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.
Morning. Half-asleep, I opened the curtains to find a horrid sight before me. It was a dirty face. A boy was pressing his face to the window glass on the other side. No, that doesn’t really get across what he was doing very well.
He appeared to be elementary school age, and he was pressing his face against the window with all his might. His nose, his cheeks, his lips, his entire face was squished up against the glass as hard as he could squish it.
How long had he been like that? I fell back, my eyes locked on him, and he grinned at me. Then he disappeared.
My window doesn’t have a veranda. Not only that, I live on the eleventh floor. I opened the window, thinking there was no way he could have been there, and looked down. Of course, nobody was there. There was nowhere to hide to the left or right either, nor anywhere to jump. I shook my head and closed the window, but my skin was crawling.
The dirty mark of the boy’s face was left on the window glass.