Kyle Ireland
Bio
Sci-Fi and other Fiction writer. Currently working on two trilogies set in a future earth. Partially dystopian like Hunger Games, partly cyberpunk/futuristic like Blade Runner meets Equilibrium.
Stories (2)
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The Last Door on the Left
Three days, I’ve been here for three days. At least I think it’s been three days. The two of them, one tall and bulky, the other shorter and athletic, bring me from my cell at the end of a long hall to the same room, my new vacation spot, every day. They beat and interrogate me all under a green light. The pain subsides faster than I’d suspect and then I feel so tired and fall asleep. I wake up in my cell to do it all again. They’ve done that three times, so it has to be three days. I haven’t given up a thing and I won’t. This room may become my tomb but I won’t tell them a thing. Their leaders want to know our number, our resources, and our allies. I can hold out for a while. Even if I start to break I have fake intel I can feed them to some time. Once they pursue it my people can change codenames, safehouses and passwords. The futility of my captors’ actions makes the pain bearable. Or maybe there’s something about that light… I must have taken a few too many blows to the head. Why I am thinking about that light? It hung above the table on a long cord, bathing the room in a wash of green. On the first day, the shorter one just kept slapping me on the right side of my face over and over while asking me questions. On the second day, I taunted the taller one. I don’t think he liked what I said because the next moment I was thrown into the air and my head hit the edge of the fixture. The green projection moved about the room, its shadows danced to my misery. On the third day, the two continued their interrogation and only struck me when I made a sly remark about their mothers. They even took a break after smacking me around. The pair ate a snack and began chatting with me sitting there, too tired to do much else other than fight to stay awake. The pair mentioned some special captives in another interrogation room right before I passed out. The last thing I saw was their blurred outline in a green haze. The beatings don’t hurt as much as I thought they would. The pain seems to fade more quickly than I’m used to. Maybe those two bastards are weaker than they look or maybe it’s that light.
By Kyle Ireland4 years ago in Fiction
The Thief and Silhouette
What the hell was that!? They killed Jimmy, over some locket. My car splashed water everywhere as I made my escape. The rain poured and I could barely see the road ahead of me. Two cars, their flashing lights distorted in the storm, pursued me. I took a right down an alleyway to cut through the Daikon District. Swerving to the left on my exit I saw a busy street two blocks down. I could blend into the crowd and lose them. One block away, in my rear-view mirror, I see the two cars skid to continue the chase. Then two cars speed out from alleyways ahead of me in an attempt to ram me. They block my path and I turn the car down the right alley. I could feel my heart beating like it was trying to jump out of my chest. Dammit! Dead end. I kicked my door open and headed to the fence and began to climb. On the other side, I looked back a second. Lights flashing and headlights on high I only saw the silhouette. I couldn’t see the face, but I could feel it staring at me. The cold rain hit them and seemed to bellow fog or smoke off their shoulders.
By Kyle Ireland5 years ago in Fiction
