Sci Fi

THE VILLAGE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Sometimes the strangest mysteries don’t come from legends, old books, or lost diaries. Sometimes they come from satellites quietly orbiting Earth at 17,000 miles per hour — cameras clicking, grids updating, pixels shifting.
By The Insight Ledger about a month ago in Fiction
The UFO
Millie rolled her eyes when she heard her little brother Jack knock on her door and yell her name. She was right in the middle of binging music videos on Youtube. Being interrupted was annoying, especially for what would probably be something stupid. She got up from her bed and went to the door. When she opened it, she asked, "What?" in a somewhat annoyed tone.
By Leah Flesherabout a month ago in Fiction
Rise of the Machines
I am sitting in the dirt inside a cave on the hiking trail up the street from my old house. I look next to me to see my dog and my little brother still sleeping peacefully. It’s easier to forget how horrific real life is when we are asleep. I am glad they have an escape. I sigh and roll my eyes now to think about everything that’s happened and how it all started. It is so cliché, but in the end, the machines turned against us. The creations we made out of arrogance for convenience grew to overpower us. Though I think the first mistake was thinking we could control them in the first place. Once we gave them intelligence, we should have known better. Pretending like we could give life to these machines and they wouldn’t eventually realize we were using and abusing them. I mean, we had countless movies explaining why that was a bad idea before we even had the technology for AI, but the pompousness of humans of science and “progress” is wondrous and endless.
By Leah Suzanne Deweyabout a month ago in Fiction
Dreams of Epsiton
The Dreams of Epsiton Perhaps things might have gone much different for me if I did not have such vivid dreams. In one such dream I was in a subterranean church, the bricks were black with soot and cobwebs were woven in every crevasse of the place and I was alone save for the shadows that stretched along the walls. I was dressed in a suit as if dressed for a wedding, but a great fear gripped my entire being as I waited for one of the shadows to materialize and join me at the blood-soaked altar in front of the inverted cross decorated with serpents.
By Lawrence Finlaysonabout a month ago in Fiction
The Halazia Chronicles
Spring had come quietly to the Han River. Not the bright, loud kind. The kind that arrived in small changes Wooyoung only noticed because he spent so many evenings here.
By Guia Noconabout a month ago in Fiction
THE LAST SANCTUARY OF NEON SKY
No one alive remembered the real color of the sky. Official history, as recorded by the Ministry of Perspective, stated that Earth’s atmosphere had always shimmered in neon hues—pulsing blues, electric greens, and streaks of violent pink that twisted like serpents across the heavens. Anyone who questioned it was, by definition, “Factually Distorted,” and removed for “Cognitive Rehabilitation.”
By Alisher Jumayevabout a month ago in Fiction
the minbar of Saladin
“It was the most beautiful thing ever crafted.” “I’m sure it was, Akharini. But how can we steal it if it was destroyed almost seventy years ago?”
By majokiabout a month ago in Fiction
to the flame
We’ve all heard about light pollution and how the glow from cities and towns obscures the night sky, making it difficult to view stars and planets. Maybe we’ve even discovered how our luminescent nightlife affects nocturnal animals, migrating birds, and all manner of insects, confusing them and contributing to their alarming decline.
By majokiabout a month ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Collected Lost Souls
The First Time I Saw Him The first time I saw the boy, he was sitting on the edge of the school playground beside a kid who was crying.
By Fazal Hadiabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lantern of Quiet Choices. AI-Generated.
In the bustling town of Auravale, where neon lights gleamed against glass towers and drones painted the sky with streaks of silver, lived a 14-year-old boy named Rian Solis. Auravale was a place that believed louder was better—louder advertisements, louder opinions, louder celebrations. Yet, amid the constant clamor, Rian preferred quiet places, quiet thoughts, and quiet choices.
By shakir hamidabout a month ago in Fiction
Borrowed Days
I never believed in miracles, not the big ones. But small ones—the quiet, almost accidental kind—I think those might be real.
By Fazal Hadiabout a month ago in Fiction
In Too Deep
Pearl sat brimming with excitement on the edge of her seat. Going to the surface was a rare occurrence; it had happened only four times in her fifteen years of life. She watched the needle on the depth gauge slowly tick toward zero. Seahorses fluttered in her stomach as her excitement grew. Her father slowed the submarine as they approached. Pearl watched the water outside the control deck windows lighten in color until it finally washed away, revealing a clear blue sky. Pearl jumped and slipped off her seat, mainly from excitement and partially from surprise at how bright the incoming light was. Her eyes were accustomed to the much darker conditions of the habitat nearly an eighth of a mile below the surface.
By Eric Boringabout a month ago in Fiction