Sci Fi
The Red Butterfly
“Salvation in submission.” These are the words that have formed the foundation of society, or at least what is left of it. At some point, they may have meant something more philosophical, something to guide the minds and souls of the masses. But beneath the stains of time, any altruism has been swept away and buried. We are no longer souls to be saved, but rather numbers in an unholy equation.
By Kyle Gaffney5 years ago in Fiction
Love in The Time Of Post-Apocalyptic Moulds
“Post Apocalyptic Moulds?, What the fuck is a post apocalyptic mold?” Aaron had to nearly scream to ensure his scavenging partner Dave, who was mostly obscured by the blowing black dust, would be able to hear him “I don’t know man, you tell me. What do I look like a fucking microbiologist?” Dave yelled back then doubled over, racked by a massive coughing fit, mostly the result of inhalation of the poisonous atmosphere, an unfortunate and unavoidable hazard of his chosen profession. Aaron rushed to his friends side, put his arm around him and helped him scoot around a corner to a quieter spot where they could sit, partially shielded from the hounding winds and ever present, deadly particulate filled air. “I have no idea either bro but I found this heart shaped locket partially buried in the muck about 20 clicks east of here. Etched on the surface, it says `From EJ to DJ: Post-Apocalypytic Moulds. All my love. December 2019’” Dave had mostly recovered from his coughing spasm and turned the locket over in his hands inspecting it closely as Aaron continued to describe what he had found. “When I opened it a small piece of neatly folded paper fell out.” He took back the locket than handed the now unfolded paper to Dave. “It’s the damndest thing, the print is so fucking tiny, but clearly hand written, I don’t know how the fuck the dude could write that small, and there are images, digitally rendered, of what the author describes as various incarnations of the post apocalyptic moulds.” Dave quickly scanned the scrap of paper, essentially confirming what Aaron had conveyed, then whistled softly to himself as the age of the object, and the potential implications slowly dawned on him. “2019, damn, that’s almost 50 years ago, and more than 10 years PC (pre-cataclysm).” “Yep. Crazy right? I’ve been slowly deciphering the text and think I mostly have it figured. Thank God we didn’t lose magnifying glass technology in the cataclysm” Aaron said half jokingly. He had more of a sense of humor than his best friend, but that was not saying much, and post cataclysm, humor was a thing in desperately short supply, much like water, food, and just about everything else. Dave glared at Aaron “Not funny bro. If you’re done playing stand up what does it say?”
By Everyday Junglist5 years ago in Fiction
The Artifact
Journal entry: Day 193 since the disappearance This should’ve been a normal day like any other. I would wake, wash, get dressed, have breakfast, and go to my classes. But it isn’t, no anymore. I don’t even know why I keep writing into this stupid thing, it’s not like anyone can read it considering that they all disappeared from the face of the earth, but I guess writing here is still keeping me somewhat sane, if there was ever such a thing.
By Cristiana Lupan5 years ago in Fiction
After the Flood
The world didn’t end with war or viruses or alien invasion. There was no fires and brimstone, or the arrival of four horsemen announcing certain doom, as the world simply ended in water – major earthquakes under the oceans caused the tectonic plates to sink and the oceans to rise. Coastal cities sank in minutes, mainland suck in hours, while those lucky enough to live on the higher regions had days. Still, humanity stood no chance in surviving.
By Jayden Blue5 years ago in Fiction
Aftermath
Aftermath Author: Matthew Cooper Clare sat by a small fire, enough to keep her warm but not enough to attract too much attention. She nervously fiddles with her necklace which is the last physical memory that she has of her mom. Her mom gave her the necklace on her tenth birthday because, in her family, the first double-digit birthday was seen as a sign of growing into an adult. It was a beautiful heart-shaped locket that sparkled in the sun. Clare had come from a low-income family, so the necklace was probably inexpensive, but it now takes her back to a better time. While she fiddles with it, she is also trying to wipe the dust and dirt off to see some resemblance of what the necklace used to look like. She often wonders if her mother dying in the rioting was a better way to go than be alive today.
By Matthew Cooper5 years ago in Fiction
Multiple Rooms on Earth
Joe Lewis Johnson, popularly known as Joel Johnson, was your average young lad. An average typical teenager, with spectacles and an unknown , unquenched love for rock n roll. He was not very popular ( nor that he cared ), but one must admit, for a goofy looking guy like him, schools are always hard. He would hate them all. He wouldn’t talk to anybody, because none of them showed him even a single bit of comradeship, that’s how he felt. His mother was a Doctor who was always busy( that’s what he only knows about his mother’s profession). His father was always on travel, cracking business deals and all. So you can say, our Joel was rich.
By Syed Arabi Khalique5 years ago in Fiction
Decay
When one sense is taken away, the other senses become sharper to compensate. What about when they're all taken from you? Hello? I’m just talking out loud. I mean, not really talking. But my thoughts… my thoughts are all I have left. My thoughts. My memories. Visions of my past. Do you know how difficult it is to build a solid vision from memory? Do you remember what you did three days ago? Do you remember what the lobby of the bank looks like? I mean exactly? Do you remember what color your toothbrush was? Memories are fleeting. They just fall away. Crumble. Why don’t I remember more? It’s getting harder. But, I find that by organizing my favorite memories into folders and saying them out loud, I’m able to hold on to them.
By Ryan North5 years ago in Fiction
Flicker
Chapter One – Flicker Annabelle chuckled at the anime playing on her iPhone. Normally very responsible about walking while watching, this time she was distracted by a bizarre flashing on her screen. She didn’t even notice the city bus that flattened her seconds later.
By Daniel Stine5 years ago in Fiction
