Sci Fi
Deuteronomy Digging Dystopia
"What are you doing!? I don't care how many days you haven't been here; today is your day. I am your liaison; I'm here for you. This is your chance to become a contributing member of our community from an unimaginably difficult place. My family and I, the survivors of this town who's grizzled hopeful faces you've seen fighting through oppression everyday, and the United Nations of Earth are depending on you to fuel our bond and will to live to a strength that can challenge the very fabric of dimensional walls. Your 180 redistribution is how we all persevere---it's the only path back to our oneness---our source of strength is our responsibility to act and react out of love. The day the clouds left in 2102 was the reckoning that weeded out the malevolence, the day we evolved, and today is your day to face evolutionary reckoning.
By Barb Snodgrass5 years ago in Fiction
More than Words
Emma leaned against her favorite sign. Pickpockets will be hanged. The message was not meant for her. No. It was intended to elicit a sense of calm to the high citizens of the New Republic, so they would come here and spend their credits. Members of High Society would climb down from their metal towers and sky-rise apartments without fear of losing their wealth to the likes of Emma or other pickpockets.
By David Ekrut5 years ago in Fiction
Heart-Shaped Prison
The worst part about the trenches was not the bullets that whizzed overhead or the yellow gas that made the lungs turn inside out, or even the threat of a mortar exploding you into a million pieces. The worst part about the trenches was the mud.
By H.P. Gillette5 years ago in Fiction
Firewall
The only sound he recognizes beyond his strained breathing is the rapid thudding of his family's feet against the dirt. He scans the sky above, repeating to himself that it only passes overhead once every twenty minutes. With his son in his arms, his legs grow weak, but he presses on, as fast as his body can take him. The entire family obsessively keeps their eyes on the purple-orange afternoon sky, like field mice keeping watch for a bird of prey. They know that if they saw it, it would be far too late. They are in the direct path of the angel of death.
By Conor Ferring5 years ago in Fiction
The Great Land
I wake up with the worst pain in my lower back, as the sun shines down upon me through the glass ceiling of the metal home. I grab my bag and my machete and begin to travel east following signs towards Galveston. Sleeping in metal homes is always uncomfortable, but they keep me from interrupting a husk’s path at night. I don’t see them often which is why I choose to travel along highways. Despite overgrown foliage breaking through the concrete, highways are some of the only discernable landmarks still intact. Most towns have overgrown buildings covered in vines and flowers. Trees have broken through the pavement, and animals have found shelter in the old world’s homes.
By Josue Iglesia5 years ago in Fiction
CH01DoF
Once upon a time, there was a race of beings so brilliant, that they were able to develop miracles of science so great, that they could cross their world in minutes, double or even triple their natural lifespans, and even flee from the restraint of their planet's gravity well. Some how these savants were able to send some representatives of their race beyond the constraints of their sun as well. These same miraculous beings were so debased that they regularly murdered their own people, forced some of their young to starve to death, and had invented the most prosaic words to explain their actions, with things like "capitalism" or "manslaughter".
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
The Fate Of Humanity
"As within so without, as above so below.” "You say that every single time I ask. Why does our ship only have humans? The Zets have superhuman strength and don't require any food. The Thrussons can make themselves invisible which would be SUPER helpful on some of our missions and the Sah'aeth, hell they don't even need a spacesuit. They just breathe space." Aldrin exclaimed.
By H.C Harper5 years ago in Fiction
Target Harbour
Target Harbour was a known jumping-off point for several different solar systems where Alliance extradition-orders were not yet all they might have been. A crescent-shaped hunk of a far larger moon which exploded eons ago, its curved outer ridge was encrusted with low-rent temporary residences whose neon stained space. The towers of the taller hotels were interlinked by a monorail network, while within the great hollow of this rocky arc had collected purplish fluorescent gases which lay like the waters of a bay. Reflected upside-down in these seething depths, the gaudiness of advertisments and train-tracks and a million window-lights shone a longstanding invitation to the weary traveller whose recent deeds might preclude him from more reputable places to stay.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Back Garden
Overgrown twisted dominions and lurking supernatural forces had conspired to lend The Back Garden its curious nomenclature, which began life as a nickname that stuck. If some of that dread space-expanse’s mystique had faded after the vanquishing of its beldame Empress Ungus by The Four Heroes, it nevertheless afforded fearsome enough vistas for Zeldich and Grey Bag as they stepped down from the two flying jeeps which had carried them there. Progress in this place was on foot, along the tops of tendrils distorted to terrifying size which stretched tangled fingers through the black void between worlds and so bridged the spheres they ensnared. Though Grey Bag and Zeldich stood in interplanetary space they did not require oxygen-masks, for there was no cosmic vacuum in The Back Garden, just a universal moist stagnancy suggestive of cellars at midnight. This fusty fug teemed with nutrients and microbes on which thrived the gargantuan plants and the denizens that crawled and slithered among them.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Carmilla's Resolution
The conference chamber’s large circular table was ringed with seats for the humanoids, and ramps leading to elevated platforms for the jeeps. These were arranged in alternating sequence so that every member of the organization could address the forum from equal ground. Psiona launched the meeting with one last item recently gleaned from her cerebral cave.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
