Sci Fi

The Night That Never Ended
A year ago, today, marks the beginning of the end. I remember being awakened by a thunderous crash, something I’ve never heard before. A military helicopter had crashed down into a fiery explosion on the street below, right outside my bedroom window. My apartment building shook to the core like an earthquake. I remember my heart pounding in my chest, my ears ringing from the blast. It took me a few minutes to fully grasp the level of danger I was in. I immediately jumped out of bed and crawled towards the window to see what had happened. That damned window, it was like looking into a picture frame of hell on earth. I stood up to a crouched position just below the windowsill and looked out into the blaze trying to make sense of what just happened. At first, I couldn’t see them, but I could hear their crafts hovering above. Next thing I know the air force had arrived in the city. As jets blasted by overhead, I looked up and saw them for the first time. An unknown alien force with unparalleled technology and weaponry the world has never seen. It was in that very moment, I knew, the end of days had begun.
By Alex F5 years ago in Fiction
There will be no regrets.
I’ve told her to put on her best clothes on account of the special occasion. Just four days ago mother died, now this; it’s an important week for the family. Trying to explain the nature of the event proved too confusing for her brother when his time came, so we didn’t bother much this time around. It’s not the processing capabilities of a five year old’s mind that I have little faith in—if anything, we keep finding our young to be fit to undergo the procedure at earlier and earlier ages—, but rather the biological condition that is to be emotional. Case in point, even if an attempt had been made to explain to her the milestone she’s about to go through, she could not stop crying long enough to hear it. She misses her grandmother so much, she says, yet it’s only been four days since her passing. How silly.
By Cesar Perez5 years ago in Fiction
Dear Diary, I Lied
“Dear Diary,” That’s how I always started my writings in my beat up old notebook… I don’t know why, nostalgia, I guess. Maybe I just wanted to be like a “normal” teenager from back in the day. Back when you went to the store to buy things, instead of to scavenge, and hope the items you needed hadn’t already been pillaged or destroyed. Back when cars where for driving and showing off, not for dodging behind and using for cover. Back when… yeah, back in the day. It really hadn’t been that long ago, six months, maybe a little less. How quickly the city had become mayhem. I remembered it like it was a million year ago, like a lifetime ago. The EMP, electromagnetic pulse, that had knocked out communication systems, then the air strikes that had taken out the power grids. There were rumors of country places that were still living like normal, that faraway from the cities life went on like it had before. That other countries had power, and phones, and television. There was no way to confirm that, though, so we scavenged what we could, fought others off, and survived. Waiting for confirmation that we weren’t the last people on earth. No one in our crowd knew what had caused the EMP or the airstrikes. Dillion thought it was aliens, Cassy said it was the Russians (her words: “it’s always the damn Russians.”). Eddie said it was our own government, showing other cities around the country what would happen if they tried to rebel (“…how else do you explain the fact that there’s no help coming from anywhere?”). I thought it was miserable. I thought it was Hell, and I didn’t care where it came from, I just wanted out.
By Sarah Lockwood5 years ago in Fiction
Chasing the Light
Blinding white light. An earth-shattering roar. Then nothingness. When the nuclear bombs were detonated across the globe, they wiped out the weak and solidified the strong as the trailblazers of the First Universal Order. Social Darwinism may have originated with the Old Kind, but here it was at its finest. FUOs (shorthand for the government officials) waited within the vicinity of every explosion across the globe, ready to sift through the rubble to find survivors. When survivors were found, FUOs swiftly implanted microchips into their brains while they were still unconscious. These microchips allow the First Universal Order to control everything that the survivors do and think, eliminating their free will and thus any possibility of recovering the life they once lived.
By Lauren King5 years ago in Fiction
NOAH
There are only five families left on the planet, supposedly. At least, five made it to the summits before the radios were washed away along with everything else. And they aren't technically families. Most of them are ragtag groups of random survivors, but they may as well be families now. We are the survivors of the greatest disaster in human history. It was referred to as NOAH when it started because at first, it seemed like a flood. Water began washing away every city and every great civilization that had ever been built by man.
By Brianna Maria Lemarier5 years ago in Fiction
IT'S SO LOUD
Voice #1: Thank you for cooperating with us today, I know this is hard. Why don’t you start by telling me what you can remember?
By Dylan Winship5 years ago in Fiction
Marie Byrd Land
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. So I don't scream at the night sky, though the heat chokes my throat, and the dark red and purple of its permanent smog covering drowns me in a boiling sludge of humidity.
By Steve Hanson5 years ago in Fiction
Downsizing
“Attention, Valued Synergy Partners. Due to budget concerns, the Corporation will be Downsizing tomorrow.” The android voice was cold in Belle’s ear-chip as she sat at her grey polycarbonate desk. “Please be aware that personal productivity should not be affected by this announcement. The Organizer will expect a full report if personal productivity falls below ninety-seven percent.”
By Maureen McCracken 5 years ago in Fiction
Bug Chaser
“Come on. come on. Janus” My classics professor, Dr. Fuggati, still has his tie on, but his pants are at his feet. His legs are slick and glistening, splayed open on the desk, like a sow hanging on a hook. He’s got a salt and pepper mustache, and olive skin that clutches his hips like cling wrap when he hugs his knees. He grips the desk till his knuckles gasp blue, and I am having trouble staying focused. He shakes impatiently
By Jackson Neal5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Colony
The day the government bailed out the auto industry, I was just a child napping in the backseat of my mother’s beat up sedan. With the fresh air passing through the open roof and the sun shining down on my eyelids, I was at peace. I remember hearing the passing hum of a bumble bee who nestled upon my hair and rested his wings for his midday flight. Sometimes I still dream about that moment, and I like to think back on it as a premonition. But when I do not dream, I exist in the darkness and wake up covered in the ashes and sand fluttering around after another passing sunset.
By Nelson Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
When Pigs Fly
When all you've got is nothing, there's a lot to go around. That's what Van always said. Nina never understood what she meant.
By Jonathan Costa5 years ago in Fiction
The Sponge
Simone breathed deeply trying to see through the thick air. Two years have passed since she saw a blue sky. The orangish hue that coated the Earth was affecting life as she knew it. The Sponge, as it is now called, was killing most of life that was around before the skies clouded over. Simone was struggling to remember what the world was like in those days, not too long ago.
By SheRockScience5 years ago in Fiction