Skyler Saunders
Bio
I will be publishing a story every Tuesday. Make sure you read the exclusive content each week to further understand the stories.
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S.S.
Stories (2937)
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And He Shot Him in the Head
The range allowed for anyone with enough grit and exactness to try their hand at putting rounds on paper targets. In time, those targets could be future attackers. Of course, a situation where an attacker would assault you, heart rate, adrenaline, and the whole pharmacy of other drugs in your brain and body would be coursing.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Negressbot
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. That was because the one who would be screaming was an android. Negressbot flew on a spacecraft powered by dark energy to the dwarf planet Pluto. What should have taken twelve years lasted a mere twelve months at speeds nearing two million kilometers an hour.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Moon Dust to Dust
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. The Moon-dust looked like little gray crystals in the sunlight. The workers did their damndest to ensure that the plot was even in every dimension. Their labor produced a fine spectacle of the dust as they bit into the Moon’s surface.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Go Get It
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. The scientists, engineers, and technicians did not let slip a sound on Earth, either. No one else could figure out how a ten billion dollar orbiter could be travelling at nearly nine hundred and eighty thousand kilometers an hour away from the blue-green orb.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
The Planet’s Symbol
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Rust colored canyons, mountains, hills, and valleys mostly overshadowed the tan, gray, and green mineral deposits on the planet. Captain Deslyn Curris looked out over the plain. In her vision, she could decipher the various rock formations and the city still in progress. As a private venture, the ship oversaw the might of the American mind applied to the exploration of Mars.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Fish Bowl
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Then again, if your comms are short circuited and your helmet is filling up with water, that’s exactly what happens—no screams. If American astronaut Hayden Hoff had tilted his head just a bit forward, he’d be submerged like a goldfish in a bowl.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Susan’s Space Story
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. So, she stopped. She checked all of her vital signs. Everything was normal—for now. Susan McGuire had been floating in space like a feather on the wind after she became untethered from the space station. Slight bruises covered her wrists as she jammed the arms of the space suit loose from her hands.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
The Porter’s Orders
Spring 1948 When the whistle blew, he wondered why he had to get something on his stomach. He was somewhere near Philadelphia headed towards Wilmington, Delaware, the last stop. He looked down at the alarm clock. His mind whirled. He had been a Pullman porter for four years, loading baggage and ushering passengers but he could not recall any of this. This time, he woke up in the Pullman worker’s quarters. He peered at himself in the mirror but did not recognize anything. He donned the pristine uniform out of rote actions, and headed out to work towing a pail of hash browns, a bottle of orange juice and his wife’s homemade Spam and egg sandwich. He just carried it, never remembering its contents.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
You’ve Gotta Save My Soul
Winter 1988 The bar beckoned Goods Blaylock. He ordered a whiskey and water. His red trilby hat absorbed the smoke from the cigarettes and cigars in the train car. It didn’t matter. It already smelled of booze and ashes. A cutaway starched, white shirt fit him to a T. His tie showed paisley in blue and gold and a full Windsor knot. A navy blue suit jacket and freshly pressed steel gray trousers and brown wingtips completed the ensemble. Blaylock, brown skin with a short, cropped Afro underneath the hat, sat and contemplated how he made $50,000 the day before for his work.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
