Sci Fi

Dark reverie
Walking down the streets I grew up in, I say hello to the fond sense of distress rising like a lazy wave in my chest. I slow my pace and, for a moment, embrace the scent of gratefulness accompanying it. I still feel. I still am myself.
By Sam5 years ago in Fiction
Haven
It’s July 23rd, Julia’s birthday. “Julia get up.” Her mother commands as she sweeps the dust off the floor. They live in an apartment in New York, New York now in ruins from the serpents, which the world now calls laviathins, or aliens in short term. They wrecked the city and no one has any idea how to stop them, with intense and loud noises, the world hasn’t been the same since they arrived. New York has fallen, the military and economics have crashed so no one can buy or sell anything, and the military has become defenseless towards the leviathan. “I can’t…” Julia says. Still thinking about her encounter yesterday- not that she would dare tell her mother about it.
By Ysabel C5 years ago in Fiction
The Polchinski Locket
The Stormers bear down on me with endless fire. Golden, glowing shards of plasmic metal whistle past me and strike my armor, which won't hold up to an endless barrage such as this one. Weaving between cover, I have no hope of escape. My weapon is nearly empty, and my lone searing knife won't do much good with a group of enemies.
By K. T. Scott5 years ago in Fiction
A Cure For Malice
Ash. Soot. Crumbling stone walls held an air of something grand clinging to a shred of existence. A house once stood here; one large enough to house Pinnacle’s security division. In this era of cramped charging hubs and Lilliputian living spaces, long removed from when such places were more than rubble, Malice couldn’t imagine another purpose for such a large space.
By Sadie Clements5 years ago in Fiction
To Pluto
He slid his fingers over the cold metal. It wasn’t beautiful, by any means. The chain had tarnished and rusted long ago. He could see that the heart shaped pendant used to be ravishing. It had a dismal green tint behind the years of dirt and grime. The blackened silver hugging the stone still clung onto its former beauty, still trying to shine. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, admiring the beauty of the jewelry. He,mindlessly, turned it over and over in his hands. He wondered who it belonged to and what the story could’ve been. He turned it over in his hands one last time and saw something. If he wouldn’t have looked down at that moment, he would’ve missed it. It was the smallest twirl. It seemed to have been burned into the metal. An inscription, perhaps? He thought. It definitely didn’t look professional. It was shaky, messy, and a stark contrast to the elegant front.
By Hope Davis5 years ago in Fiction
Bamboo Gardens
7/9/2024 "Pass me the skin," were the last words my father ever spoke to me. The waterskin wouldn't have saved him anyway. Red-rot had set in long back.
By Tyler Torgrimson5 years ago in Fiction
Programmed Priorities
Plumes of smoke had eclipsed the sun for centuries. So long, in fact, that the residual clock battery in the TA-96 had died many years ago.
By Joseph Cieslak5 years ago in Fiction
The Cost of Hope
Day -01: Preparation Grubosh cubes weren’t the best tasting food and I suppose that’s the idea, but at least we had plenty of them. The pale white cubes with tiny Gs on all 6 sides were easy to store, which is why I obtained so many. I stuffed the last of the water purification trodes into the second duffle bag as I heard a noise in the front room. I grabbed the bags and quickly threw them into the closet.
By Steven Allen5 years ago in Fiction
My Dystopian Promise
The world was silent. The sky was dark. The life was gone. We walked with hurried steps through the empty street. The chill of the air made my anxious beads of sweat freeze down my back as they moved quickly. We couldn’t afford to be late.
By Lydia Booker5 years ago in Fiction
From Darkness Comes
Sweat slicked hair kept stinging her eyes. Hands far too deep in the dust and grime of this experiment, the only option was to endure because attempting to push it back would likely leave her blind. She puffed air from her supple cheeks in an effort to keep focused. Every little detail of this contraption’s wiring had to be perfect. If she failed, the only thing worse than the rip in the universe that could happen was the sheer disappointment of failure.
By Jin Exelixi5 years ago in Fiction
Samaria
I woke up under a dying tree with caustic ash dried to my lips and teeth. The ash was no worse than the dried rubble that I walked through or the leathery feel of my skin. I was dragging my leg at times and finding difficulty managing an upright posture. My clothes have been charred from the fire. Surprisingly, they had held up. I see fires in the distance behind me raging above the sparsely treelined horizon and hear explosions reverberating. There will be no survivors, nor should there be. I have been frozen for years in the deep freeze lockers in the pharma biogenetics deep lab basement. An apparent malfunction of the ancillary power grid changed that, because they had no intention of releasing anything that was fabricated at this particular plant of horrors and human experimentation gone extremely wrong. Experiments no one in their right mind would have done. They locked it down and closed it like a time capsule after selling the most horrendous of these mutated freaks to the most sadistic people inhabiting earth. Had it been for the fact this lab was unmanned I wouldn’t have gotten away. I am sure my exit breach set off the series of explosions. They didn’t expect anything to escape. The trip wires tell me that their intentions were to kill anything coming or going.
By DEEJAY 5 years ago in Fiction
The Unnamed Child
The planet was dying, and Ward Ad1 welcomed it. She longed for it, especially in the evening when consciousness returned to end her drug-induced slumber. She fumbled for the eyedropper next to her bedroll, opened the face shield on her helmet, and winced as the moisture coated the lens of her eyes. Pink tears slid down her cheeks as she sat up and took her first painful breath of the day. The oxygen from her tank pierced her lungs. She sipped stale air, eventually gathering enough strength to sit up, the sharpness of her breathing slowly subsiding. She nudged the lump in the bedroll next to hers and elicited a soft but unmistakably angry grunt. Ward Ma3 cracked her dry, dust-encrusted eyelids open just enough to glare at her bunkmate.
By Erin Benson5 years ago in Fiction