Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
Nuclear Change
My stomach dropped the moment I saw the aftermath. I'd always heard about what a nuclear bomb does to cities. I'd seen the pictures from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Buildings leveled, people burned to death, barely any trace of humanity left. But it wasn't until I came back that the damage truly sunk in. Ash covered the ground. Every building I'd grown up by was gone. I knew that I was probably absorbing radiation the longer I stayed there, but I didn't care. My city was gone. My home, my neighbors, my family. I was the only one left.
By Jamie Lammers5 years ago in Fiction
Golden State
Seattle had sent its best. Piebald Alary of the Puget Sound Runners set a blazing clip through Oregon, keeping to waterways and away from roads, and thus, bandits. He stopped only for rest and macro pellets at PSR outposts. Lean and sinewy, with a metabolic rate remarked as the lowest ever for a Runner, Piebald was built for long runs.
By Brett Lalli 5 years ago in Fiction
HIGHRISE SKYLINE
The battered motor struggled to carry a rusted boat and its passenger over the outskirts of what used to be Fort Lauderdale, a concrete swamp abandoned by the corporate conglomerate that once governed it after pushing the federal government out of the southeastern states, the US losing around half their now perpetually contested land in identical fashion. The rest of south and central Florida generally suffered a similar fate as the Atlantic Ocean continued to devour the state, driving away corporate interest. Still, first counts for something, capable of withstanding the cloud of toxic spores engulfing the dilapidated ruins, mutated alligators densely populate nearly every block. The traveler locks his gaze on 4 solar-powered air boats buzzing north into the decrepit city, each carrying a duo of Riptide reclamation officers, every one of them equipped appropriately, breathable Nanokevlar armor leading up to a lightweight, corporate-grade alloy filtration helmet, the dome outfitted with a heads up display detailing vitals and environmental info, everything marked with their signature tsunami logo. The traveler’s helmet was nearly opaque from condensation. He’ll be lucky to make it through without heat stroke. A functional A/C is typically standard in even the cheapest filtration units, popular after 2064 saw the climate’s true point of no return. Unfortunately, the edentate merchant in Orlando failed to supply or mention this basic component before charging full price and vanishing promptly.
By Chris Conway5 years ago in Fiction
Absence of Light
For two hundred years, humankind has endured many hardships and tribulations in its struggle to maintain its existence on Earth. Humans and other species perished during this period when the sun became a scorching instrument of death, and now all life could only exist at night and by the dim light of the moon.
By Cindy Rivard5 years ago in Fiction
Terraform
The wind kicked up flecks of sand that stung my ankles as I readjusted the cloth over my mouth. The canvas backpack I wore had enough rations for three days in the Out. We had to be back by nightfall on the third day as that is as far as our weather radar could predict. Samara, my scouting partner, had been to the Out before. I had not.
By Devyn Brown5 years ago in Fiction
Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 22
I drive out of Banff and back into the national park. If the circumstances were any different, I would love this drive. The road is empty and the surroundings are beautiful. Stretches of forest, covered in snow, surrounded by frosted mountain peaks. But, I can’t think about any of that. All that I can think about is that somewhere, possibly in this snow-covered scenery, is my baby.
By Megan Clancy5 years ago in Fiction
Day 222
That nagging, “Is this the end of the world?” question that we all ask ourselves in the face of increased violence and mayhem – the one we eventually cast off as an absurd macabre fantasy - was finally answered with an irrefutable “yes.” The world as I knew it is gone.
By Lori Melton5 years ago in Fiction
Welcome back, friend!
“Welcome back, friend!” An R3-5T unit stands in front of me with a cheerful expression projected onto her face. She is identical to the other five R3-5T units in the room, saying the same thing to the rest of the patients. I look down at my fingers as they whirr and turn, recalibrating themselves after the decluttering process. There is something daunting about the immaculate white tile covering the floor and walls.
By Night Phlox5 years ago in Fiction
The Artifact
August handled the artifact carefully. It was ancient, delicate and cool to the touch. She had been drawn to this particular piece for reasons unknown, and she thought about it day and night since the first moment she saw it. She instinctively knew it was somehow a precious commodity indicative of her ancestor’s proclivity toward an elusive emotion they used to refer to as love. She had read about love in the old, wood-pulp artifacts, had wondered about love from time to time, but had never felt love, of course. She had a curious nature toward the intangible, which made her good at her assignment. She explored each item she encountered with fresh, inquisitive eyes and had been able to assess the value of many items that others would have cast aside as something ancient humans referred to as junk.
By Michele A. Hubbs5 years ago in Fiction
