Young Adult
Red Origin
Grit poured out of the machine, churning through the hopper like the unsettled, bitter bones of ten billion murdered souls. The harvester crawled forward as the sky faded from dull orange to muted crimson, and finally settled into the darkness of night.
By Darren Eldredge5 years ago in Fiction
Ophelia & the Heart Shaped Locket
I dare not draw attention to the heart shaped locket I keep tightly wrapped around my ankle, tucked in my sock. It is the very item these roadblocks are designed to find. My heart is in my throat as the guards shuffle us all through one by one. They question with their cold eyes and hard hands. I can’t let the internal panic become visible. We’re so close. Freedom is in sight. I can’t blow this for us.
By Mattlock London5 years ago in Fiction
Lila's Unappealing Apocalyptic Adventures
I woke up in hell with no idea where I was or why I was. I have since decided that this was for the best. I suppose it is easier to accept a new life of damnation if you don’t remember anything better. If you can't recall whatever grievous sins you committed to deserve this reality.
By Alice Mace5 years ago in Fiction
Running Away
Two weeks. That’s how long Brooklyn had been hiding under her house. In a way the cramped space was comforting, she used to hide there when she was a kid. Her mother would have these “moods” as she called it, and Brooklyn would seek shelter under the house in the cold dirt. The bugs and spiders never bothered her; in fact, they would fascinate her. Even now, watching the spider crawl over her hand was calming, took her mind off the insanity going on out there or what she assumed was going on out there.
By Libby Black5 years ago in Fiction
The Red Door
I never meant to hurt anyone. I just wanted to know why the area was restricted. All my life there have been walls or fences and dark. The area beyond the fences was the restricted area. There were no visible lights in the restricted area. No one was allowed to go there. I never knew if they were trying to keep something out or keep something in. My father always said they were watching, but I was too young to understand who they were or why they would be watching. When I turned 12 years old, I remember a loud knock at the door and guards coming in to take me away that night. They said I was being put into quarantine. I didn’t understand why or what I did wrong. I couldn’t see my father while I was away. The time seemed to pass very slowly in quarantine.
By Sara Kovac5 years ago in Fiction
I am old
I am old now with my story coming to an end. I remember a time when flowers bloomed, and the days unfolded with birds and blue skies, but those days are gone now it is too hot to go outside. The birds have long burned, and the blue skies are hot with fire. The ones that survived have been through the height of trauma but the ones that remember are the ones doomed. Times are different people survive. I received my locket today. My fate is but days away.
By Page Neihoff5 years ago in Fiction
The Shadows
They came at night. They moved slowly and methodically, bringing a fog that blanketed the towns they pillaged. They worked silently, at one with the darkness of the night, slowly blanketing the towns in which they appeared in a mist of confusion and terror. It started with the disappearance of children, so few and far between that by the time their patterns were noticed and the disappearances were more frequent, it was too late. Even those that noticed the patterns were powerless to stop them, and it seemed to be pure luck that allowed you to escape their grasp. No one knew what became of those that were taken, as they disappeared without a trace. The Shadow People left nothing but desolation and despair in their wake. The “lucky” survivors became Castaways, constantly trying to evade detection, fearing what would happen if they too disappeared into the fog.
By Alexa Rose 5 years ago in Fiction
Applied Knowledge
My dad taught me how to hold my breath for 3 minutes. He also taught me how to climb trees, make a fort, a fire, collect rainwater, and hunt. When I was 12, he said it would be best to pretend to be a boy, so I'm not taken. He died shortly after that; he left me with an old lady that had a small cabin in the woods, her name was Fran. She talked a lot about how things used to be, she said she was married and had 4 kids, but they all died. She taught me how to farm and make mustard gas. I was only with her for about a year before poachers found the cabin; she sacrificed herself so I could escape. She gave me a picture of her family, so their memory lives on; she also gave me a heart-shaped locket for good luck. She said her mother survived the Holocaust with it. I'm not sure what that meant, but I took it and ran. One of the poachers must have spotted me because they chased me through the trees. I knew there was a small creek up ahead; I did what my dad taught me. I slowly got in the water so I wouldn't create too many ripples; I waited to see the men in the distance, took a deep breath, and slowly submerged myself.
By Avalon Crutcher5 years ago in Fiction
