Category: Short Story

  • The Inn of Sin

    It was snowing heavily as the man in the brown coat entered the lone inn in the middle of nowhere. Little did he know that he had just entered the jaws of death.

    The innkeeper was a kind old lady who showed him to his room. It was a creaky, dim-lit building but that did not seem to bother him. ”The ferocity of this storm may last a few days, but no worries, I have a feeling that something interesting will happen soon. Hopefully, it will not be a total bore for you, dear,” the old lady said with a sly grin. As the man in brown sat on his bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He could feel it. A set of eyes. Staring. Straight. At. Him. 

     

    It was half-past 12 when he heard it. A shriek, so loud, that it may as well have awakened the dead. He and three others rushed toward the noise. There, at the entrance of the inn, the old lady lay there in a pool of blood. The man in brown checked her pulse, then shook his head. “What in god’s name happened here?” asked a man in blue, trembling in fear. He was a small, skinny fellow, with a mustache that did not fit his face. “Well, my good sir, it seems as if the innkeeper was killed by something that struck the back of her head,” calmly replied a young man in dark spectacles. Then there was silence, everyone still in awe of what was in front of them. “Well, I’m not staying in this house of horrors,” the man in blue announced as he stormed to the door. But it wouldn’t budge. The man in blue tugged and kicked it. It was futile. The door would not open. They were stuck. And one of them, guilty.

     

    The four of them, all four suspects in the murder, then gathered in the main room. The man in blue, a duke, Nathaniel Poe. The man concealing his eyes with spectacles, Arthur Shelley, a chemist. The tall woman, Theda Lux the traveler. And the man in the brown coat, the writer Nox Ray. Nox smiled, finally something interesting. Now, the game has begun.

     

    The group decided to split up and look for any clues. A foolish move. As Nox went back to the scene of the crime, he noticed something odd. A small black button. Fascinating. He slipped it into his pocket and continued to look around. Nothing more out of place.

     

    As Nox returned to the main room, he noticed Arthur and Theda already there. How peculiar. It turned out they didn’t find anything out of the ordinary anywhere else. ”Find anything?” Theda asked. Just a button he responded. “One clue…how disappointing,” she stated as she went back to staring at the clock on the wall. Tick-Tock. Then he felt it, the piercing eyes. Nox felt a shiver down his spine as he asked, “Where’s Nathaniel?”

     

    They found his limp, lifeless corpse in a chair within one of the many rooms. Cause of death–slashed throat. As Nox examined the scene, he found another clue. A silver shilling. Without a single drop of blood. That struck down a motive. Greed. This meant the killer was smug, careless. He had the time to slip out unnoticed, throwing off the trail. Or so he thought. Though there was one fatal mistake.

     

    “It’s you,” Nox declared as he took a sip of the tea that lay on top of the dresser. He pointed at Arthur. Arthur raised his eyebrow, “And why would that be?” The piercing eyes seemed unphased. “Elementary, the button I found near the innkeeper matches the design of the button on your coat and the abandoned shilling represents that the person must not care much for the money. Additionally, the physical injuries the victims received must have been from someone slightly muscular. And plus, the throat wound was aimed to look centered, however, it is clear the wound is more to the left, implying that the guilty party is blind or injured in their right eye. Now, will you take off your spectacles, Arthur?” Arthur struggled and slightly grinned. “What’s the point? You’re already dead.” Nox’s vision started to blur. The tea. Poison. Who placed the tea there? There are two. Nox’s eyes then met the set of cold staring eyes that stalked him. “Well played, Theda.”

     

  • John P. Chandatlantic, Series 1 Finale

    “Dude, I think I really messed up this time. I think I messed up bad.”

    Evan didn’t even bother rolling his eyes. He just kept right on staring at his phone. Eventually, probably realizing that he really did want to hear what I was talking about, he grunted out, “Okay, what’s up?”

    “So I was on a date with Jazz last Sunday–”

    “So yesterday.”

    “Shut up, smartarse. Anyway, we were on a date and she said the L-word.”

    “What? Really? You’re freaking out over the saying ‘I love you’? That’s weak dude.”

    “What? No, we’ve been saying that for weeks.”

    “Aw, aren’t you guys just freaking adorable.”

    I swear, if he was the kind of dude who spit on school campuses, Evan would’ve right there. What the hell is up with him?

    “Dude, what’s up with you?”

    “What’s up with you?! All you ever do these days is complain about her. Jesus, just break up with her already.”

    “What the hell dude? No!”

    “I mean, I vent to you sometimes, but that’s just when I need to vent. Everyone needs to vent sometimes. And most of the crap I tell you are my goofs anyway. Like, dude, our relationship is pretty great. I love her. Love the hell out of her. She’s, like, awesome.”

    “No you don’t.”

    “Yes I do. Screw you.”

    “Screw you! She’s not right for you, I’m telling you.”

    “You like her! You do! That’s why you’re always hanging around us! I’ve seen you glaring when I kiss her!”

    Why am I saying this? He’s pissed me off. Crap. I don’t like this. I don’t want to be angry with him. I don’t like being angry. People say things they don’t want to when they’re angry. He’s quiet. When does this class end? Stupid finals schedule. We didn’t even do anything. Last day of finals though. The bell rings. Freaking finally. Evan doesn’t rush out. I try to meet his eye.

    “I’m sorry dude. I got carried away.” He looks into his bag, then throws it over his shoulder and looks me full in the face. Has he always been this much taller than me?

    “It’s not Jazz I like, dude. It’s you.”

    And he turned and walked out, way too dramatically. I wait a second, processing, then run out of the bungalow after him. He’s speed walking, I can’t reach him. Jazz and I have plans after school anyway. There’s a cafe up the road that she recommends. Apparently, they’ve got great pancakes. That’ll be a good setting to talk about Jazz’s illness. I guess this proves it though. I can finally stop calling myself a freshman.

  • The Serialized Adventures of John P. Chandatlantic, Part 2

    Part 1 of the “John P. Chandatlantic” was published in the High Life on February 23

    I heard a senior call the area between the 200 Building and the 300 Building as “The Meadow.” I like that. It’s cute. A good place for flowers and bunnies and—crap, Dad has me making Jackrabbit puns.
    Everyday when he drops me off he always says, “All right, hop along now, have a good day.” Every. Single. Day. Hop along.

    Oh, who am I kidding, I love puns. Last Thursday in math, the girl who sits behind me was talking to her friend and her friend says, “Dude, my sister literally locked me out. I had to climb the tree up to my window!” The other girl goes, “Wow, you’re really branching out.” So I turned around and was like, “I cannot be-leaf you just said that.” She laughed and then I didn’t really know what to say so I just turned back around. Nobody said anything for a little while so I kinda half-turned around; then realized I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. Then I turned around and asked if she would be interested in Batman Club.

    She was kinda cute actually…

    I still haven’t really found a lunch group yet. Most days I just chill in Mr. A’s room during lunch. My friend Evan and I play Speed. Sometimes when the computers are open we’ll find some stupid browser game to play together, so that’s fun. And there’s Batman Club once a week. We just get together and Mr. Maddison plays episodes of the Batman Cartoon. Evan comes with me, when he remembers. There are usually one or two other kids, and sometimes we chat.
    I still haven’t really found my niche though.

    But the other day I was looking out of Mr. Maddison’s window— that one that can’t close because it’s broken— and down into the Meadow and I noticed that she was sitting there, laughing and chatting with some of my classmates. There were little white flowers in the grass and a couple of her friends were making dandelion-bracelets for each other. I knew everyone she was with; most of them I talk to in class.

    On screen, Batman punched the crook off a dock and the end of lunch bell rang. Evan threw his arm around my shoulder and dragged me off to my next class.

  • The Serialized Adventures of John P. Chandatlantic, Part 1

    Can I stop calling myself  Freshman now? It’s second semester now, so, like, I’m sorta not that fresh anymore. I know my way around, I can find classrooms and stuff. I found that club – damn, forgot to go again. Still haven’t been in the 500 building though. That’s weird. I don’t think I’ve been in the cafeteria since orientation day either…

    Jackie says I’m a freshman until I have my first bit of drama. I’m not doing that. I saw what she was like in her freshman year. I had to live with her during her most diva-ish moments. Jackie is, of course, my sister. She’ll graduate at the end of this year. Sometimes she’s a pain, but the rest of the time she’s… well, a pain, but she’s a pain who at least cares about her kid brother. I wish she’d drive me home, but I know that if I need her she’ll be there. I’m pretty sure she could beat up most of my classmates if they started picking on me. I don’t think I’ll need it, but it’s still good to have a safety net like that.

    I was picking at the ASB sticker on my ID earlier. I don’t know why mom got it. I’m never going to use it. I mean, I like football and I do know some of the players, but I just don’t think I’ll ever go to a game. I enjoy  my Friday nights. It’s the one night I know Jackie will be out and I don’t have homework and Mom and Dad usually go out to dinner. I can just play Fallout in peace. I like my friends, they’re awesome, but I like alone time, y’know? It lets me reflect on the week while venting my frustration into some mutants.

    Like last week-ohgod, I don’t know why, but I swear Mrs. Cotner hates me. I was talking in class, yea, but not loud or anything, and she wasn’t even talking – we were just doing bookwork – I had a question so I asked the guy next to me and she snapped at me like what am I supposed to do? Then she says if I have a question, I should ask her and I did and she was like, “well I explained that earlier, you’ve got to do this this and this” but I just didn’t get it. It just didn’t click, y’know?  I dunno, maybe that’s just how high school is. How would I know; I’m just a freshman.