Sci Fi
Remembering When the Sun Went Out
There's another empty booklet waiting for me on the desk, must be close to three years now. The first one was here when I appeared in this room, just a few days after the sun went out. The second was waiting on the desk after the three-hundred and sixtieth time the lights in my room went out. I can't remember what day or time it is, but I remember seeing the sun getting drawn into the dot and how quickly everything became cold. I wonder where my mom and dad are, I hope they were taken up too. Wish the voice wasn't so loud and demanding. The commands are beyond old and annoying. “HOW ABOUT TELLING ME WHY YOU TOOK ME FROM MY FAMILY!”
By Tim Pieper5 years ago in Fiction
Clarion
Step. Dust puffed from beneath the cracked soles of her bare feet. Clarion’s head hung low, her eyes watching the way the fine brown dirt fell over the tops of her feet, clinging to the tiny hairs there, unwanted passengers on this journey of drudgery. The sun beat on her shoulders causing them to bow further, the heat like a physical weight.
By Sheila Marie5 years ago in Fiction
Earth Cruise
Earth Cruise Lara was excited. For her 12th birthday she had asked Grandpa for a family cruise, and to her surprise, Grandpa Al had said OK, and here they were. The whole family, Lara, her nine year old brother, Kirk, her mother, and her father were berthed on Star Cruiser Constellation, on a fully paid three week cruise with port stops at Mars, Earth’s moon, and the Earth Space Station orbiter.
By Cleve Taylor 5 years ago in Fiction
In the Shade of a Mushroom
1 Sasha’s breathing was loud in her head, even with the metallic whirring of the rising platform she was standing on. Cool beads of sweat formed on the back of her neck beneath her clean-suit and she could feel the rumble of the humming machinery shaking her knees, which felt rubbery and useless. The platform crept ever upward on its track through the near blackness of the corridor, broken occasionally by a string of dim florescent lights mounted in the steel walls every twenty feet or so. The pace of the platform was agonizing and Sasha’s mind felt as if it were on fire.
By Dylan Paul5 years ago in Fiction
The After
She fidgeted with the locket she wore around her neck. She opened it, looked at the pictures inside, then closed the locket and stuck it back in the neck of her shirt. Ran her fingers along the chain holding the locket and then pulled it back from her shirt as if the heart shape trinket would be missing.
By Bryce Bade 5 years ago in Fiction
BARMAH FOREST
Running through the forest floor on the outskirts of Nerimah, he trips over one of the red ones. It’s a girl, early twenties kind of young and would have been quite pretty when The Source was with her. Her hair is vivid red and long, hanging like wet drapes stuck to her luminous chiseled cheeks, marked with holes the size of pins. 'She’s a Redfree,’ ponders Aden.
By Catherine Stace5 years ago in Fiction
Eden’s Rise
Farai - to rejoice and be happy Prologue We all thought that when the vaccine came out in 2021, it would be the end of the virus. I wish we would have known that it was just the beginning. After the vaccine, things went back to normal, for the most part, until a year later. Covid-19 evolved into a supervirus, causing those who got it to turn into carriers for the first month, but after that, their organs would slowly start to shut off.
By Victoria Schmitt5 years ago in Fiction
The Invasive Grave of Elizabeth Washington
1. The burrower left the dead-fall at the same time as she usually did, at false dawn, as the eastern skies lightened but the cool of the night still lingered. Upon exiting, she carefully replaced the layers of dead and living plants that hid the entrance to her burrow. She made a quick circuit of the clearing, checking that the entrance remained hidden. It was safe, as far as anything could be these days. A dead pine and a thorn bush thicket: home sweet home.
By Catherine Hamilton5 years ago in Fiction
Pandora
L-0W quickly glanced at her arm, where her PerCo Personal Data Companion had just finished analysis of the air quality, particle identification, radiation levels, and weather patterns of the gloomy dustbowl and was now issuing a comically long series of warnings. She snorted. Coming here meant death; she already knew that. Still, she quickly swallowed an iodine tablet, drew her nanite weave tight around her face, and tightened the straps on her goggles and oxygen mask, for she could already taste the deadly, radioactive salt. It was bitter and numbed her lips, and the smallest particles couldn't be avoided. It was the first time she had ever tasted salt, and she had been bracing herself for the sensation.
By Adam Barrett5 years ago in Fiction
