Sci Fi
Echoes of Lost Hearts
‘So, this is it?’ He thought, before taking another glance at his companion. Despite the fact He had not actually said anything, she nodded. ‘Echoes…’ He would not give her the satisfaction of finishing the thought. They were certainly an odd enough pair of travelers to begin with, a scrap and an echo. He was covered head to toe in what many would call garbage, yet to him it was safety, comfort, home, and she was a wispy quasi-corporeal reflection of a former person. They had come a long way to get here, at least relatively speaking. His life was travel and getting to this ancient concrete skeleton that people once called home from the burnt-out crater she coalesced in was just another drop in the bucket.
By Hunter Mittelstaedt5 years ago in Fiction
Memory Dump
I hadn’t a name for several years now. In the same way my brother and I hadn’t a mother, or a real home, or anything but tattered rags on our backs. Or in the same way my brother and I hadn’t a ticket when we snuck aboard the train heading Federation West. I wasn’t sure what was waiting for us there, but it had to be better than the dusty plains and tumbleweeds of Federation East.
By Audrey Robey5 years ago in Fiction
Strays
“You left her behind?” Phoenix Prime’s question seemed to come as a surprise to Magnolia. The golden-haired girl, halfway through changing out of her damp swimming costume and putting her clothes back on, retorted: “We don’t need her anymore. And that whole hero-pretence thing was getting seriously old, am I right?”
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Clinging
I didn’t know her. I find it hard to fully remember her. But, I could feel her. The warmth of her skin on mine as she held me close, whispering her undying love for me. The smell of strawberries surrounded her. Her smile was so big I can recognize it in the mirror. I stare at my dark hair, emerald eyes, and pale skin as I begin to wonder what life was like before the Cling. Pop says I shouldn’t; that it will just make me hold on to something that is no longer there. As I clench the locket dangling from my neck, I forget his warnings and submerge myself in what-could-have-beens. I snap out of it at the sound of my fathers heavy footsteps. The closer they come, the less I hold the metal heart that encapsulates the only photo I have of her. As the door snaps open, I look at him in the mirror. He always looks both sad and happy at the same time. Ever since I was a child, his eyes have been cold, though his heart is undoubtedly warm.
By Mariah Johnson 5 years ago in Fiction
13
I sat looking out the window at the deep green trees. I had never thought trees to be beautiful, but after the ugly boring desert, trees were the most wonderful things I'd seen. We pulled off the highway at the something-teen gas station today looking for one that had anything left in the tank. The caravan pulled in one behind the other, and as soon as the RV stopped, I climbed out to stretch my legs. Ma and Pa were already out and directing traffic with their shotguns slung casually at their sides. Before I could take more than 5 steps from the RV, Ma stopped me.
By Leigh Wardle5 years ago in Fiction
Up With This I Will Not Put
April 3rd, 2042 When I woke up, it was purple. The day. It was a pale lavender dream. It reached out and touched me. I said yes. Enjoyed it for an instant. Then I said no. Could the rest of the day top it? If it didn't, my heart would break. I felt my heart break a little. Then stopped it. Then got up. Yada, yada, Yoda. I was at my desk. Or, rather, my focus was. My mind was. My body was still in the bed. There was a specific reason for this. I remembered it when the no came after the blissful instant. That was standing on a bridge between two worlds, life and death. Oh yes, it was a perfect reminder of the perfect present moment, just for you, impossible and infinite, a sparkle of golden dust in a sunbeam. When you're fast enough you can pinch it. That kind of speed involves perfect stillness. But enough! - there is a day here, my hands say; palms upturned imploring action, questioning me, flat on the bedspread, handcuffed at the wrists. Aha, I say. You two again. Well... well. You are not to blame. They say, 'You will pinch it squirt dead between your fingers.' And I might lick a little tiny taste. "Ah, you're away," said Luke, smiling from the kitchen wearing a towel. "Today's the day," he said, turning his back to prepare coffee at the stove. "We'll get out of this fix today, my angel," he said, as his towel fell off. It was classic him to pull out all the stops, and no small nod to his vanity in thinking I'd give up the goods so early in the game.
By Grace McHale5 years ago in Fiction
Muckmen
You don’t take your ticket to Red Meal that’s the first thing you gotta learn, stick with me kid I know all of it I’ll teach you that stuff. You don’t take your ticket to Red Meal no way that’s a sucker’s game kid just think about it huh? Just think about it for a minute are you thinking?
By Brandon Farrell5 years ago in Fiction
Eavesdropping
‘Should I wake a locksmith?’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said, pushing the praying mantis light closer in and trying hard not to rip anyone’s head off today. The heatwave was enough to get on anyone’s nerves, but right now, the chest cracked open on the slab had all her attention.
By Antonio Sa-Dantas5 years ago in Fiction
Bloody Sunday
Day 694: Do you even know where you’re going, Linora? The frail woman kept her gaze forward, ignoring the voice as her tired limbs carried her through the desolate streets marred with deep cracks full of vegetative growth reclaiming the asphalt. Slowly but surely, the world she’d grown to know in the aftermath of Bloody Sunday was disappearing too.
By Dutch_Haus5 years ago in Fiction
