Sci Fi
Never Stop Looking
The boy in the cage watched as the old man reached two grimy fingers into his mouth and pulled out a molar. It made a crunch as it left his jaw. The old man examined it for a moment, then tossed it into the dying fire. It landed with a hiss and set off a tiny shower of embers.
By Carlos Harrison5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket Cure
The Locket Cure It ended quietly. No bombs were detonated. There was not a world war. It ended quickly, quietly; much like a deadly assassin, coming for you while you sleep. The only ones left just got lucky. I was born a few years after it happened. I am only seventeen now, but I feel like an adult. I certainly have the body of an adult! My mother used to tell me how things were before the virus, “Cara, you would have driven the boy’s crazy with a body like that”! But that would not apply anymore. Noone wants to get close to anyone else for fear of catching the virus. It started out harmless, much like the flu. But it quickly mutated. It mutated and spread so fast the world just could not keep up. Before they knew what they were dealing with it had already killed about three billion people. Everyone panicked and stayed inside and used special masks, but it was not enough. My father said around a million people were dying every week. I can only imagine how scared my parents were then. They have been my teachers, my friends. The only human contact I have ever had.
By Chad Davis5 years ago in Fiction
Worth Holding
June 2nd I’m going to kill myself today. God, writing it down feels good. Weird, but good. I know I said I would wait until winter before giving up, but I can’t imagine waiting an entire summer here, pointlessly looking for the people I know to be long dead and gone. I used to hope they were alive, but not anymore. It feels like relief, knowing my mom and my sister Stella never had to crawl through hot garbage, looking for a place to hide after scaling the wrong side of Trash Mountain. They’ve never been spotted by a group of armed men, cackling and hollering with glee at the thought of a hunt. Hope used to be worth holding on to, but I’m past that now. If the people I love are alive, then they have left – like I should have last year – and then how would I ever find them again? No radios, no phones, no clue or breadcrumb trail for me to follow.
By Sarah Joseph-Alexandre5 years ago in Fiction
The Core
Her eyes lifted amidst the flurry of freezing air rushing around her gasping as she inhaled the bitter cold. The door above her slowly lifted and dozens of tubes disconnected from her arms and legs. She was locked inside of an old lab with dust covered monitors & equipment. The word ‘veto’ & the command to keep the heart shaped locket around her neck close to her sprang into her slowly waking memory. She reached for the locket, relieved as she felt the cold steel hanging loosely upon her chest.
By J.J. Walker5 years ago in Fiction
A New Day
A New Day For Maddy When we realised the Ark was slowly sinking, that there was a hole in the hull the size of a pinprick, the first thing I thought of was little baby with no name. Little baby, snotty nosed and crying all the time. How could we let the Ark sink without giving little baby a name? The floor of the Ark was more wet than damp and the polyester grey blankets that were stored in the hull were now useless and sopping.
By Natasha Seymour5 years ago in Fiction
LifePod 37
LifePod 37 As I stare into the vast expanse of the cafeteria, its dingy and decaying walls collapsing under the pressure of the centuries, I feel desperately alone. I feel it as my eyes sweep the hundred empty tables and lock onto the face of the Pods only other occupant. I hear the clinking echo of glass on metal as he sets his drink down, the sound interrupting the deafening stillness of this place. I can barely recall a time when this cafeteria was filled with conversation and laughter. As the years went by the conversations got quieter and quieter until it was just two voices.
By braden lohr5 years ago in Fiction
The Year 2050
As the dense smog that hung heavy over the city during the twilight hours began to dissipate with the incoming western wind, through her visor Diana could vaguely make out the giant poster over what seemed like it had once been a theatre of some sort. She’d only ever read about such places in books – places of “unsanctioned entertainment” (or at least that’s what authorities called them). Staring up at the building, that had once been a star attraction of London’s West End, she could see why it was no longer open. The main poster hanging directly over the entrance portrayed what seemed to be a little dark-haired girl, no older than 7 and below the image read “Les Mi….” There was a giant tear in the poster that rendered the rest of the letters ineligible but she’d read enough to know that this must have been a place where some sort of theatre reproduction of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables (which she’d read twice) was shown. She was part of a rebel colony that had defected from the government when the 3rd World War started in 2035 and as a rule of safety, members of these colonies or the “Freedom Front” as they called themselves, used a minimal amount of technology in their day to day lives. Tech meant the government could track you and if they could track you, you could be endangering the lives of everyone in the colony.
By Stephen Bhasera5 years ago in Fiction
