Fantasy
The Death Within
All stories can either be happy or sad...My life is just in between, however, if you're reading this that means something changed. My mother once told me, that the greatest killer is not a man, that of disease or Hunger but the death within. I would like to tell you more about how it all began, where I come from, and who I am, but for now. I will just give you my name. My name is Sarah, and this heart of a locket you could call it is the heart of my mother. Every day things seem to increase from bad to worse, to the point I begin to miss when only Covid was a thing that was the worst. I remember at least in those times maybe a temporary relief. Today's date is 2028 for the month and the day I have no idea. It's been over a year that the world has just stopped caring what day or month that it is, as we continue to hope that maybe next year will be something better. Currently, I like many others I am dying. Most of us now don't live past our 30s there are still some of us that survived however it's just a matter of time. So if you're wondering what it is I'm speaking of, things must've gotten better. Please take care of yourself because the things I'm speaking of, or of things to come and to continue to come now but even in the future when things may seem to be better. --- Ever since I was a little girl I've seen a lot of great sadness. I was there when the Spanish flu, World War II, swine disease, Covid, and A call for peace was made worldwide. If you're wondering, yes I am old. I'm 110 years of age sometime this year. How? Remember that locket, the heart of my mother? Sometime in 2023 or 2024 something Happened that no one saw coming. Something my mother has spoken of as long ago. See it wasn't a pandemic that you cannot see. Many other events unfolded, the markets closed and digital currencies begin to sweep the nation ending in a crash that only had a domino effect on the world. The world at that time depended on it for its banking and all other finances. Which is no more, now there's neither rich nor poor. We are all poor to some degree, many others are worse off than me. But still, this is not what's killing us. We are all suffering from the death within, and it's not the pandemic that broke out yesterday. I'm sure there is still more to come, and Hunger seems to be more and more widespread. I know that I said my story is neither sad nor happy. I want to share a secret, that my mother told me."Daughter, I want to share something with you that you can choose to keep or to tell others but know that if you share
By Thomous Goddard5 years ago in Fiction
A Revolution
I take a step forward. I look at my feet, covered in dirt, and bruises I can’t feel anymore. It’s been a long time since I could feel anything thanks to the serum I was given, however many months ago. The concept of time is gone, but so is pain. I clutch the bottom of the long white shirt I wear, my fingers unable to appreciate the soft fabric I’m holding. The air is warm, judging by the sweat dripping down my face into my eyes, but I can’t feel heat, nor the wetness of perspiration. I know it didn’t used to be normal, not feeling anything, but things aren’t normal anymore. Maybe some pain wouldn’t be so bad right now, if it meant feeling anything.
By Aaron King5 years ago in Fiction
Journey (Working Title)
Chapter 1 The sound of rustling leaves as he pushed them out of his path, the sound of the wind brushing past him while he ran. There was nothing more that he loved as he ran through the woods. Even though he was being chased, he couldn’t help but love these sounds around him. The adoration almost masked the fear that he felt as he ran from them. They were chasing him for a reason unknown to him. All he knew was that he needed to get away. He could feel the pounding of their feet trailing behind his. Scared of getting caught he turned left into the thicket, hoping to hide from his pursuers but as he ran through the thick bushes he heard a faint creak under his feet just before the ground below him snapped and he fell.
By Damian Pires5 years ago in Fiction
Shattered Haven
Old and frail, she stood above them. She stood tall, back straight, her face drawn and gaunt. Ash fell from the sky and gently swirled around her frowning face before touching her hair like a lover's caress, and around her neck a shining heart shaped locket encasing a glowing white stone shone like a beacon, so pretty, for all the pain and suffering it’s existence had cost. In the distance we could see the faint outline of wings against the mountain rocks, all different shapes and sizes, they stood to be a reminder, a statement; they were always watching, always listening. It was only their mercy and our angel dome, our security net, that provided us some form of protection during times like these. Only because they allowed it could she stand before us, rally us, prepare us to fight. Only because of their unjust mercy was she able to live so long, and only her strength and will would protect her now. As she spoke, her words, her life echoed around us, surrounded us and whispered through the mountains, taunting them, preparing them just as much as it prepared us.
By Shania Webb5 years ago in Fiction
CAT AND MOUSE
Six o’clock AM, another day begins at the estate. The servants arise and dress in their uniforms and head to the kitchen dining room for their breakfast. The staff settles in with their coffee. Coffee time is the best part of the day for the staff. It is a dark roast and served just at the right strength. This is the time the staff has just to themselves to chat and get ready for a day of service. The Butler, Mr. Maxon enters the dining room, the staff stands until he is seated. He is the head of the palace staff. 60 years old, he volunteered for service at the palace. Mr. Maxon alerts the cook Ms. Parker that breakfast is ready to be served. She brings out a porcelain tureen and sets it in front of him. Mr. Maxon picks up a bowl from the stack to his left. He dishes out portions into each bowl and the staff passes them down the table. Clara looks down hiding her disappointment. Porridge--again! More often than not the staff is served porridge for breakfast. She does not complain because as service positions in this time went - theirs was one of the best. As she consumes her breakfast she gently fingers the heart shaped locket around her neck.
By Cara Arildsen5 years ago in Fiction
The Balance of Fate
I remember when violence in music, television and movies was censored. Everyone was certain that kids would become desensitized to it all and it would lead to violence and hatred in everyday life. I was one of the kids who thought, “Seriously, we know the difference between reality and it’s consequences and make believe.” I know I sure did, but I was horribly mistaken. It didn’t stop with kids but even adults got it in their head that a television show or movie was real. They couldn’t differentiate between the actors and their characters, so very desperate to escape what they perceived as their own redundant, boring lives. Within 10 years, more graphic lyrics, scenes and even newscasts were becoming more and more prevalent. With technology, people began to disconnect from one another. It opened the door for the always present yet suppressed “human nature” to begin to rule society, governments, military, you name it yet so many people just couldn’t see how things were getting out of hand. They couldn’t see what evil was happening around them. I remember after witnessing several completely selfish, heartless and extremely cruel acts of people around me that I wrote a poem about how I was certain there were people being born these days without souls. Finally, one day, a little known dictator decided that nuclear weapons weren’t as dangerous as they had been made out to be and really didn’t care about anything except being right and recreating in reality the plot to his favorite television series. He blew up his own country when the weapon malfunctioned and destroyed half the world along with its population. That’s when “they” came. Strangers that were not truly human, not alien, nothing we could explain. They came a few at a time at first through flashes or what I came to see as rifts. What was left of the human race fought disease, radiation poisoning, the loss of the luxuries everyone relied on. The “soulless” prayed on those who could not clearly see this coming but who were truly what humanity used to strive to become, kind, pure and innocent. All they want and do is reach out and help each other. Nonviolent, loving, peaceful, even in the face of this ruined world. The “innocents” never thought about retaliating against their oppressors even when members of their group were murdered. Those of us who could clearly see how humanity was changing for the worst, who saw where the world was headed as years passed right up to the end of our civilization, try to protect the innocents. We call ourselves the “seers”. We know that the innocents must be protected. They are the future of humanity. The soulless have to go but when our work is done, we must also go. Our ability for violence would taint the innocents. However, we are happy to sacrifice ourselves in the end to see humanity reach its true potential.
By Gelene Beverly5 years ago in Fiction
