Sci Fi
The Hostel & The Apartment
The Hostel Back when I was younger, I wanted the world to right itself again; I held tightly onto an unrelenting optimism that I only ever found in Reuban. But I’m sure that auspiciousness is what ruined Reuban eventually; it persistently gnawed at his criminalised body until he surrendered to The Scientists. When I watched The Cleaners obsessively mopping the shiny linoleum in his room that is when I changed too, I think. After moving into the new apartment complex last spring, I decided I wanted the world to keep smoking, hissing, and chugging like a well-designed steam train - no more unrealistic glimpses into the optimistic human mind.
By Julia Kemp5 years ago in Fiction
Cascading Joy
It was a long day in the heavy rain, but it was my purpose. Hauling water from the stream that was over a kilometer away from the shelter was my job. When I look back over my fifty-three years I can’t remember when I didn’t have a job that didn’t involve water. As a child I watered the horses and then as a teenager I was a lifeguard at an amusement park, in college I watered the plants at a garden center, and finally I worked in IT for a bottled water company. Until three years ago all those jobs were hard work, but they were never lonely or desperate work. Now everything is lonely and desperate.
By Nancy Ohaugherty 5 years ago in Fiction
Eight minutes and Twenty Seconds
There had been no warning that the light was going to go out. In all the sci-fi doomsday movies they know it's going to happen, or at least know something bad is about to happen. An Earthquake, eclipse, or the scientist warning the United Nations that imminent doom is pending. Nothing like that, it was just like someone flicked the switch and “click” it was late twilight. The moon disappeared from the sky even though we think it was traveling along with us in our wake. Without the sun's light, we also lost its gravity, and we were now flung out into space at sixty-seven thousand miles per hour into the galaxy. The milky way was stretched out alongside us now in a permanent swatch of splattered starlight. Jackson Pollock had just taken one long draw of starlight paint and splattered it across the midnight sky, and most was splattered in a straight line but many splashes were going what would be north and south on his black canvas.
By Daniel Lestrud5 years ago in Fiction
Caged
August 1, 2030 The world had changed since the humans had lost control nearly a decade ago. From the shadows had come the blood drinkers, the Vampyres. The once powerful humans were now slaves and playthings to the rulers of the night. Instead of upper. middle and lower class, you now had the companions, breeders, and slaves. Only the most beautiful were chosen to be the in the elite class of the companions. They are the ones they Vampyres chose to keep as pets of sorts. Breeders were used to keep humans populated so there would be food and fresh servants and companions. They were chosen by their pleasant looks and great genetic makeup. Breeders had to have clear family histories and lack any genetic flaws. Then there are the lowly slaves, they are nothing more than property there to do their master’s bidding. These were the leftovers, the ones who weren’t beautiful enough to be companions and their DNA contained genetic flaws.
By Kayla Gares5 years ago in Fiction
Damn If You Doom
Bethany, bleeding profusely from her lower region, dropped to the ground as contractions, two minutes apart, brought her to her knees causing her to extend the palm of her right hand involuntarily releasing the golden heart shaped locket engraved with the letters "B & H" that her late husband, Hector had gifted to her last Christmas. It was the last time Bethany had laid eyes on her husband before he fell ill. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Bethany kept hearing Hector's voice, "Our little girl needs you," he said. Reaching over for the bloody antique locket, it was as if it had given Bethany strength because try as she might, she slowly rose to her feet but as quickly as she stood up, she fell flat on her face.
By Chevelle Legami 5 years ago in Fiction
Let's Do Lunch
The sun was shining, birds were singing, and there was a slight breeze in the air. Seeing each other again had happened completely out of the blue, and with nothing better to do, the old friends decided to grab lunch. It was peaceful in the mall food court. The lack of other people made it easy for them to talk without any distractions.
By Callie Richards5 years ago in Fiction
Cardboard Coffins and Gold
The coffin was made of cardboard that he stole from a recycling bin behind the food warehouse, still stained from the GM foods it once held. It pained his soul to see his wife of thirty years lying in it waiting to be pulled through the black curtains at the crematorium. He had dressed her in her favourite black dress and shoes, she looked beautiful. He was glad he had traded some ofon the proper preparations.The coffin was made of cardboard that he stole from a recycling bin behind the food warehouse, still stained from the food rations once held. It pained his soul to see his wife of thirty years lying in it waiting to be pulled through the black curtains into the church crematorium. He had dressed her in her favourite black dress and shoes. He wished he'd had something to trade to for a wooden coffin, but it wasn't to be. He kissed her head, she looked beautiful even in death then walked to his position at the front of the church.
By David Shaw5 years ago in Fiction
Immoral Contact
Irene Sawyer wraps her hands around her mug of coffee to warm them, hoping the heat will make its way to her heart. She stares into the murky liquid her husband made for her. Two creams and a sugar, just the way she likes it. He watches her from across the small kitchen table.
By Haley McRae5 years ago in Fiction
A Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah Day
The carriages was sliding down the side of the avenue and my seat companion gazed out the windows with enthusiasm. The white horse pulling us was synthetic, an AmisTM, a likeness of the extinct species. Private vehicles moved freely, but carriages followed their own rails. After our arrival from the Parsons colony in Mars, Walt and I had had typical Mexican dishes for breakfast at the Tacobell Classic, not far from the Chapala spaceport, before boarding this carriage in order to visit the most remarkable sights in the city of Guadalajara. We passed the Cathedral, with its sole standing tower since the earthquake of 2035. Walt absorbed it all, stunned, with childish enthusiasm. It made me sad to see how little remained of this country, how badly it remembered himself.
By Luis G. Abbadie5 years ago in Fiction
The Underworld
Blinking through humid goggles I turned the small item over in my palm. Strokes of rose hued pink, red and gold decorated the tiny item as I began to register a need for air. A small pressure in my temple irked me to move as I resisted the urge to breath in liquid suicide. Sweet temptation.
By Grace Davies5 years ago in Fiction
Space Program
Space Program A Rob C. Johnson Short Story Today was the type of day where you’d often wonder how things would turn out. Today was a day filled with people lined up outside the new place they’d just finished under construction. It was well-fenced off. It was one with the fences topped off with outward hooks, making it hard to infiltrate. The attraction must’ve been huge, which would’ve been the only reason to enjoy these trash-ridden streets of downtown. The trash was my responsibility for having “sticky-fingers”. My supervisor hovered over us like vultures to dying corpses. He stopped and snapped me out of my trance; my moment of clarity of the Space Program, reduced to dashed hopes.
By Rob C. Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
