Sci Fi

A Heart Alive
Rain. I had heard of it, but I was one of the first humans in hundreds of years to see it. It was raining as we landed. For some reason, it seemed to depress the others. I couldn’t understand how though, and I have dealt with depression for a long time now. Maybe I just can’t get any lower.
By J. R. Harrison5 years ago in Fiction
The Unrelenting Charge of Desolation vs Craig
It had been like a generation since probably China tantrum’ed out a buncha nukes like a wet dog shaking off after a bath; billions were dead, America was in ruins, and grocery stores everywhere were on the brink of collapse. Craig Bierderger was a 6th generation owner of a chain of stores in what was left of Missouri and he was told that they were doing quite well, all things considered, when suddenly they lost contact with the Kansas City locations. This was one of the worst years ever for radioactive superstorms, leading to razor-thin margins and dozens if not hundreds of workers suddenly disappearing in the only other surviving Missouri city could cripple the company. Craig decided to go out there personally and straighten things out. It's 250 miles across a state that was a desolate, mutant-infested, wasteland even before the war but Craig was optimistic, fearless, and bored, so he drug his dog Candy into the back seat of his smart car and headed west. All he had to do was make it to Kansas City.
By James5 years ago in Fiction
The Others
The Others are everywhere, but I know nothing about them. They walk our streets, wear our clothing, live in our homes. They know everything about us. But I know nothing about them.
By Brigitte Dreger5 years ago in Fiction
Duchamptism
A year after the outbreak of the second pandemic, my heart felt very aggrieved. First, it was the Covid of 2020, then it was that of 2025 strangely predicted by the Portuguese philosopher José Saramago... A collective uncertainty seized our spirits, and it was at that moment that I decided to become an anchorite, moving to the mountains of Maine and away from social dynamics. There was a deep disdain in me after hearing the origin of the blindness pandemic which originated in the city of Fresno California. A group of university students were experimenting with synthetic drugs derived from mercury.
By Alejandro Carrillo5 years ago in Fiction
A New Era Has Arisen
I was finally at peace I had left everything behind you see! I had told myself for some time now that I would let go of my past, and start living a life where there is peace and love overall. Easier said than done, but it was worth it, I had a lot of understanding about my life, who I have become, and who I am destined to be!
By Patricia Arias5 years ago in Fiction
Colorado
I was five when the water left us, so I relied on my mother’s memories to make sense of what we lost. She didn’t have many memories herself — for although the water left when she was an adult, it had been in a state of departure for decades leading up to the fact: tides lengthening out across days, ponds drying out into dust craters — and so she told me the same story again and again in an effort to help me understand.
By Caroline Burke5 years ago in Fiction
I am old
I am old now with my story coming to an end. I remember a time when flowers bloomed, and the days unfolded with birds and blue skies, but those days are gone now it is too hot to go outside. The birds have long burned, and the blue skies are hot with fire. The ones that survived have been through the height of trauma but the ones that remember are the ones doomed. Times are different people survive. I received my locket today. My fate is but days away.
By Page Neihoff5 years ago in Fiction
A cruel and unusual game
At that moment Sarah found herself more scared than she’d ever been in her life. She sat down for a few moments, refusing to believe her eyes, because if they weren’t playing tricks on her, the girl who had gone her entire 17 years of life with nothing, suddenly had a lot to lose.
By Calum Woodward5 years ago in Fiction
The Sun
No one remembers the sun. If they do, it’s only bits and pieces. All that’s left of the sun, for everyone else, is the stories. The way it could warm up the coldest person. The magic it had to make the sky a kaleidoscope of colors.
By Eloise Mar5 years ago in Fiction
Bee & Iris
Sometimes, at night, Bee dreams of Iris. They are not human dreams, but she imagines they are something similar. When she performs diagnostics in her nest, after her daily recordings are wiped, she finds segments of memory that are still accessible. They appear in bits and pieces, usually images from the day. But sometimes she gets flickers of past years, partial and corrupted. She will let these play, sift through them: Iris at work in her office tower. Iris at the beach. Iris on the train, her arms full of groceries.
By Owen Schaefer5 years ago in Fiction
The Silver Cloud
The lobby of the Silver Center was a vast, white room with high ceilings and an air of sterile modernity. Strewn throughout this reception area were digital installations. These lifelike holograms displayed the things people had surrendered. In exchange, they could step forth from their mortal flesh and into an eternal digital form. Like an art gallery, like a museum to the things left behind by our forebears, the hall was filled with artifacts. They gave an aspiring ascendant an idea of the sacrifice required of them.
By Peter Sullivan5 years ago in Fiction
A Dreamless Sleep
The captain sat alone in the navigation centre of the SS Nephilim, the city-sized star ship designed for deep space exploration and complete self-sufficiency in the uncharted blackness between galaxies.
By Ian Luke Wilkinson5 years ago in Fiction