Sci Fi
The Fish Bowl
I just wanted to make you proud, one last time if not the only time. I thought it’d a great honor to give my life for The Community, that it would atone for my sins and make my life mean something, but here at the draw all I feel is fear. I don’t want to die! I know it’s too late now to back out now, volunteered and chosen. The drink in my hand feels slippery as I raise the glass to my lips, the little beads of water that run down it’s side remind me of the tears I’ve been shedding for the past two weeks. These were supposed to be the best two weeks of my life. That’s supposed to be the tradition, but all I’ve gotten are the piteous stares of my neighbors, of the people I pass on the street as I play with the polished heart shaped locket that hangs around my neck, the symbol of my fate. How many before me have run their hands over the brass, the oil on their hands smoothing the metal, their fingers grabbing it for comfort, then rejecting it, reminded why it’s there? Was their time just as miserable as mine? Did they feel just as much of an outcast when they were chosen? I can feel death around the corner, standing in the shadows, waiting for me with open arms.
By Trapper Piatt5 years ago in Fiction
The Fourth Patriot
The man being held in the cell, for all the simplicity of his birth name, was known as three people. The first no longer existed because of the second, and the second took precedent, if need be, even in the presence of the most recent third. The state of being many people at once was an accepted one in the New Light Era, but all three were currently failing him.
By Nazli Sevinc5 years ago in Fiction
Old Dog
The giant chamber door lurched open with violent reluctance. First, the synchronized metallic KACHUNK-KACHUNK-KACHUNK of its three Duranium pillar bolts jarring from their housings in succession. Next, the hiss as pent up pressure races to escape through the widening gap around its edges. With a belabored push a thin band of blinding white light haloing the nine by nine foot tungsten behemoth's edges widens, eventually filling every visible inch of the disembark chamber.
By Oren Lomena5 years ago in Fiction
Good Morning Americopia
“Good morning John, it is time to insert your Eucharist chip. You have 12 charges remaining” The plastic yet pleasing voice of Sophia rang out, rattling about like a pinball in John’s slumbering skull, equal parts seductive and authoritarian--just how John liked it. But of course they knew that.
By John Kelle5 years ago in Fiction
The Ego Death of Egoimane
It was the year 4000 in the land of Egoimane. The sun had not shined there as the murky, gray clouds covered the sky and dimmed the entire city. The city was a dark place where the weather always seemed as if it was awaiting a storm. Although the storm never came, it left everyone tired and in a monotonous routine. No birds were singing to greet the morning. All the livestock had died off and left them with the grim remains of what used to be. The people hardly ever knew the difference between night and day or seasons for the matter. It smelled of filth and radioactive goo throughout the city. In the center were a wasteland and an unearthly scientific laboratory that polluted the air of harsh chemicals and disposed of toxic waste. As Cindy 543 went to grab her jumpsuit to prepare to accept her assignment for the day, she had a nostalgic feeling overcome her. She had remembered a dream from the night before while she was awake. She saw colors that were beautiful and vibrant. It was a community with parents and their children existing in bliss. They were singing and holding hands with each other. It had to be another world that was far away from this one. Music was forbidden in the land of Egoimane by its government. The higher-ups claimed that music was an evil sound that took over your mind. Cindy had always been afraid to hear such a thing. So, when she heard it in her dream, she was confused because it made her smile and feel safe. She wondered if this happened before and if it would happen again. What could such an encounter mean? Cindy began to think harder about what she saw. Before she could finish analyzing what she had experienced the previous night, she heard a knock at her door. The voice yelled, "OPEN UP!" Cindy rushed to open her door and quickly realized that it was her friend David333. She seemed frightened by the knock, which was unlike her. He laughed but then quickly noticed that something was bothering Cindy.
By The Most Out of Life5 years ago in Fiction
