Mystery

The Alamo Mystery History Missed
The Alamo Mystery History Missed— Seeing Through the Smoke By: Liam Einhorn Before I begin, if you haven't read America's Unsung and Unseen Occult Operatives, you should jump back and read that first—because without it, we wouldn't be here today at all.
By Tales from a Madman8 days ago in Fiction
Above From Below: Part 4
Rick Steele drove away from the bar and headed toward home. There was a period during the rainy season when the locals got a break, the first time in a while, he could drive without using his wipers. He had a lot to think about. What Major Kohl shared with him about his brother’s death had his head spinning. There was something more to his death than the locals in Texas had found.
By The Man Behind The Mask8 days ago in Fiction
My Grandfather Left Me a Wooden Statue, and Now I Hear it Moving at Night
When my Grandfather Elias passed away, he left me his cabin in the Pacific Northwest and a single, life-sized wooden carving he called "The Elderknot."
By The Glitch Archive8 days ago in Fiction
True Story
“True story,” is how she starts every story before launching into the most implausible tale. Last night, she claimed the moon was stalking her, said she caught it, shrank it to marble size. I chuckled until she reached into her pocket and pulled out the luminous orb.
By Tina D. Lopez8 days ago in Fiction
A Bar Worth Two Stars
It was one of those days. The sun was already setting and the last glimpse of light reflected off the dirty windows of the familiar sign - the bar.
By Vincent Palmer 9 days ago in Fiction
The Curator's Last Exhibition. AI-Generated.
The Hartwell Museum closed its doors at precisely 6 PM every evening, but tonight, someone had chosen to stay. Dr. Evelyn Cross found the body at 6:47 PM, sprawled beneath the Caravaggio in Gallery Seven. Marcus Hendricks, the museum's head curator, lay face-up on the polished marble floor, his eyes fixed on the painting above him—*The Taking of Christ*. A single playing card, the Queen of Spades, rested on his chest.
By Alpha Cortex9 days ago in Fiction
The Manuscript Beneath the Monastery
I have long resisted telling this story—not because it lacks proof, but because the proof itself should never be uncovered again. Yet time has a way of eroding fear, and memory demands a voice. What I am about to recount is not invention, nor drunken folklore whispered in candlelit taverns. It is something I witnessed, something that followed me long after I fled the mountains of Transylvania.
By Gaurav Gupta9 days ago in Fiction
Whispers in the Fog: A Town That Never Sleeps
The town lay under a velvet fog that never fully lifted, its streets slick with damp and silence. Even the neon of the diner flickered with hesitation, as if unsure it should illuminate the night. The air carried a weight, a subtle hum that tugged at the edges of the mind—a whisper of things best left unspoken.
By Algieba9 days ago in Fiction
The Skull Washed Ashore
The Skull Washed Ashore The tide was slow that morning, dragging itself across the shore with a heavy sound that seemed to settle into the bones rather than pass through the ears, and the sky hung low in a dull grey weight that made the whole stretch of beach feel closed in, as though the world had narrowed to that one place and refused to open beyond it. I had walked there many times before, enough to know every shift in the sand and every curve of the shoreline, yet that day something felt wrong in a way that could not be easily named, something quiet and watchful that seemed to exist just beyond the edge of thought.
By George’s Girl 2026 9 days ago in Fiction
The True Story of the Bermuda Triangle
Year 1942 .... The night sea was black as ink. Waves whispered against the wooden hull, almost like the ocean itself was breathing. On deck, sailors squinted at their compasses, frowning. Something wasn’t right. The needles spun wildly, refusing to point north.
By Sakuni Bandara10 days ago in Fiction
The Prince
I am always fascinated by myths and fairy tales of different nations as they reflect the people's important memories and cultural beliefs. Since I am in Georgia-Sakartvelo now, I wanted to present a marque fairy tale from this land, rich in ancient oral and folk tradition.
By Lana V Lynx10 days ago in Fiction
Everyone Had a Number Above Their Head… Except Me
The first time I noticed it, I thought I was tired. It was a Monday morning, the kind that drags itself into your bones before your alarm even rings. I was standing in a crowded bus, sweat sticking to my back, when I looked up and saw it.
By Millicent Chisom10 days ago in Fiction