Literary Ryan – Obsidian Correspondence

Generally I just use this website for reviews but I thought a once a week diversion would be okay to try out. Please feel free to comment if you find this distracting or if you love it. I always welcome your thoughts!

I found out from another blogger about this weekly writing exercise called “Literary Lion” where you write a 400 word story based off the current weeks word. I’m posting this a little late but last weeks word was EYE.

Eye hope you enjoy this story titled: Obsidian Correspondence

It all started with that damn eye; just staring back at me, cold and unblinking.

I turned the manila envelope over searching for other clues. There was a ghost of a footprint on the envelope where it looked like maybe a mail carrier had accidently stepped on it. Was it an accident or was this just another clue in a series of puzzles that have been thrown my way since the first pictures started coming to me in the mail?

Blackmail. It only happened once but it was the biggest mistake of my life… and now the wheel of karma has come back around to crush me. That stupid eye on these envelopes, what does it mean?

I needed to take a walk. I grabbed a leather jacket out of the crowded front closet. I can never get these things off their hangers, as I finally finished my wrestling match with the hanger I tossed on the jacket and was out the door.

It’s pouring, but I don’t care. The rain always refreshes me, cleanses me.

The streets were quiet except for a few empty bottles and crumpled up newspapers blowing around in the wind, an old church bell rang in the distance.

The cool droplets hitting my head were helping me think. I do my best thinking in the shower and it looks like with all this rain, I’m getting my second shower today.

Who could have it in for me? Did my wife set this up? No, she’s too nice of a person to do something like this. I’m the bum.

I started looking at my reflection in the front window of a law office that claims that “they will work hard for you if you are injured in an oilfield accident,” when I noticed something that made my hair stand on end.

That eye. That stupid, lidless eye staring at me in the reflection… I whipped around to see a small green door, sorely needing a new paint job. On its window was that eye and underneath it said Alpha Investigations: Private Eye.

Without thinking I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. A long staircase lay before me. At the top of the stairs there was a frosted glass door with a faint light shining through it.

This was it. I’ll finally get to the bottom of this once and for all. I walked forward cautiously.

© Reel Ryan 2015

Literary Lion


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