Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Last Pilgrimage
The small notebook seemed to weigh heavier on him every day. Maybe it was the weight of the tale scrawled on its pages. Maybe it was the weight of the new bookmark and what it meant. Maybe every insignificant weight felt an immovable burden to him now. It didn’t matter much; it’d be the last night he wrote in it anyways.
By Alex Widovic5 years ago in Fiction
Frontier Line
Frontier line Every few moments once the attacks cease and the silence of the valley reclaims our senses Jared begins to complain. I feel its his attempts to rationalize how we ended up here as soon as his panic stops he begins in again on thoughts of home. Thoughts of who and or what comprises of home for he now knows this is the end. We have lost many men in this fight to reclaim our rights and our land. Now we are here pinned down in a valley in what would have been two counties away from the train station that could lead us out of town; that was before April 9th the day communication ceased. We travelled south from the North woods it was a section of dense tree cover and foliage a place in with no cell towers, nor substations nothing existed there. It was our last bit of hope a place to lie low before we tried one last attempt to flee the jurisdiction of the Ordination. We as humans, individual's autonomous and free became reliant on AI, reliant on a few people who we elected, then Prime minister Andrews volunteered to be the first person turned into an incarnate cyborg the procedure was initially to be done post mortem, but Andrews wanted more he believed in the expedited pace of progress in Next Gen science the combination of man and machine. Soon all of parliament was either given an ultimatum of join us under guarantees' of wealth and safety or be cleared, as if your were cache data. The fabric of our society was damaged beyond repair by the mass clearing. Not since the French Revolution have we seen this much blood shed. Im writing this for the sake of posterity, Jared is sleeping again I'm in a frenzy of exhaustion and hypervigilance. the Ordination troops have a platoon just a top the valley floor, part of them cyborg the other are men. They have our exact location. I know the machines won't kill us unless we move it the men I fear.
By Jeff Brandt5 years ago in Fiction
The Water's Rising
The fist careens past my head as I dodge in the last second. I’ve lost my practiced boxer’s stance over the course of the bout. Now I’m just bouncing side to side, waiting for the next punch. It’s not a bad stance by any means, but it’s a different kind of fighting. A focus on mobility steals your ability to strike any time. You become defensive. Any mistake can kill you if your opponent plays their cards right. But it also means you get a better view of the whole picture, and that’s good enough for me.
By Mia-Luna Falls5 years ago in Fiction
Abandon Hope
Maybe it was the fact that it was below freezing for the third week in a row or the realization that her extended absence today meant all of the vehicles with working windows were claimed, but Wynne couldn’t fathom sleeping in the parking garage one more night.
By Heather Madara5 years ago in Fiction
What Came Before
I sat crouched on the filthy kitchen floor, the murky water nearly covering the toes of my faded green rainboots. Leaves and moss swirled around me, mingling with brown and green foam floating on the surface as I carefully turned the pages of the old recipe book in my hands. Thanks to the scarf wrapped around my nose and mouth, I’d gotten used to the acidic, rancid smell that permeated the entire house about an hour after walking in. The water ebbed and flowed around me, sending out ripples and quiet splashes against the walls. These sounds, as well as the smell, had faded into the background.
By Katelyn Prince5 years ago in Fiction
The Garbage Men
The two garbage men move quietly down the empty road behind the slow-moving truck. The truck rumbles ahead of them, its large tires digging rivets in the dirt. The holding container is twice the size of a normal garbage truck. They always try to move quickly and fill it to maximum capacity. It is imperative they clean up as much as possible before night. The animals always make a mess of things.
By dan schaffer5 years ago in Fiction
His Rose
The sounds of twigs snapping, echo through the woods. Worn leather boots make a pathway of smushed grass and flattened leaves as Edwin continues to survey his surroundings. The sounds of loose leaves moving through the trees deeper into the woods, loud insects looking for a fellow lonely soul, and the smell of wet grass, all just background for Edwin as he focuses his senses to find what he’s looking for.
By Pseudo Nym5 years ago in Fiction
Void
There was a time, all but forgotten now, when the world was dominated by technology. The people relied on these advanced devices for everything from health to transportation to entertainment. A weapon that could take away this power of the people would have meant the destruction of their world. But, the very thing that led to their advancement as a civilization was also what was destroying the world they lived in. Poison was released into the atmosphere daily because of these devices. Eventually, the land they thrived on would no longer be there to support them, so the human race adapted.
By Molly Gross5 years ago in Fiction
