Archive for the ‘ Creative Writing ’ Category

Mystery Message: The Plot Thickens

By James Nebrig

Editor’s note: This fictional story is submitted as a corollary to the real mystery messages that have appeared in the Denobis mailbox.

 

Recently, a member of the Denobis team, who is also an amateur radio buff, was listening on an unlisted and unused channel and picked up very interesting calls. The audio clarity was poor, but the operator was able to hear and decipher much of the exchange. Here is the written account the member provided to Denobis. Places where the operator was unable to decipher the speech or it was pure static are marked by a *.

 

“Alpha Uniform, Alpha Uniform, this is Juliet November, *** you read?”

“**er, Juliet November, read y****** and clear, what is your situation?”

“***** **iform, we are under heavy fire at grid Zulu 8 rep*** ulu 8! We have Magic and are en route to ***r location! We need suppo** ****diately! We have two groups of regulars arou** us but we are going throu*** *earby buildings to get aroun** *them! Acknowle***!”

“Roger, we are sending Football to ***nforce you! You have to pro***t Magic, is that clear! You have to get ***** **** safely! A**nt Ca***n’s only hope is the rendev*** with Magic!

“Affirmati** ** will sit tight, ove*** an* ou*!”

 

About 2 minutes pass and lots of sporadic gunfire and screams are audible in the recording. The operator during this time was using some software on his computer the radio was connected to in an effort to find where the signal was coming from. Since he only had one antenna to triangulate with, the area he estimated the signal to be coming from is somewhere within 5 miles of the Prescott Airport, a fact which would be somewhat proven later in the recording. He was unable to triangulate any further at any time. Now it is thought that the parties on the radio have gotten to the Prescott Airport and are trying to escape.

 

“Alpha Uniform, you have to get Magi* *** of here! If he is not returned ali** *hen we can kiss the deal with t** Saudi ***ernment goodbye! Agent Canto* *as to conne** *ith Magic or he is a goner. Thi* **sertion is vital to the deal! Baseball is waiting for you at ****** ** and you wil* ***ve West on R**way **, good luck, we** ***ling out!”

“Roger that Juliet Nov****** *nd thank* **u!”

 

At this point the observer heard aircraft engines and shouting men, and ran outside with a mobile radio to keep listening and watch the airport. About 4 minutes after the last radio call of the unknown parties, he was able to see a large plane of some kind taking off Westbound from the airport. He was unable to identify the type but was certain it was painted black or grey, indicating military or black operations origin.

This is believed by the operator of the radio to be connected to the mystery messages received by the elusive “Agent Canton” Denobis has mentioned earlier. If you heard these exchanges on the radio, contact Denobis as the operator would like another radio operator to help verify his observations. If you have any other information or insight into these strange messages and events, please contact Denobis.

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As The Cold Wind Blows: Chapter 1

Editor’s Note

This is a continuing part of Denobis and the Creative Writing Club’s “communal Story,” published each week on Thursday. Each chapter will be written by a new member of Denobis. The story is set in both Soviet Russia and the US during the 1950’s. It features the Soviets, mysterious deaths, and a demon-what’s not to like?


By Alexandre DuBroy

Thursday 22nd, 1955

Washington, DC

James Wood’s cozy office on the 3rd floor of the Secret Service building had been very busy the last few days. He’d had no less than two dozen meetings since Monday, and the crisp paper calendar on the wall signaled Thursday wasn’t even over. He’d been going almost non-stop, and he had finally resolved to shut his door and get something done. He’d procured himself a steaming cup of coffee in a bright white ceramic mug and finally relaxed, in a chair that reminded him more of sitting on a sack of potatoes than the springy filling he’d been promised. His coffee sat gently on the left hand side of his desk next to a slick black phone. He swore…if it rang…

He stared it down for a few seconds before deciding it wasn’t going to betray him, and then grabbed a pen and started scribbling notes in front of him. He began to drift into the mind numbing world of bureaucracy before the phone couldn’t hold it any longer and gave a sudden curt ring. James startled out of his red tape trance, knocking the yet untouched cup of coffee off the side of the desk in the sudden movement to answer. He swore something unintelligible just as he picked up the phone, hoping whoever it was didn’t hear him. Luckily, the caller seemed oblivious.

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As the Cold Wind Blows: Prologue

Editors’ Note

Over the next few months, Denobis and the Creative Writing Club will be publishing one chapter of a “communal story” every Thursday at 3. Each chapter will be written by a new member of Denobis. The story is set in both Soviet Russia and the US during the 1950s. It features the Soviets, mysterious deaths, and a demon—what’s not to like?


By Amanda Bertsch

There is an old story, from a time when Russia was little more than wilderness, of a demon who feared only one thing. One inescapable malady haunted him like a silent shadow, always creeping behind him, waiting. Always waiting. This demon’s name was Koschei, and he was terrified by the cold grasp of death.

Driven mad by his obsession, Koschei tore his soul from his body and hid it inside a needle, indistinguishable from a common sewing tool. Freed from concern about a deadly injury, Koschei rested, for a while. Yet his pride and his fear would not let him rest for long. What if another saw the needle, and recognized it for what it was? What if it snapped, and killed him? No, Koschei did not rest easy for long.

There was only one thing left for him to do. Carefully, Koschei encased his needle in a small brown egg; the only hint that it was unnatural was the needle inside. Surely no one would think to look for his soul in an egg, and so the demon was reassured—for a while. But a soul holds a certain power over its owner, even protected as Koschei’s was, and he was tossed around as the egg was tossed. Any who held the egg had him in their power. A panicked Koschei knew he needed to go further.

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A Short Story by Markus Weinzinger

Cameraman for Courage

By: Markus Weinzinger

Tall triangles dotted the sea of green and brown below. Muddy lanes covered the broad landscape, but were overwhelmed in some places where the triangles towered over. Then, a gray vessel appeared to the north, and I swooped in for a closer look. I steadied my camera and pressed the shutter when at a low fifty feet. Grey-colored beings gazed up in alarm and anger, and the sound of loud repetition suddenly filled the air. Lead slammed into the fuselage of my small plane, when I realized my time was up…

I decided to join a small band of sky spies, Continue reading

A Spook-tacular Tale

By Virginia Riley

PRESCOTT, AZ-The horror story contest has come to an end. With the closing of the contest the winner has been announced as Kalani Prince. For those that could not make it to the reading on October 31st here is the winning story.

            A typical day for Natalie consisted of waking up around 9 a.m., working until 4 and going on a hike afterwards. To her, it was never that exciting. This one crisp October night changed it all.

Her boss was in a particularly bad mood tonight. He decided to take it out on Natalie by making her stay and work late. Although she didn’t make it home until 7 that night, something inside of her urged her to go on Natalie’s routine hike on the Cedar Forest path. There was an odd feeling in the air, but she just blew it off as nothing.

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