Tag Archives: fiction short story

Questionable Origins – Fiction Short Story — Drama

Thomas sat on the sofa, while his mother, Linda, was cleaning the living room.

‘Do you have work later, honey?’ she asked.

‘Nah, day off,’ replied Thomas.

‘Then get your butt off that sofa and help your mother with the chores so she can go do the groceries.’

Thomas rolled his eyes. He sighed.

‘Oh, poor you, a young man of twenty has to stand up. Meanwhile, your mother does everything around here.’

‘Yes, mother,’ sighed Thomas. ‘I’ll take care of the rest of the chores for you.’

‘Good!’ She giggled, squeezing his cheek and then handing him the vacuum cleaner.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Thomas began cleaning the bookshelf with the little vacuum brush. He paused, inclining his head and took out the photo album. He laughed as he flipped through the pages. His little sister’s face as a baby was so funny. She was adorable.

‘Hey, mom?’ asked Thomas. ‘Why don’t you have baby photos of me at the hospital?’

‘Oh, the camera was stolen, honey, before any photos could be developed,’ replied Linda.

‘Right, I remember now.’ Thomas put the album back and resumed cleaning as his mother stepped out the door.

A few moments later, the front door burst open as though a typhoon had just entered the house.

‘Guess who aced her math exam!?’ announced Sophie.

Thomas let everything fall to the floor, not bothering to shut the vacuum cleaner off, and ran to his sister, lifting her off the ground.

‘Congratulations, Sophie!’

They laughed. ‘Thank you, thank you.’ She bowed dramatically. ‘I definitely get my brains from dad, and not my brother.’

Thomas playfully shoved her.

‘Mom’s got you cleaning on your day off?’ asked Sophie.

‘You guessed it.’

Sophie went to put her stuff away and do whatever it was she did when she came home from school before coming to help Thomas.

‘Ooh, photo album. You didn’t place it back properly.’

‘Whatever,’ laughed Thomas.

Sophie began realigning everything Thomas had vacuumed around, making sure everything was neat. ‘A shame mom and dad lost the photo album that contained your baby photos, eh?’

‘What do you mean?’ Thomas powered off the vacuum cleaner. ‘Mom told me the camera got stolen.’

‘Uh, no, I distinctly remember dad telling me the album was lost,’ corrected Sophie.

Thomas scowled. ‘Why would they tell each of us a different story?’

Sophie shrugged. ‘Beats me. Buuut, maybe they just misplaced it.’ Her face lit up. ‘Oh, I know, I bet it’s buried under piles of boxes in the attic!’

Sophie grabbed Thomas’s hand and began pulling him towards the attic’s hatch.

‘Seriously? You want to go looking for it now?’ complained Thomas.

‘No time like the present! Who knows, maybe we’ll find some skeletons up there.’

‘Why do I get the feeling you’d be excited if we actually did find real skeletons up there?’

‘Because you know your sister so well! Now come.’

Up in the attic, they sat cross-legged, rummaging through boxes and discarding anything that seemed unimportant.

‘Ooh, look at this. Mom and dad’s wedding photos,’ said Sophie.

‘Doesn’t look like our neighbourhood,’ noted Thomas.

‘No,’ Sophie flipped the photo, looking at what was written on the back. ‘Here it says, Saint-George Church.’ She paused. ‘Oh, that is way at the other end of the country.’

‘Huh, they never mentioned getting married there or moving,’ mused Thomas. ‘Strange.’

Sophie took something else out of the box. ‘It looks like there are a bunch of things from back then.’

She pulled out a baby onesie. ‘Oh, my god! This is so adorable!’ Her voice reached high-pitch levels Thomas wasn’t sure she had ever reached before.

‘Okay, you opera singer, don’t freak out,’ Thomas teased.

‘I bet you this was yours. Why would they keep it stashed away up here, though?’ Sophie turned her head and sneezed into her elbow. ‘Sorry.’

‘Bless you.’

Sophie dug into the box again, as Thomas took the baby onesie from her. It was yellow with little white bunnies on it. It was adorable.

‘Oh my god!’

Thomas looked up to see Sophie’s aghast face. He had never seen her like this before, and his heart immediately began to thump with worry.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

Sophie hesitated. She was holding a cut-out piece of newspaper.

Sophie began reading the article. ‘“After reporting her one-year-old son missing, Mrs. Deirdre Emerson was sentenced to life in prison for allegedly killing her son. She pleaded not guilty and maintains that she did not kill her son.’”

‘Okay? And?’ Thomas didn’t like the look on his sister’s face.

Sophie looked up at him. ‘You remember how I used to tease you all the time about your nose?’

‘Uh, yeah? Because my nose is significantly different from yours or mom’s or dad’s.’

Sophie handed him the news article. ‘That woman has your nose and is from the same town where mom and dad got married.’

Thomas took the article cutout and stared at the woman’s mugshot. He gently touched his nose. There was a distinguishable resemblance. The implications hit Thomas in the gut and he felt like the room was spinning.

‘Deep breaths.’ Sophie’s voice seemed distant. Thomas stared up at her, realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Suddenly every little inconsistency he’d noticed throughout the years and the strangeness of it all came crashing down. He gasped, putting a hand to his chest.

‘No, this isn’t possible.’

‘Don’t you want to find out the truth?’ insisted Sophie.

‘You’re romanticising,’ snapped Thomas. ‘It’s just a coincidence.’

‘Why would they keep this, then? Huh? And then why would they hide it in the attic?’ Sophie paused. ‘I think you were kidnapped, Thomas.’ Thomas heaved. Sophie pressed on. ‘If it was just a question of adoption, then this woman would not have been accused of killing her baby. Her baby disappeared, and it has to be you, it just has to be!’


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What Truly Lies At the Bottom of the Bermuda Triangle – Fiction Short Story — Science-Fiction (Sci-Fi) — Mystery

The Bermuda Triangle has been a subject of mystery for decades. It is unknown what truly lies at the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle. Hence, a team of scientists and researchers has been diligently striving to find a way to get down there and record their findings. What they found changes what has been canonically taught in science and history for centuries.

‘I got it!’ Eric enthused, running across the corridor and sliding into the main conference room where sat Esme, Jason and their project’s leader, Henry. ‘I got it working! No amount of magnetic pull or interference will affect the alloy!’

Henry grinned. ‘Well, then, we know what we have to do next. Good work, Eric!’

‘Thank you, Sir!’

Several weeks later.

Eric stood before the team, pacing to and fro excitedly as he explained everything they needed to know.

‘This way, the synthetic material that imitates metal but isn’t metal cannot be affected by anything that would otherwise affect any other type of metal found on this earth.’

He paused and pointed at the displayed image on the whiteboard. ‘Once the water pressure kicks in, it’ll be important that we don our suits. While the sub has all the necessary components to remain undamaged, were the unthinkable to happen, we’ll need an effective and safe way to get back up to the surface alive.’

Eric walked over to where a mannequin wore a special underwater suit. ‘Our suits are designed to withstand the underwater pressure, are bulletproof, and the self-contained oxygen renewal system will allow us to breathe…basically forever. And the jetpacks will propel us to the surface faster than any other type of jetpack to have ever existed.’

‘That’s all great for surviving down there,’ began Jason, ‘but what about the recording equipment?’

‘Also designed to withstand the same kinds of pressure and anomalies we ourselves might face down there,’ explained Eric. ‘We should be able to maintain a connection with Henry — I mean Major Henry — and the surface team, but if that connection is severed, we can still record everything and bring it to the surface with us when we return.’

‘And you’re certain everything is safe and ready?’ demanded Henry.

‘Yes, Sir.,’ replied Eric. He was more than confident they would succeed, and he did his best to quell the giddy excitement he felt at the prospect of discovering history-changing truths.

‘A lot is riding on this,’ breathed Esme. ‘While I’m confident we’ll survive the trip down and back, if we fail… The government put a lot of money into this project.’

‘A lot of money from a lot of countries,’ corrected Henry. ‘They’re going to have a lot of difficulty explaining where people’s tax money went if this fails. If the project succeeds, then we’ll have one hell of a story to tell people about the Bermuda Triangle.’

‘Then let’s make sure we don’t fail!’ declared Jason.

Eric bounced excitedly behind Esme. ‘Jason, your brother’s acting like a five-year-old again,’ Esme teased.

Eric playfully slapped her arm as Jason chuckled. Jason felt warmth in his heart, for here he was, living a dream, with the woman he loved and his brother. He winked at Esme before bringing the submersible further into the depths of the ocean floor.

‘We’re finally doing this, we’re here!’ exclaimed Eric. ‘And it’s all thanks to my technological innovations.’

‘You really are a genius, I must admit,’ said Esme.

‘All right,’ said Jason, ‘taking us close to the Triangle itself.’

They had submerged into the Atlantic farther north and now were moving towards their destination. Jason was nearly as excited as his brother was, but had always been able to maintain more calm.

‘Bringing long-range scanners on the scope,’ Jason announced. He looked back at his brother. ‘Eric, sit down.’

Eric rolled his eyes. ‘Fine.’ He flipped some switches on his devices and began processing the data coming in.

‘Opening a channel,’ said Esme. ‘Sir, can you read me?’

‘Loud and clear, Esme,’ Henry’s voice came through. ‘I can see the data you’re transmitting along with the visuals.’

‘Excellent. Jason’s taking us to it.’

‘Any magnetic pulses or scramblings yet?’ asked Henry.

‘None whatsoever,’ replied Esme, ‘all thanks to Eric.’

‘That’s what I like to hear.’

Everyone fell quiet as a distant mountain of debris came into view. Jason readjusted his vector, taking the sub in closer and angling it to go around the pile of scraps.

‘My god,’ breathed Esme. ‘This is a whole underwater graveyard of ships. We’ve got 15th Century ships as much as 20th Century cruise ships.’

‘That’s not all,’ said Eric. ‘Not only are scanners picking up older tech, but look,’ he pointed at a structure within the pile of rubble. ‘Those are planes, that one’s a U.S. P51 Mustang. Those were used during the Second World War.’

‘There’s got to be hundreds of crashed and sunken ships and aircraft down here,’ said Esme.

‘I’m taking us around the debris,’ informed Jason. ‘But isn’t it strange how the pile just goes higher and higher?’

‘That’s true,’ Eric agreed. ‘The closer to the centre of the triangle the sunken aircraft and ships pile up, the higher the pile becomes.’

‘Could the explanation be a stronger magnetic pull in the centre of the triangle?’ Henry asked from the other side of the line.

‘Negative, Sir,’ replied Eric. ‘Scans are showing the same amount of magnetic interference being equally distributed everywhere.’

‘That’s odd. I was certain the explanation would remain within typical logical reasoning.’

Esme folded her arms, grinning. ‘Are you saying you’re finally coming around to the idea of aliens, Sir?’

Henry sighed. ‘No, but I’m not ruling that out either. Be it, aliens, the earth’s natural magnetism or whatnot, we can’t rule anything out yet. In fact,’ there was a bit of static — ‘so that we can then…’

‘Sir? You’re breaking up, Sir. Henry?’ Esme sighed. ‘We lost contact with the surface.’


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Legacy Takedown — Part 3 – Fiction Short Story — Thriller — Romance

Warnings: Language, Violence.

The following short story deals with the subject matter of slave trafficking, reader discretion is advised.

Danno rolled into the fray, refocusing his mind. He set aside the flutter from the near kiss and the excitement from Aliana’s revelation that she was an undercover agent, and instead brought to the forefront his anger towards his father at his despicable schemes.

Coming to a crouch, he shot at one of his father’s goons, then at the other. In his peripheral vision, he saw Aliana move along the wall and lunge at one of their attackers.

Danno grabbed the legs of another, tripping him, and shot him in the head. Then he leapt up to his feet, putting his bodyguard training to good use, and pulled the arm of another gunman, shoving him into his comrade. The two careened to the ground and Aliana and Danno each one of them simultaneously.

With the contingent of guards down, Danno instinctively took Aliana’s hand and ran across the corridor. They found rooms, securely locked, with nothing but a small window in each door to peer inside from. Using Hibiki’s keycard, Aliana unlocked the doors.

There were dozens of young women inside the scantily furnished rooms. These women were of all nationalities, talking in various languages, trying to understand one another. Most of them were in their early twenties, some of them looked no older than sixteen, and all of them looked battered and bruised.

Danno clamped down the sudden urge to vomit.

Aliana was able to communicate with some of them in Spanish; others who understood her in English, translated into their language to their fellow captives.

‘There’s another elevator at the other end of the corridor. I believe it goes up to the ground floor,’ expressed Danno.

‘Danno!’ bellowed Mr. Igoshimi Senior, rage in his gritty voice.

Danno froze. His father’s footsteps were hurried and heavy, coming from across the long hall.

Danno turned to Aliana. ‘Get the girls to safety.’

‘I’m not letting you face your father alone,’ insisted Aliana.

‘Someone has to get these girls out,’ growled Danno. ‘My father is mine to deal with.’ He checked his gun clip and readied himself for the inevitable. He glanced down the hall. ‘Father and brother,’ he corrected himself.

‘I’m coming back,’ Aliana promised.

She hurriedly ushered the girls towards the other elevator, shooting any guards who came running towards them.

Danno turned towards his approaching father and brother and stalked towards them, gun held up at eye level, arm out in front of him, ready to pull the trigger on them.

He came face to face with them, several metres away, keeping his gun aimed at their heads. Mr. Igoshimi Senior held his gun at his side. Hibiki held his by his face, resting his jaw and cheek on it, looking smug.

‘I knew you were soft, Danno,’ his brother chided, ‘but I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to betray our father’s legacy.’

‘A legacy? Is that what you call it? Capturing innocent immigrants and using them as slaves? Abusing them, coercing them, so they will obey out of fear!? You’re both disgusting. All my life I just wanted your approval, to be worthy of your praise. I was wrong to want it. Now I know what you truly are, father.’

‘And what is that, son?’

‘A monster!’ seethed Danno. ‘A disgusting monster.’


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Legacy Takedown — Part 2 – Fiction Short Story — Thriller — Romance

Warnings: Language, Violence.

The following short story deals with the subject matter of slave trafficking, reader discretion is advised.

Aliana’s eyes never left Mr. Igoshimi Senior’s, making sure to keep her smile in place, no matter how dirty she felt just looking at the man. His sleazy smile came with a bit of drool. He took her by the hand and bid her to follow him to where she would be staying and taking care of his needs when he stayed in that room.

This told her that other girls probably were kept in other such rooms. Mr. Igoshimi led Aliana to a penthouse suite with a beautiful view. It was near morning now, so Mr. Igoshimi excused himself and instructed Aliana to be ready for him tonight.

Aliana took to cleaning the suite, dusting off the furniture, cleaning the couch and rugs, moving everything to clean under it and get at all the dust in every room of the suite.

When Mr. Igoshimi arrived that evening, he was impressed. She curtsied politely and bid Mr. Igohimi sit on the freshly vacuumed couch.

‘Bring me a tall bourbon.’

‘Right away, Mr. Igoshimi.’ Aliana poured him his drink and sat next to him as she placed it on the small table in front of the couch. She kept her knees together but angled them towards him to give the semblance of interest. ‘Long stressful day?’

‘That would be one way of putting it,’ Mr. Igoshimi replied.

Without invitation, she stood and began to massage his shoulders, carefully kneading his neck. He relaxed in her touch, groaning like a cat and melting like putty in her hands.

‘When we…’ she began, after he’d finished his second drink, as she continued to massage his back, ‘do you always like to film it?’

Mr. Igoshimi chuckled. ‘Found them, did you?’

‘Difficult not to, when cleaning.’ She pressed on a tender part and massaged gently. Mr. Igoshimi moaned pleasurably. ‘You like to record audio too?’

‘No audio,’ replied Mr. Igoshimi. ‘But if you’re up for it, we can angle the cameras so that when I rewatch later I can have an even better view of you.’

‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ Aliana cooed.

Aliana moved back to his neck, massaging in circular motions that elicited a yawn from Mr. Igoshimi. She found the pressure point she was looking for, carefully ensuring that to him it would only seem as though he dozed off to sleep. She pressed and he was out cold.

Aliana took a step back. She moved Mr. Igoshimi to a lying position on the couch and began to clean in a safe corner of the suite.

‘I count five security cameras,’ she muttered. ‘No audio, as you heard. No sign of any of the other girls yet. I suspect they’re being kept in individual suites like this one but I can’t say if all of them are as lucky as me. Suite is…luxurious enough. I get my own bed too.’

‘Well done, Sanchez,’ came the voice on the other end of the earpiece–her boss, Anderson. ‘Feeling safe? Nothing untoward occurred.’

‘I’m all good, thanks,’ replied Aliana. ‘You would have heard anyway.’

‘We’ve done more research and digging,’ Anderson went on. ‘Turns out your boy, Danno, was never part of the past schemes. He’s clean. See what you can find out from him the next time you speak with him.’

If I get to speak to him again,’ corrected Aliana.

‘We’ve got agents shadowing the three Igoshimis but so far only Igoshimi Serior and his eldest son go to that casino from where they get their girls. Digging into their pasts revealed the same. We’ve got a point of entry. We’ll soon find who brings them the girls and where they take them from.’

‘Good.’ Aliana moved a mantel and dusted it off with the duster brush.

‘Agent Sanchez, don’t hesitate to do what you have to if any of them cross any lines.’

‘I won’t. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’ She turned to make sure Mr. Igoshimi was still snoring. Then she lowered her voice and gave the coordinates she remembered of the safehouse. ‘Gain access to that computer. You’ll find records of the trafficking there with dates and names.’


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