The Joracian Mystery

All Rights Reserved ©

The End

And I found myself back in the New Stanley, standing at the bar, my untouched drink before me. I no longer waited for Vivaldi, as strains of jazz now streamed into my ears. I was not alone; there were several people standing at the bar, couples dressed for dinner, sitting at tables, people talking and laughing. There was no mini-ship, no Resettlement Plan, no Joracian Empire. I took a sip of my drink—it tasted like formaldehyde. My cigarettes looked back at me with murderous intent; somehow, I didn’t want them anymore. The bartender stopped wiping a glass and looked at me: “About time to bring in the replacement humans, don’tcha think?” Nodding, I stepped outside into the brisk air of an early autumn evening, and decided to call Sylvia and find my copy of the Atlantic Monthly.

Continue Reading

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered book publisher, offering an online community for talented authors and book lovers. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books you love the most based on crowd wisdom.