Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Light That Breaks the Mold
As I toe the line for the 2044 Titanium Running Championship race, I am only thinking about one thing: the take down. I clench the heart shaped locket my father gave me in my fist, and I reflect on the last year and everything that has happened. I can’t believe they invited me here. Our society, Steel Nation, has made all individualization and opinions illegal. It wasn’t this bad last year until someone challenged the beginning of these strict rules. That someone was my dad. Technology was becoming too personal and AWU (Always Watching You) cameras were placed all over. Our privacy ceased to exist, and our free-thinking opinions were slowly slipping away. They called this Project X. The X standing for elimination of individuality. 365 days ago, my dad competed in the Titanium Running Championship. I’ll never forget that day, the day it all started.
By Morgan Meseke5 years ago in Fiction
Pandora
L-0W quickly glanced at her arm, where her PerCo Personal Data Companion had just finished analysis of the air quality, particle identification, radiation levels, and weather patterns of the gloomy dustbowl and was now issuing a comically long series of warnings. She snorted. Coming here meant death; she already knew that. Still, she quickly swallowed an iodine tablet, drew her nanite weave tight around her face, and tightened the straps on her goggles and oxygen mask, for she could already taste the deadly, radioactive salt. It was bitter and numbed her lips, and the smallest particles couldn't be avoided. It was the first time she had ever tasted salt, and she had been bracing herself for the sensation.
By Adam Barrett5 years ago in Fiction
Constant Reminder
It’s the end of the month, or so we tell ourselves considering we’ve lost track of the days and only know the year at this point; so that means it’s time to collect more supplies for survival. Last month, my older brother, Joseph, went with our younger sister, Carole, on this journey; that means it’s my turn and I’m not too excited about it. Where we’ve made our home, we’re surrounded by trees, which helps to provide us with cleaner air, and as we go off into the city to gather supplies, it becomes hard to breathe. This is how we’ve lived for the past five years; traveling with gas masks, sickness taking out half of the population including our parents, and clean water becoming scarce every time we go on this journey. People have turned on one another, and the neighbors that we do have, we only speak to when we make eye contact. To be honest, I don’t remember what life was like before the world fell apart, all I can really say is that at some point we had parents, until we didn’t.
By Taylor Richardson5 years ago in Fiction
Rats and Roaches
She leaned away from the labored swing of the starving wretch in front of her, too exhausted herself to feel the rush of adrenaline that had accompanied the early fights. Her feet, clumsy from hunger, dragged over bits of broken concrete as she stepped back from the following swing of the pipe, absently noting the once-chrome fixture on the end was coated with dried blood and bits of hair.
By Jason VanHalle5 years ago in Fiction
Into the Blue
By Susannah Halliburton Her hand on his dorsal fin, Marina glided through the water with ease, allowing k’kii’la‘s tail to pump against her shoulder as she bared down to make her exit leap for the surface. This was Marina’s favorite part of the monthly trip to the breaker. She loved the rush of adrenaline that came just before the leap onto shore.
By Susannah Halliburton5 years ago in Fiction
ANTIBODY
I am a soldier. Without any room for interpretation, I protect the Earth from destruction. I haven’t taken a single life outside of this cause and by all rights, they were all just. I’m not an egomaniac, I’m not pushing my beliefs onto others. I defend the Earth. Ironically, that makes me the bad guy; and this heart-shaped locket personifies that all too well.
By Kendale King5 years ago in Fiction
Igwe Ahu
“Look here, my precious sons.” An almond-shaded man adorning a headdress rich in the many brilliant feathers of the native macaw’s beckoned his twin sons over as he rested upon the trunk of a fallen Sharinga tree. The omnipresent sounds of the jungle's beating heart steadily pulsed as Rayhendry, the chief of the untouched Adayeba tribe, held out his clasped palm as his sons looked at one another in awed anticipation.
By Clint James5 years ago in Fiction
Embers Rising
Eilidh was tired, exhausted actually. Living through a world war was grueling. She wasn’t sure she had any energy left to process the events of the last few days or make a decision. She wanted to push it out of her mind, to forget it all together. But hard as she tried, she knew she couldn’t.
By Victoria Clark5 years ago in Fiction
Bedtime Story
Julie yawned into her pillow and smacked her lips. Her eyes flickered under her eyelids. Dreamland opened to her. It was a place of puffy purple parting clouds and silver streaking stars. Dreamland was her canvas where her imagination could paint and play. In Dreamland magical ballet slippers made gold dust when clicked together. In Dreamland she fought pirate trolls and gloomy giants with golden swords. She always won in dreamland and made her enemies cry bitter tears and weep for forgiveness as they groveled to her on their knees.
By Cameron Glenn5 years ago in Fiction
Shaneen
Every time something good happens to me I think about it and I feel bad. Not a day goes by where I feel like it's a piece of me that doesn't deserve what's happened. Just a year ago I was a class 3 citizen and now I am a Class 1 citizen. With all the rights and privileges of the elite.
By Fleming Brooks5 years ago in Fiction
