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Looking for a steady supply of mystery short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.
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We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $250!
Sun-kissed skin absorbed the warm rays beaming down onto it. The day was bright, but her smile was brighter. Immense feelings of love hit deep in Harper’s stomach, but hesitation held her back from expressing her thoughts. Harper loved to admire Mia. Her dirty blond hair, golden complexion, the way she moved, her smile, Harper couldn’t get enough of Mia. Harper herself was short and pale with brown shoulder-length hair. The two were opposites in appearance. Dancing around a dorm room had never been Harper’s thing, but anything was possib...
Being a newbie in the workforce is not all sunshine and rainbows, it's blood, sweat, and tears, literally.•••••••••"Lukas!" Someone yelled, but Lukas knew who it was Detective Ulysses, his mentor and trainer. Ul...
Myrilius raised his Staff of Fire towards the Ancient White Dragon and started muttering his incantations. Once finished, his eyes glowed as he brought his Staff down into the ground. He smiled as the flames rippled outwards from him like an apocalyptic tsunami. The ice dragon screeched as it fell from the skies, Myrilius’ party staring in awe as- “Oh, shoot! My phone’s ringing. I’ll be right back.” I left as my friends shouted out complaints. I went i...
Write a murder mystery with an amateur sleuth who must navigate a fantastical world in a quest to discover the truth. Snip, snap, zip. Just like that: dead. He believed, as a hired contractual specialist, in sealing his kills in a bag, helped keep loose body parts from falling off as he hauled them away, no sense in littering, too; he was all for a green planet. Also ran a recycling shop: selling used body parts: heads,...
Mr Herbert Billingsley, the curator of the griffinology department at the Central Museum, was murdered in his office at seventeen minutes past two by creature or creatures unknown. Detectives Blitz and Blunt, who were only slightly less dumb than they looked, had no trouble establishing this once they arrived on the scene.They were met by a crowd of excited curators, historians and archaeologists, who filled the corridor outside the office.“We heard shouting,” someone said when the detectives approached.“And crashes!”...
“I’m the team captain, for my sins,” Flora Fenton said, every few days. Or sometimes a few times every day. Nobody was deluded, and probably Flora herself (and say what you liked about her, she wasn’t stupid) wasn’t either. Had anyone suggested that someone other than Flora should be the captain of the Archer’s Arms pub quiz team, then Flora’s sin might well be murder. Or at least GBH. Nobody did suggest it. And her teammates tolerated her with resigned good humour. Anything she didn’t know...
His cellar is dark, but the Bottler knows its cataloged contents better than anyone. He peruses the shelves which contain his private collection of bottles, his fingers carefully lingering on one in particular. This specimen is a larger bottle that has been rubbed and polished enough that the cheap, gold veneer is changing color and wearing through. For a moment, he becomes abstractly aware of the darker emotions he once possessed and their associated memories, but it is difficult to reconstruct them. What remains in the bottles tell t...
As anyone over the age of thirty, Captain Lona Honder had a particular pining, at times, for the "good old days." Though, to be fair, that sort of thing usually entailed cheerful anecdotes about flashy cars and better beer and a downright suspicious amount of sunshine, while he contented himself with one extremely practical feature of his days on the Force, which played at the keys of Nostalgia with the maestro's zeal. "Would it be too much," he wondered aloud, "to have a normal murder for once?" He'd given...
“How long after you been a detective?” the lead command, Albert asked Nelson. “It will soon be a year,” replied Nelson, thinking the man should already know this. “Then you will be perfect for this case,” said Albert. “This case needs to be one who is not set in hi...
Brown eyes peeked above the pages. A Study in Scarlet, the cover read, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Across the room, a large barrel-shaped man, a holstered gun at his side, an air of importance about him, shook hands with another man. He wore an ink-black suit, a briefcase curled into one palm, large round glasses nestled on the bridge of his crooked nose."I just don't get it." The coroner said, shaking his head. "Who would do something like that to someone like Atticus Green?"Elise King watche...
Jane rubbed her eyes and glanced lovingly at the coffee machine, humming to life as usual on a Monday morning. Ever since moving to Minnesota with her husband, Charlie, and their two kids the previous year, Jane found it hard to wake up. Something about the cool Minnesota mornings encouraged her to stay in bed. “You feel it too?” She asked Piper, ...
Sheoak loved the smells of her world. It was the perfumes of nature on the wind of the forest at night. With her almond eyes closed and her sharp ears listening Sheoak could see the silver owl drop from a branch and narrow in on its prey, a silent hunter. The babble of the brook called to her telling her secrets as did the whisper of the wind through each branch, caressing each leaf. The forest was her home, the home of her people and she knew each and every inch intimately. That was why it was such a shock for the elf when she discovered...
Goodwin couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that he was missing something. He closed his eyes. The house was quiet. Too quiet, he thought wryly, and winced at the cliche. Where were the gossiping neighbours, the reporters’ phones buzzing and chirping like insects? He had clicked off his radio so he could bloody well string two words together, but he couldn’t even hear the busybodies stomping through the daisies.He stuck his fingers in his ears and swallowed hard. Sound rattled back with a pressurised pop...
“Detective James, get in here!”, called my boss. He does that every day, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m an intern because he only ever wants me to go on coffee runs. I walked into his office. “Yes, Detective Patterson?” “I need you to drive down to the lab, and see if you can get me a lead on that new missing person case.” Seriously! After six months of intern work, I finally have a case! I went to the science lab downtow...
DRYADS, FAERIES, NYMPHS I stare at the dead body in disgust, my boss, Marty Graham looks over it with a certain clarity and calmness I wish to possess as a detective one day. I try to hide my grimace as he stands up and looks at me.“Minete, its fine to feel queasy, I felt like that on my first days to.”He places a firm hand on my shoulder and gives a comforting nudge. “You get used to it. Now tell me what’s the first thing you see on the body.”I step a little closer to the body, for...
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