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 saw mourning clothes walking down the street. Black suits and black formal wear. No matter which way you looked at it, they were mourning clothes, but not those of a man or even a woman. Rather, it was as though something invisible was inside them, expanding them so they looked like a person, but there was no person inside. Merely the clothes walked down the street.
I heard shoes. Of course I did. They were wearing shoes. But you couldn’t call them footsteps. I mean, there were no feet.
The mourning clothes turned the corner and then disappeared. I didn’t hear about any particular misfortune befalling the city after that. Perhaps they weren’t a bad sign after all.