Sci Fi
Bullfight
An hour ago, IW-666 and I were in the barracks, waiting for our turn to slaughter or be slaughtered like livestock. His razor hummed like bees returning to their hive. Clumps of his body hair floated to the ground like coffee-colored leaves. I seem to find the past in all these little details, but when I search for the future in the same spots, I come up empty.
By Kyle Christopher4 years ago in Fiction
Aberdeen
(read after my other story, Gobby Blank) Aberdeen the majestic grazed in a field of Reed Canary grass. A couple of miles away were buildings, once lanky and salient against the sky, now broken and prostrate in the sand, defeated, being trifled by the ocean tide. The gods of earth were hostile toward humans for not honoring each other or the planet. The oceans consumed the land; people were sparse and lesser, both physically and mentally. All of nature was askew. Aberdeen's grazing was interrupted by the sounds of a weak cry in the distance. "A rickety animal," he thought, "possibly sick." He strolled in the direction of the screams. On the dock by the river, he found a drawer from a dresser with a human baby lying inside. "Fresh from the womb, this one, only a day or two at the most," Aberdeen thought and sniffed the baby. He heard the prayer rising from the child. The breeze gently caressed them both, and the cries subsided. Aberdeen looked up and summoned Simiana, the monkey from the woods. He snorted a greeting to her. Simiana scooped the tiny human from the drawer and latched it to her breast. When the baby finished eating, Simiana returned the child to the drawer, gave an agreeing nod to Aberdeen, and walked back into the woods.
By CAROLE S TURNER4 years ago in Fiction
Plasticity
It took one man holding out his hand to disrupt everything. And to Senator Watts, it was an appendage of faith, a pound of flesh arrogated by one Mr. Yittle. Nothing was left to the imagination. Yittle was forthcoming enough. Having served on the Judiciary Committee for several terms, Watts had certainly heard it all. From theories on election fraud and insurrection, to counterfeit semi-conductor chips, commodity price fixing, and the invalidity of blocking patents. Nothing compared to what Yittle peddled.
By Adam K. Freeland4 years ago in Fiction
Wander
Dark, cold, and empty, for the most part this is what space was. It was also the perfect description for the inside of Royce Wander’s heart. I sat, hands bound, in a cell blinded from the abyss that poured into the room from the lifeless expansion in which we drifted.
By Pyarra Rodriguez4 years ago in Fiction
March of the Aurochs
When I was a young boy, I used to love going to these gatherings. There was always lots of good food, I got a chance to play with my friends, and most importantly, I got to get out of the house for a while. However, as I entered adolescence, the gatherings gradually became less and less fun. Every year, fewer of my friends would attend, preferring to hang out with their friends from school rather than the friends that had been thrust upon them by family. As I grew older, there was also more expectation for me to participate in the traditional side of the gatherings – the prayer ceremonies that often lasted for what felt like hours. The gatherings became less about playing around and goofing off, and more about learning about the traditions of my parents’ faith.
By Danh Chantachak4 years ago in Fiction
The Final Hunt
The metal door creaked open, and I was exposed to a cold winter air. Outside lay a fresh new coat of snow on the ground. The sun had just set behind the mountains. Taking my first step into the outside my foot fell deep into the snow. I would have to trudge my way to my destination today. As I stood their admiring the purple and red sky of the setting sun there was a sense of peace around me. I then noticed the comet still hanging proudly in the sky. It seemed like it was only yesterday that it had arrived. But it has been several months now. Maybe even a whole year. I’m not sure anymore.
By Cameron Bauder4 years ago in Fiction
The world as we know it.
"PUSH" I laid back on the grassy knoll while I listened to the yelling and commotion coming from inside the small, midwife trailer behind me. Mum had been in labor for thirty-two hours and we were at the tail end of the 'miracle of life'. Whoever coined that term should be disowned, the last day and a half had been enough to persuade me into a life of celibacy. Not that repopulation was something I had any interest in anyway, especially after the disaster, bringing a child into this world seems cruel and unusual.
By Brooklynn Brown4 years ago in Fiction
They Don’t Make ‘em Like This Anymore
Ched read the memo one more time and grinned; the blood was in the water, and he’d be the first shark there. He was in Acquisitions for MemCo. the finest purveyors of quantum VR entertainment. They were also now the first and only company able to extract and re-construct memories from persons with brain damage. On the PR side they were already running ads of Alzheimer’s patients watching their own memories, holding hands with their loving families. He wasn’t here for that fluffy bullshit. He wanted blood. Tears. Gratuitous nudity – the stuff that shocked, turned heads and moved volume.
By Sam Eggertson4 years ago in Fiction
Humanity Must Endure
Sunday, May 16, 2032 - 2:45 a.m. The night was purposefully quiet, the way that Hannah Van Horn needed it to be. All things considered, she’d rather have a fan on and her music playlist on in the background, but the time of those luxuries had gone. In the past four years, much about life as they knew it had all but dried up completely for her and her new family.
By Mike Gingrich4 years ago in Fiction
The Church without a Steeple
Dakotah Farmer was huddled in the dirty root cellar with her father, mother and two younger brothers. Her light brown hair, which she had just cleaned, already had flecks of dirt in it. She couldn’t believe this happened right after she had taken a shower. The wind outside the cellar was blowing hard and the local tornado sirens were sounding. It sounded like a fast moving train outside, only louder.
By B. K. Garner4 years ago in Fiction
