Sci Fi
Impostors
Henry had just finished feeding the family dog. It was his very last chore each day, and it was always a sign his work was done. Finally, after a long day working in the hot sun, he could have a seat on the front porch and relax. His father would usually join him, and they would both have a well-deserved break before his mother called them inside for dinner.
By Kevin McMechan5 years ago in Fiction
Locational Dissonance
Aliens. It must be aliens, Jackson thought as he rummaged through bales of hay in the old barn, searching for some sort of secret switch. He paced the interior of the barn, looking for anything, opening the door periodically only to find that his situation had not changed. He's seen spy movies. There's always a secret switch. But that doesn't apply here. This is more Doctor Who than James Bond. There were no mirrors, making it impossible to check for a Quantum Leap. He'd been beamed up, Scotty, and he wasn't the only thing in the crosshairs. Closed eyes. Opened eyes. Barn. Closed eyes. Open eyes. Barn. Click the heels, there's no place like home, but this still wasn't home. What happened? How did this happen? His mind raced back to aliens before opening the barn door to make certain he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't. This was a nightmare. What had once been the path from the house to the barn had been replaced by sand. A blank, empty desert from horizon to horizon. He had heard a noise in the barn, checked it out, and left to go back to bed, only to find the bright sun beating down on the Sahara-like dune. His mind had raced for logical explanations, of which there were none, leading him down the path of fiction. The problem being that fiction couldn't explain his very real situation. He didn't want it explained though. He wanted it fixed. He wanted to be back in his bed. He didn't even necessarily need the barn back. It hadn't been used in at least a generation, save for a place to unwind and get away from the world. So that settled it. Whatever outer world entity or mad science nut had resulted in this was free to keep the barn as long as Jackson was free to go. A fair trade, Jackson considered. It was a nice enough barn. In fact, Jackson came into this deal with nothing, so the other side was only getting a barn without having to give up anything they already owned. Yes, that would make for a good bargaining tactic. Wait a minute, Jackson realized, bargaining. A stage of grief. Does that mean it's over? There's nothing to grieve if Jackson isn't spending the rest of his days here. No, surely something would be figured out. Unless that was denial. He opened the door. Sand. Not even any cactuses. Just sand. Yellow, bland sand. He closed the door. Insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. He'd like to see even the strongest of men not go a little insane when faced with the fate that befell him. No! Not befell, he thought. This is not the end of my story it is merely a chapter. But is it the final chapter? No. He had to tell himself no. Besides, this wasn't even the worst situation he's been in. No, that was a lie. This was by far worse. Worse than breaking his arm slipping on ice when he was 8. The arm healed as he knew it would. Worse than any breakup. There were other fish in the sea. Worse than getting fired as he'd always had a job lined up. This was so much worse. Should he start walking? It's not like this barn had any food for him. But there was the old adage of staying put if you get lost. Although that may only apply when people are actually looking for you. He'd decided to lie down on a hay bale and try to sleep. Maybe sleeping in a dream would kick him back to reality? If this was a dream. Denial. He closed his eyes, but his mind raced. Clearly. Impossible to get any kind of sleep here. He got up in a huff and opened the barn door again. Kicking at the ground, he became desperate. On his hands and knees, Jackson began digging. Sand crumbled into his digging spot to be thrown aside again, with the goal of making headway to something. Anything. Center of the Earth if he had to. About a foot from the surface and the digging got harder. No, not harder, impossible. It felt metallic. He cleared an area of sand away to reveal a sheet of metal with rivets running along it and a straight handle. Freezing in disbelief, Jackson acted. Gripping the handle with his dominant hand, he turned. A click, a jolt, and he was sent rocketing back into the barn by a bolt of pure electricity running through his body. He landed with a thud in the middle of the barn as the door swung back closed. Darkness fell in his vision. Light again as he opened his eyes. No clue how long he was out, Jackson surged upright and opened the door to reveal a very welcome familiarity. He was home. His own yard. His barn was exactly where it was supposed to be. Jackson absentmindedly wandered the two hundred feet back to his house, opened the door, and made his way to the bedroom, finally at peace in his home yet again. He had decided to call it a dream. Although he knew it wasn't. The overwhelming evidence to the episode being reality was a handle-shaped burn mark on the inside of his dominant hand. But no. Denial suited him. It was a dream.
By Hunter Beebe5 years ago in Fiction
Bill Jordan's Barn
It was night-time at the crofter’s cottage where Iskira had grown up, and in this place, remote from the university by more than a hundred miles of crag and tarn and moor, nights were dark. That same dark night reigned all over the globe. Pre-Nottingham Earth was not destined to end for over a decade yet.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Ch03DoF
The greatest effect from the fall happened in the midwestern region of the former United States, around the former great lakes. The cascade of failures started there, and hit the local residents hard. An estimated Fifty-Five percent of the population in the region died, even more fled the region hoping to find some other part of the country which could provide stability and security. This brought a rise of violence, local tyranny, and in some places a slave economy. Chicago in particular suffered from both the die off due to starvation and collapse of infrastructure, and a massive influx of refugees looking for stability that was only found after heavily armed gangs rose to prominence as local warlords.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
Wence Origin Story
I was found in a ceiling of an abandoned building downtown by a janitor who took me home to his young wife that could not conceive. They raised me in an honest, mannered, and educated home while doing there best when I was 13 I went through Some changes....
By Quenton Carter5 years ago in Fiction
Green Light in the Undercity
A successful thief always has a plan. Plan A in this case being so completely successful, came almost as a surprise. The perfect crime is of course one that is never discovered. Rather than a fearful run for her life, of a desperate running battle with security forces trying to surround and isolate her, it turned into a walk of shame. The mark gave her a kiss on her cheek, and called her a cab. She intentionally avoided touching her locket, containing more wealth than she had ever held before. She played the energetic, club-hopping, party girl, and was never suspected. The cab was given the address of her hotel, along with her false name, a series of dead ends that would lead nowhere if someone came looking for her after tomorrow. Of course, she stayed in character for the duration of the trip. Everyone knew that the council recorded from the cameras in cabs, as well as throughout the city.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
Daughters
Blaster-Track Commander wearily raised his head, not registering at first that what he had heard was the sound of the cell door opening. Suddenly several pairs of gentle hands were upon him, carefully helping his cramped strengthless body out of its miserable home these last months and onto the surface of what was no more than a remote asteroid with a hollow gored into it. The wonder of it all was compounded when Blaster-Track Commander, blinking in the starlight that had replaced the dark, saw who was in charge of the nine short-skirted Mini-Flashes surrounding him.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Things We Carry
Fiction || Fantasy || Adventure Photo Inspiration by Unknown Artist Imagination fueled Steampunk & Anime. The train sped along quickly under the night sky. Its trail of light lit up the mountain valleys around it with a soft glow. Tonight's sky blazed brilliantly alive in the silver full moon's vividness. And it was a beautiful sight. And to some, it would also be a beautiful night, but for her, it was a time of war.
By Heather Kallen5 years ago in Fiction
The Four Heroes, Chapter Two
“Bret Stevens, back for more!” the singer laughed in cheerful amazement, as she beheld the sole rider speeding for the square. “Here we were thinking we weren’t going to get any audience at all, and we end up playing for The Four Heroes themselves. Well, he’s going to need some fighting music, and there’s only one that’ll do!”
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Out of Reach
"Welcome to paradise." Her first introduction to the city: brief and-- though she didn't realize at the time --deeply sarcastic, on the tail end of the bird that shipped her from starvation (and thrust her into poverty). They landed in Yellow and, like any fool, she was awestruck by its shining facade. That is, until she got the king's treatment: an escort straight to Red. From time to time she'd hop the hourly shuttle through Orange, and tears welled in her eyes at the beauty of it; at the thought that, one day, she'd be pulling deliveries there, too. She was a stupid kid.
By Elizabeth Noyes5 years ago in Fiction
