Sci Fi
In Black
In April, the cherry blossoms used to fall, covering the courtyard outside our apartment in a pink blanket. Dad used to tell me that the building was designed to look like a Spanish hacienda. I think hacienda means big house, but I never did ask him about it. I’ll never be able to ask him about it. The cherry blossoms won’t fall this year because the trees are dead. Almost everything is dead now, including my dad.
By Mack Devlin5 years ago in Fiction
Her Nuclear Family
The trees were ripe with fruit. Green turned to red, deep and dark like blood. Each one nestled in leaves, wrapped around it protectively as though the branches knew that you might steal one, and were prepared to scratch. Luca gazed up, eyes squinting at the light that fell dappled between the shapes. She could practically taste them; she had done that once, against the better judgment of the elders. At first the fruit had been sweet, then a striking bitter that had lingered on her tongue for days.
By Matilda Lambert5 years ago in Fiction
The Moon Bases
The year was 2121. Humanity’s slow crawl into space had found new life with the influx of funding it received from private corporations and anonymous donors. Public opinion favored many reasons for colonizing other planetary bodies, but above all was an insurance policy for the seed of life, a fail-safe in case the rapidly declining conditions on Earth rendered it inhabitable and irreparable. An obvious initial step to long-term off-planet colonization would be to create a stable launching point on Earth’s natural satellite, Luna, or more commonly referred to as the moon.
By The Hooded Man5 years ago in Fiction
More Than Me
Just an ordinary day in a crowded neighborhood of the town of Nova, where people are shopping going about their lives, and living in their non-suburbs homes. Sonya, the woman who goes unnoticed but knows everyone, was walking through the neighborhood and strolled upon a heart-shaped locket that she had seen on the ground. However, instead of picking it up she looked at it and said, "I feel your pain what is living if you never noticed". She decided to leave it and hope that whoever lost the heart-shaped locket will find it.
By Tai Rogers5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
Part One It wasn't supposed to happen like this... That was the last thought entering Dawn's mind as her shocked eyes pulled away from the rear view mirror. In the reflection, she could see the slow pool of blood flowing out from her sister's abdomen. Liz was crumpled in an unmoving heap on the ground 15 yards behind her. That was as far as Liz had gotten before the robots fired lasers at her fleeing the vehicle.
By Janea Speer5 years ago in Fiction
Heart-shaped Protector
Like many children growing up in traumatic circumstances, I had an imaginary friend. Mine was a giant armor-clad woman with gorgeous amber hair and tired blue eyes. Her armor was sleek and beautifully ornate, primarily painted red with white and green accents. Midst my dreams, she’d take me on adventures to stunning garden worlds with the most breathtaking alien flora and fauna. I’d ride atop her shoulder admiring the endless fields of flowers and curious creatures as she told me stories of her battles amongst the stars. Lanora would tell me to never forget that I was part of a brave and noble race. And that she was doing everything she could to earn our salvation. For many years, those dreams were the only place I ever felt safe.
By john bruce5 years ago in Fiction
Fat Ones
She was right behind him, but the living storm now ripped his name from her throat and casts it impossibly far away. Despite the others trying to pull him back behind the protective flap of the jeep, he kept reaching for her. His arm stretched into the impenetrable wall of dust, wind-whipped debris forming numerous cuts on the palm and back of his open hand. The sharp stings morphing into an almost… ticklish sensation?
By The Cat of Cats5 years ago in Fiction
Songbirds
Songbird It’s 5 am and she’s already awake. She never really sleeps. Another Dunkin Donut morning, she says. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she considers climbing into the bathtub. Why did I pick a house that didn’t have a shower? She stands, stretches and, walks over to the window and remembers what it was about this house that made her have to have it…the view.
By Alexis Harrell5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Man On Earth
The Last Man On Earth “We gotta do it,” Ron is saying. We’re at the beach, sitting on sand, staring at water. How long did it take us to get here? We’ve been wandering endlessly, looking for life. Neither of us knows which ocean this is, if it’s even an ocean at all. A lifeguard chair towers over us; my imagination draws a lifeguard into it. Zinc on nose. Whistle around neck. “Today. Tonight. Waiting isn’t smart.”
By Diana Spechler5 years ago in Fiction







