The mystery story is two stories in one: the story of what happened and the story of what appeared to happen.
~ Mary Roberts Reinhart

Here at Tell-Tale Press, we hope to entertain you with quality stories from talented writers around the world. Some stories may include graphic violence, erotica, or both. They have been indicated as such before the story begins. Thank you for joining us, and happy reading!

Creatures - Story 1 - Murder on the Bogs by Edward Lodi

Remember reading about that little kid on Cape Cod who went missing last summer? Name of Bobby Santos. Twelve years old, missing five days. No evidence of foul play, no strange men seen talking to the boy, no suspicious cars cruising the street where he lived… yet the police saw fit to question me. Twice.

Last Thursday, had I noticed Bobby playing in the woods behind his house? Had I ever spoken to the boy? Why, exactly, had I strolled into the swamp behind the reservoir during my lunch break? Had I ever been arrested?

It was the Chief himself, Spoke Coffin, who asked the questions, while standing ankle-deep in cranberry vines and swatting brown-tail flies with his sweat-stained Smokey-the-Bear chapeau.

Did I rate a ranking investigator because of my importance as a suspect?

Naw. The resources of the Town of Bayard being few, the police chief’s duties are many and varied: directing traffic, patrolling the beaches, handing out tickets for parking violations, questioning the occasional mur…

Creatures - Story 2 - An Incident Off Wisner Road by Evan Dicken

It was only when he heard the creatures outside the car that Vinnie realized he was about to die.

Death wasn’t something he’d thought about much. Beyond a few sweaty seconds before he pulled a trigger or swung a tire iron, Vinnie would’ve been hard pressed to say he’d considered death at all—and even then only as something he did rather than something that could be done to him.

The moan came again, seeming almost to seep through the cracked windows. Vinnie sat with eyes squeezed shut, his hands wrapped around the useless steering wheel like a captain preparing to go down with his ship. A stale, vinegary odor filled the car, stinging his nose and making his eyes water.

Christ, they smelled like pickles. Like goddam pickles.

Vinnie flinched as the passenger side door shuddered, the screech of metal like teeth on a blackboard. He’d lost his phone back in the woods, but Big Sal had left his in the car, hadn’t he? Vinnie groped amidst the leaves and balled-up fast food wrappers on the car floo…