Sci Fi
Boxed In
It started off like every other day. As I woke, put the tea kettle on the stove, and watched the waves hit the shore, I recognized there was something peculiar about this day. The tea tasted the same. The water was as calm as ever. However, as I approached my front door, I felt a chill down my spine. The back of my hair perked up. Then, out the window, there it was.
By Dan Marcus5 years ago in Fiction
Instructions Upon My Death
My Trusted Friend- If you are reading this letter, then I assume you got the brown paper package. It contains information and proof that needs to be in the public's hands, not the government's. They would suppress it. To understand the instructions at the end, you have to understand the beginning. I never wanted any of what happened. Our lives were very ordinary. We were a husband and wife with four children, living on our farm. We had a good life, and I loved my life. Until the green lights started.
By J. Delaney-Howe5 years ago in Fiction
When I Grow Up
Ever since Darren was a little boy he has wanted to grow up to be one thing: a shark. Darren used to dream of doing nothing but swimming in the ocean and devouring fish. By the time Darren was twelve he could name almost every species of shark known to science, was the star of his middle school swim team, and constantly researching methods to turn himself into a shark. However, being on a sports team did not save Darren from ridicule. He was always so open about what he wanted to be when he grew up, and by the time puberty hit being a shark was no longer cool. He did not mind the bullying, but welcomed it. He needed to learn how to defend himself for when he finally reached his goal.
By Katey Lindsey5 years ago in Fiction
Infinity's Juice Box
My name is Dr. Tricia Harper and I’m a professor of theoretical physics at Princeton University. I have written many scholarly papers and several text books. I like to think of myself as a serious scientist, but to the world I am often called the Time Travel Lady.
By Antonella Di Minni5 years ago in Fiction
My Father Was....
Since I was a kid, I always wondered what my dad did for a living. Some days he was home some days he wasn’t. Some mornings he’d sleep in, some nights he’d stay up. However every time he went to work he’d always take a crusty package wrapped in brown paper.
By Kasey V. Draven5 years ago in Fiction
