daniel where are you? I thought the moving van was meant to get here yesterday, I got so drunk I can’t remember a thing! Can you give me a c..” Beep “ aaagh damn it!” Dan through down his phone and picked up the brown paper box it was labelled #17423562 Terusso. He started to open the lid when he heard a loud clunk coming from the neighbours house, he put down the box and walked over to the window. He could see a man dragging someone down the steps into a basement, she had a gag in her mouth and she was kicking and fussing, he was having trouble getting her down the stairs. Dan reached for his gun “Where is it” he searched the room and couldn’t find it. In all of Dan’s 17 years as a city Detective he had never misplaced his firearm. “ Something doesn’t feel right’ Dan had that feeling and it cut right through him, there was something familiar about this moment.
By RWG5 years ago in Fiction
"Emancipation Of Uncle Samson"
R “Emancipation Of Uncle Samson” He suddenly jerked awake, sweating profusely. He sat still on the bed mopping at nothing in particular, even the walls opposite him, he was not seeing. 15 minutes later, after a cup of cold water and visit to the toilet, he went back to sleep.
By Philip Ebuluofor5 years ago in Fiction
Return to sender
I guess who I am is irrelevant to the story, but what I did and why this brown paper box comes to me every year is what's going to blow your mind. I did something bad. I mean really bad. I have some issues with alcohol. I did all the things that come along with being an alcoholic. I also did the worst thing you could do as a drunk. I was at my favorite bar during the day drinking my favorite whiskey. When I was done I grabbed my car keys and began my drive home. Don't be alarmed because I would eventually tell this to the police, but we will get to this later. I would drink and drive on a regular basis because I knew my path home like the back of my hand. Even if I was blind I could drive home, that's how good I was. This particular day, my route was changed due to the big orange barrels that were blocking the road. I turned down a side street to go around, and she came out of nowhere, she had to be no more than six years old. No parents were around, the street was empty. No one came outside. I killed her. I saw the blood coming from her nose and ears. Her body was shaking, then she stopped. I panicked, I'm well off, and I have a high position at a major company, My wife, my kids. I have too much to lose, so I left. I know, what a crappy thing to do. I do think about her. A six year old child. I left her in the street dead. I went home and cleaned the blood off my car in the garage. My mind was racing. My wife said something to me but for the life of me, I can not tell you anything that she said that day. I couldn't tell you what anyone said that day for that matter. I hid, I watched the news trying to see if anything would come up about a hit and run. All the channels had nothing. I called all the hospitals and they didn't have any kids come in hit by a car. Part of me was relieved. I tried to rationalize what happened. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe it was in my mind. Maybe I was so drunk I just thought that happened. I stayed home in bed for the next few days. I didn't drink, I didn't think about drinking, I just slept. My wife and kids thought I was sick. I was scared I would lose everything I built over this.
By Chad Sims5 years ago in Fiction
Memories on a Bench
Vivien knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. “it’s too cold today mom” she could hear the scolding in her mind. After raising six children, who’d given her 24 grandchildren and 45 great grandchildren so far (and one on the way), she was now deemed unfit to walk alone outside in late Autumn. She liked the cold, and the ducks, and the freedom. So with her little canvas bag of birdseed she walked through the park to her usual Sunday bench by the mostly ice covered pond. The birds who had adopted her through her weekly visits came running towards her, she gave them a smile rich with the wrinkles a full life brings. She reached in the bag “Just a pinch for now, you gotta wait until I sit these old bones down before you get the rest.” She sat down with all the grace and caution her age had earned her and noticed a package on the frosty bench beside her. A small box wrapped in plain brown paper. She picked it up and saw a note on it. “To the kind soul who finds this, please open with love.”
By Molimo5 years ago in Fiction
Box from the Past
Lana was an outgoing young lady, with dark eyes and a pale complexion. She was an outgoing person even on her worst days. Lana never met a stranger and enjoyed all life had to offer, but not because she led an easy life, given everything she wanted. In fact, it was quite the opposite, she lost both of her parents at a very young age.
By Laura Loflin5 years ago in Fiction
Broken
As she flicked the lights off a flash of light flooded the room filling the shadows. A loud crack of thunder followed just as she reached the front door.
By Khrystal Palmer5 years ago in Fiction
The Store
*somewhere, in a town nobody has ever heard of, at around 7:15am* You’d be driving, and you’d be hungry. 'Honestly, all I want is some chips' you might think, eyeing the cornfields engulfing you. You’d be so hungry, that you might almost drive past the store. A store so small you’d miss it if you blinked. You might pull into the parking lot, and if you did, there would probably be one or two cars there. This was typical.
By Luna5 years ago in Fiction