To say here is far, and to call yonder nearby. Stories on the edge of the every day, strange tales you may or may not be moved by. Strange, curious, fantastic stories told by me, you, him and her. There are many stories but they’re all concluded within a single page, each story around 200 to 1200 characters in length, a short story collection you can easily read. Please enjoy them. Updated every Saturday at 6pm.
I was crossing a bridge when I heard a voice coming from the river.
I couldn’t say where it was coming from, exactly, but it was kinda creepy, and that wasn’t just because it was night.
It called out again. It sounded like the wind rolling over the landscape, an utterly emotionless voice. It seemed to be coming from directly beneath the bridge. Was somebody calling out? I grabbed the rails to look over the edge when someone stopped me.
It was a man in a suit. He gestured for me to step back from the rail.
“The voice you’re hearing is from the river folk. You mustn’t look over the edge. They always work in pairs, you see. One calls from beneath the bridge so you look over, and the other pushes you from behind into the water. That’s why it’s dangerous to look over the edge alone.”
I unconsciously took a step back, and from there looked down at the water. A dark whirlpool was spinning.
That voice again. The man approached the river.
“It’s fine. They’re cowards. They won’t touch us if we have the same numbers. Look, you can see the guy down there who’s calling.”
The man in the suit looked over the edge. I followed him, scared but excited at the same time of what I might see.
In the darkness, a shadow even darker fell over the bridge. It looked like somebody was standing there. It waved a hand at us.
Then the man fell.
I didn’t have a chance to think. Next thing I knew, something hit my back as well. I fell over the rail, my world spinning. The night sky was soon covered by the bridge.
That’s what I thought as I continued to fall.
There were three of them…