Adventure
Fading Memories
Garrett Flynn, after surviving unfathomable odds and living a miraculous life for 87 years, was dying. As he lay in bed, covered by his tattered, sweat soaked flannel nightshirt, breathing noisily, he slowly gazed around the room, barely able to discern the figures surrounding him. The beeping of the monitors in the sterilized room were the only discernable sounds beyond his labored breathing. His disheveled appearance, dried split lips, whiskered face, and unwashed white hair contrasted sharply with the starched linen pillowcase and the antiseptic environment he was in at the military hospital.
By Rodney Davis5 years ago in Fiction
Devolved
And she burned as she cried, betrayal hot in her lungs and anger burning through her veins. For she had given and given and all we had done was to take everything she had to offer until she was left with nothing. And still, even then, we continued to claw at her, digging deeper and deeper drawing out every ounce of blood that we could.
By AllAroundTheWorld5 years ago in Fiction
The Permanence Fallacy
T-minus 03:27:00 Amidst blaring alarms and flashing red ceiling panels, Garrett dodged the overhead swing from the guard and grabbed the surprised attacker's wrist as the electrified baton hit the floor. Wrenching the weapon away and striking with swift motion to the back of the neck, there was a sudden sound of crackling electricity. His opponent hit the floor with the momentum of the strike and the unconsciousness of an individual just hit with a couple thousand volts to the neck.
By Jeff Rubenstein5 years ago in Fiction
Across the Valley
Before the collapse, I was an artist. Without really knowing, I’d been preparing for this. Not by prepping bunkers. Not as an internet crier. Instead, I made pieces. Some were made for people. Fewer of whom by collaborative productions of our labors, or intimacy and vulnerability, have fragments as well. This includes from those who were cast out of my circle, and I from theirs. Yet, even those pieces inspired gratitude for the tragedy, and laughter.
By Romario Powell5 years ago in Fiction
Faultline
“Oh! Hold up!” exclaimed Ollie. “I found a hotspot!” A loud screech pierced ears as Old Skool and Skelly performed a power-slide, polypropylene wheels burning streaks into the pavement, as their skateboards halted just before their friend, Ollie. He waved his smartphone erratically, trying to find a signal.
By Erik Steen5 years ago in Fiction
MICROCONTAMINATED 2093
The year is 2093. I wish I lived 70 years earlier. I've heard stories of people eating fish and meat in the past. I don't know how they taste. I've never tried. We're not fortunate enough for that. Microplastic contamination has taken over everything. I hate broccoli but that's the only staple food now.
By Rajaroy Joseph Alphonse5 years ago in Fiction
Captain Comet
Nathan was a sharp-eyed child and his keen eyes allowed him to see the greatest of details no matter how big or how small. Capable of counting marching ants on an ant hill or viewing the moonlit craters in the night, Nathan considered this his one superpower.
By Michael A Mendoza5 years ago in Fiction
The Key of Life
The groaning of metal filled the room as the lights flickered off for a second and then sputtered on again. Murmurs swept across the room full of about fifty people—all that were left of the Survivors—and a baby began whimpering, despite its mother’s attempt at comfort.
By Allison Reeves5 years ago in Fiction
