Sci Fi

Unbreakable Heart
The waves had shook the earth in a continuous thunder. Now the sky itself seemed to fall around her. Everything had disintegrated into piles of ash—steel structures, wind turbines, even the soil beneath her feet seemed less itself, more of an ashen soot—that her feet sunk into, deeper with every step. Her body had somehow survived the fire—she knew not how. She had enclosed herself in a kind of cold storage unit and months later found herself brave enough to step outside. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to see, but in some ways the reality was far worse than her imagination. Her mind was incapable of opening up to the harsh cruelty of complete and utter destruction: the remains of hollowed loved ones, frozen in time, mostly incinerated into carbonized compounds.
By Ama5 years ago in Fiction
The Dead Sun
When it happened, everyone knew at the same time. The scientists received no warning, they found out when the rest of us did: when everything went dark and everyone felt that first premonitory chill.
By Finnigan Houston5 years ago in Fiction
Capital Value
I’ve been told many times that those without Value have no place in this world. As children we were told so every morning before class, every afternoon before being let out to exercise. Our Nurturers would tell us before bed and when we woke up, and like the rest I believed it. I Worked hard in and after school, terrified of falling below the Grade of Value. In many ways I still live under that system, the fear of losing Value keeping me awake at night, even up here on the surface.
By Arksong5 years ago in Fiction
Hope Floats
22nd April 2051 My daughter, Tereva, Journeys begin with the first fathom. But in which direction? And how fast? When I was a child, those questions were answered for me by adults battling to conquer a land reclaimed by water.
By Michelle Cook5 years ago in Fiction
One Billion Received
From the journal of Dr. Marko Riley 12.06.2039 It’s been forty-two days since the orders came in. Stephens says we don’t have much longer, and I guess he feels that this should light a spark—but all it does is piss me off. He’s a good scientist, but a bit inept as a friend.
By Matt Cupo5 years ago in Fiction
Afterworld Painted by Van Gogh
The audible shuffling of a record scratch was all I could hear. Bob Dylan’s voice begins coming through, like a raspy, old-timey radio in an apocalyptic movie. The same lyrics play over and over. In spite of the static, I understand them clearly. His words strike a chord I can’t explain as he sings, “There’s no locket. No picture of any mother I would pocket. Unless it’s been done by Van Gogh.” I clutched the dirty, heart-shaped necklace, the sunflowers on the edges barely visible under the layers of the former Earth. I never remember wanting it, and yet, I was always there- just like them. It held a familiar fear and comfort- just like them. I thought I screamed, but the only thing that came out was another cloud of dust. I covered my ears, but the words of the song were too loud. It was inside my head now, just like them. I begged for silence again and, for a moment, they allowed it.
By M.L. Martello5 years ago in Fiction
Survival
1. She stood out in the crowd. Nate’s eyes easily picked the young woman out from among those rushing to get home before curfew. He could see the humanness of her with his unique sight, but even to the others who scurried to and fro, she would appear out of place with her lack of visible augmentation. She even wore a mask to help her breathe the polluted city air, unlike virtually everyone around her, with their implanted filters. Nate himself wore no mask, having stopped breathing long ago.
By Craig Williams5 years ago in Fiction
The Corruption
My hands trembled as they wiped away warm beads of sweat that dripped down and burned my eyes. The taste of copper still lingered in my mouth. I frantically ripped the wires from my scalp and torso that tethered me to the motionless body laying before me. My blurry vision began to clear, and I could feel my face contort with disgust as I scanned its features. It was like staring into a mirror, a cold lifeless version of myself. Down to the thick black locks of hair and brown pear-shaped birthmark below its left eye, she…it was identical. Its almond-shaped eyes, wide open, staring back at me; they looked just like my own, but this person…this thing was not me; it wasn’t even human.
By Tiffany Ervin5 years ago in Fiction
Follow Your Heart
Everyone is running. It’s nearly the end. Buildings are crashing and wildlife is burning. The whole world is crashing right in front of my eyes yet I stand so still. Everything feels like it is moving faster than it actually is, but for some reason I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. People are screaming and crying but I can’t hear a thing. I feel so numb. The only thing I am capable of moving are my eyes.
By Kortni Smyers-Jones 5 years ago in Fiction
Mandelbrot: Event Zero
“Candyland” “Shenanigans” “Parcheesi” Vinnie Genzianna tapped the wobbling master fuse on his chin lamp, and the tiny amber bulb crackled out, then on again, more brightly, casting a faint, jewel-like glow on the objects. He wiped from the remaining stacks of charred boxes the soot and dust that was consequent of Mandelbrot: Event Zero. He quietly scoffed at the obsolescence and frivolity of the moldering toys and games, then felt a subtle churn of nausea swell in his belly.
By G Lampa5 years ago in Fiction
Pilgrimage of the Nine-ites
The glaring rays of the sun fell at a slight angle on the powdered steppes. Everything withered under its eye, save for a slice of deep valley cutting through the hills. While offering some relief from the heat, it was still bone dry in the shade; the small band of travelers was easy to spot by the lazy cloud of dust that followed them.
By R. Wayne Gray5 years ago in Fiction
Event of the Unknown Consequence
My name is Kelsie Anders and I had just turned 15 the day before it happened. The day they disappeared. My friends and I went to the local pizza parlor to hang out. I rode there on my new mountain bike my parents gave me for my birthday. It was just an ordinary day like any other and nothing stood out in my mind as being different. We were laughing and joking around, and it seemed to be taking a long time to get that greasy, cheesy pizza I loved. I look back and remember the pizza that never came, and the loud growl of my hungry stomach brings me reeling forth into the reality of the hovel of a motel I had been camping in for the last few days. I snuggled closer to the makeshift metal fire barrel in the corner of the room, a window cracked open to let the smoke out that only had embers left burning. It was getting cold now in the autumn air. As I rubbed my belly trying to make the hunger stop, my mind went back to that day. We had just started eating when a scream from the kitchen took over our conversation of planning our summer fun. A waitress came running out, her skin was pale and her blue eyes wide with fear. She had a phone in her hand and was screaming, “They’re gone”! She quickly showed us her phone where an emergency alarm was sounding from the screen for a few seconds before a bewildered and obviously shook reporter began to announce that people from all over the world seemed to have simply vanished. One second someone was talking and the next they were gone. There was so much confusion running through my brain that the only thing I could think of was to get home. I immediately tried to call my parents, but everyone must have been thinking the same thing because the lines were overloaded, and I could not get through. Without a word, I ran out the door, got on my bike and headed home.
By Katie Kahre5 years ago in Fiction