Tag: mystery

The Big Guns

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Whenever he’s cornered in an argument, Louis always threatens to get out “The Big Guns.”
I’m not sure what he’s got up his sleeve, but then it’s Louis, and he’s a little crazy. There’s no telling what he’s capable of when backed into a corner.
So, we just let Louis off the hook and shake hands and go have a beer together.
No sense in pushing the guy on it. It’s just not worth it.
Sure, I’d love to see these big guns Louis talks about. I collect guns and have an appreciate for fine weapons.
Maybe I’ll buy them.

Codex

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We came across The Codex during our excavation.
It is a stone obelisk with three sides, a different language on each side.
Unlike the Rosetta Stone, we have no idea what these languages are.
We post photographs to JonesNet and wait for answers, but none of the wired archaeologists and researchers in the world have any clue, either.
The shapes and lines and dots resemble no other written language ever encountered.
So, we keep digging, but find no other writing resembling it.
We come to the conclusion that it was a prank by the ancients on future generations of researchers.

Organized

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I refuse to be a part of any organized religion.
So, I’ve joined a highly-disorganized church.
I’m not sure of the name of it. The signs all say different things.
One sign suggests that it’s a military research facility. Perhaps at one time it was, but I have yet to have someone from the military research me during a service.
Pews are scattered about, there’s no telling what kind of book you’ll read from.
I’ve got a phonebook this week.
There is no choir. People sing when they want to, what they want to.
I said “asylum,” right?
Church?
Oops.

Weird

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Mrs Jones knocked on her neighbor’s door and asked for a cup of weird.
“I’m having some trouble keeping up with the weird bill,” she said. “You know, with the rates going up recently and Henry and I being on a fixed income after he was laid off before he could retire early and get his pension-”
The neighbor made a hand gesture suggesting One moment, please and went down into their dungeon.
A minute later, they came back with a glowing, steaming mug of weird.
“Oh, thank you,” said Mrs. Jones, and went back to her upside-down pyramid home.

For Your Eyes Only

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Sometimes, a document is too secret to be marked TOP SECRET.
So they make those For Your Eyes Only.
The document only appears to the recipient. To everyone else, they don’t see anything.
Not even a sheet of paper. It’s printed using a quantum ink and paper from phase-controlled wood pulp that only activates one unique set of sensory-processing neurons.
The problem is that when an agent resigns, you don’t know it they’ve destroyed all their documents.
We could surgically remove their eyes, but that would be cruel, leaving them completely blind.
So, as a mercy, we just kill them.

Crazy Never Sleeps

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Crazy never sleeps.
You might crawl into bed and close your eyes, but while you’re asleep, Crazy is up and pacing the floor, listening to voices that nobody speaks with.
Crazy can’t be locked in the basement or tied to a chair. No matter what you do, Crazy gets loose and goes crazy on everything.
Broken dishes.
Knives stuck in the sofa.
The tub overflowing again.
Who knows what you’ll wake up to this time?
So, you stay up later… and later…
You try to stay up later than crazy does.
Then you realize: you’ve been the Crazy all along.

The Axe

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Every time I go to Lord Greybeard’s Castle, I can’t help but stare at the axe he’s mounted over the fireplace in the Main Hall.
It’s old and rusty, but every so often there’s fresh blood along the blade.
There’s no way that Lord Greybeard used it, let alone any of his servants.
The thing is massive, with a six foot wooden shaft and a blade that must weigh over a hundred pounds.
Lord Greybeard notices my curiosity, puts an arm around my shoulder, and laughs. “I cut myself shaving,” he says.
Then, his screaming head slides off his neck.

The Candles

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When Bobby turned five, he wanted his cake decorated like that “Harry Potter” series of books he’d seen, but was too young to read or watch the movies.
“No,” his mother said.
(When you’re five, you don’t take no for an answer.)
So, his mother made a cake with a demon made out of chocolate cookies inside an icing pentagram, a candle at each star point.
At the party, all of Bobby’s friends sang, and then he blew out the candles.
“What did you wish for?” his mother asked.
The demon on the cake opened its eyes.
“That,” grinned Bobby.

Footprints

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Footprints in and of themselves aren’t terribly interesting.
But when you take them in context, that’s when my curiosity is piqued.
Walking to the edge of the roof…
Walking straight into a wall…
Walking in a perfect circle without beginning or end…
And then there’s the depth, which tells you how much the person weighs.
Or is carrying. A body, for instance.
There’s shoe tread, all sorts of factors there.
There’s nothing unusual about my footsteps.
Well, besides the fact that I’ve got flat feet, but that’s no crime.
What? The fact that they’re bloody?
I can explain that. Really.

Drawers

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Sandy took off her shoes and sat down.
Then she slid off her jeans, took off her top, and tossed aside her bra.
Stepping out of her panties, she opened her drawer and dropped her breasts on a towel.
Then she reached between her legs and peeled quickly.
(It stung less that way.)
Shutting the drawer, she opened another, and put himself back together.
Looking in the mirror, he wiped the makeup from his face.
He checked the clock: a little early.
He smiled, and opened the first drawer.
A gentle, soft caress – and then he got dressed for work.