Sci Fi
A Place Once Called Home. Top Story - June 2021.
The house looked a bit more run-down than Abigail remembered it, despite it only having been a few years since she’d been there. It had been mostly left alone, the only fully intact house on the street. All the others had broken windows, wide-open doors, or had been partially incinerated. This house, however, was still standing, with nothing but a couple cracks in the windows and a bit of moss growing on the roof.
By Reyna Condon5 years ago in Fiction
The Resort
Far away in the mountains, the helicopter weaves amongst peaks without regard to physics. As non-aerodynamic as a bumblebee or dragonfly, it lifts on pockets of wind and drops without warning. To the millionaires strapped into the seats, it is a terrifying experience.
By Peter Wisan5 years ago in Fiction
In the Cage of a Dream's Lament
It was the perfect life. Trella lived for the moments when she stood in a ballroom, hushed voices rising over the music that provided an ambiance absent from ordinary life. Even when she was not dancing, she liked to close her eyes and just bask in the soft percussion and the trill of a violin. And, no matter how much she wandered or frolicked among the gathered guests, her feet never ached.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
By an Illusion's Fickle Thread. Top Story - June 2021.
I sift through the panels of prospective partners and wonder just what the hell my mother was thinking with this charade. The pictures don't matter—women showing off their teeth in white arrays, hairstyles that defy the imagination (and gravity), too little or too much make-up from the Generation Markets—but I find myself searching for something. That something, well, perhaps I don't exactly know what it is yet.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Fiction
First Date at the Last Blockbuster
The dull and corroded satellite lurched toward the Earth pod, its rusted solar panel screeching and scratching across the side. Petra didn't even notice. Besides, the Federation built these Earth pods to be indestructible. Space junk was too common an occurrence to give it even a second's notice. Nothing interesting ever happened.
By Meredith Bell5 years ago in Fiction
Plague Dogs
A series of taps at his wrist alerts Nathan that a delivery has arrived. His vitaband lights up with the checkmark that indicates it is government approved and sterile, so he swipes the alert away and gets up from his desk. He can hear Edgar, already aware of the rover’s arrival, racing back and forth in front of the door with that manic energy that all mini-pins seem to have. Tiny doberman pinschers with the tension of a coiled spring.
By Owen Schaefer5 years ago in Fiction
Time
I watched her hypnotize my coworkers, each of them listening intently as she handed out assignments. They were simple tasks, like dinner was to be outside her door at 6PM sharp, and warm towels at 9AM. Simple, but she said each as if it were gravely important, accentuating it with a large tip and a promise of more. She went through everyone on shift, except me. I had come in late and was hanging back, observing the commotion at the front desk.
By Faith M Adam5 years ago in Fiction
All Tomorrow's Lives
I am in Colorado, flying above the forest. My body-extension drone hovers above the beginnings of the wildfire that will burn an area the size of Manhattan. There is a plume of black smoke, and the air has become turbulent. Twenty people will die in this fire, most of them firefighters. I can only assume this is the best possible outcome. I have no access to the information in my past, but if I were to judge by the mobilisation of crews here to fight it, and its proximity to the town of Kittredge, I believe it could have been a high-casualty event.
By Owen Schaefer5 years ago in Fiction
