literature
Science fiction's most popular literary writers from Isaac Asimov to Stephen King and Frank Herbert, and the rising stars of today.
HEROD
HEROD Pilot Background: [1 Year Now = 1 Second ] A technology war broke out around the world after a pandemic. The war ended with a bright light, ending most of humanity. What most of the survivors do not know is, that the light broke a barrier between technology and the spiritual realm. Refugees were blind sighted and forced under a one world martial law.
By Kiara Holmes5 years ago in Futurism
The Last Son of Eden
The last Child of Eden Ramon Bernard I'm so bored here in Eden, Father died long ago and mother soon after. I was alone for a long time. I was born here yet I know many things I shouldn’t. Math, Train, fireworks, Pasta, even ice cream. I know all about those things.
By Ramon Bernard5 years ago in Futurism
Never Gone
Funny thing about the Dixton was that once you caught it, you were branded like cattle. An odd, little blister would develop around your wrist like a bracelet immediately identifying you as infected. As horrifying as the Dixton was for its inevitable doom thrust upon its victims, it also gave some a strange sense of peace. The Dixton was a guaranteed death but you would have time and other than the fear it pierced you with, it offered no real physical symptoms or pain. Essentially, if you could accept your demise, your death could be as peaceful as possible. Accepting death was no one’s first inclination but as years passed, it became “all the rage”. I watched humanity’s religions change overnight to now peddle Dixton as “God’s answer to the pain of death”, I saw therapies for acceptance become something as common as going to the grocery store. After the initial shock and dismay of the first year of Dixton, I started to see humanity accept Dixton as somewhat of a relief. One of the most famous ways of coping with the Dixton was a place called Nevergone.
By Zachary Oser5 years ago in Futurism
One More Wish
After eating some canned peas, I got up and stretched. “Back to work.” Continuing my morning ritual of dabbing Wish on my tongue, I set out for the camp. The stimulant in my system added some pep in my step. Streets were jagged while buildings were either toppled or damaged. The camp entered my line of sight with wanderers walking the streets. I tightened my backpacks’ straps as I entered the crowd. Makeshift stalls dotted the vicinity but mostly around the gated pharmacy.
By Ruben Ramos5 years ago in Futurism
Capturing the wild ones
Well, I should introduce myself first. I am Galvinator, son of Huna and Shloan. I know each and every nook of this planet, that the wild-ones call Surya-the Home. The day I came out of my shell, literally, the first thing I was told was to stay as far away from the wild-ones. They stand on their two feet, and so they have no balance - if you feel them coming your way- run away, hide behind shadows. Their eyes are very weak, they cannot see like us in the dark. And the poor wild-ones can listen only from two minuscule skin-flaps on their head. And the most important point is that they make a lot of noise. Before I continue about my adventure with wild-ones, It is imperative that I introduce you to my friend- partner in all my mischiefs.
By Energyia Singh5 years ago in Futurism
The Enchantress
Winter sliced through the darkness like freezing blades. The beggar, fuelled by purpose, pulled the black cloak around her shivering body as she soldiered on through the woods. All around her, leaves and crimson petals swarmed in a wind that rattled the bare trees and ached her bones. The skin cracked around her knuckles as she felt her way through the dense night, walking slowly on freezing, bloody feet, her arm outstretched before her. Her frost-beaten hand met with a spiked bush that pricked and tore her fingers like vicious teeth. She retracted her bleeding arm and squinted into the blackness. Silver moonlight exhaled from behind heavy clouds illuminating a tree of blood-red roses. Captivated by the beautiful flowers, the beggar reached up and plucked the brightest, most voluptuous rose on the tree. She tucked it safely into her cloak and continued on her way.
By Michael Brennan5 years ago in Futurism
The Sea of Roses
The heavy mansion doors swung open and she stepped outside. How did this come to be? She thought silently as her amethyst eyes took in the ocean of her family’s patented roses, a fortune, laid out in front of her. The sight of which seemed more magical than usual.
By Tamara Loertscher5 years ago in Futurism
Enemy Territory
Enemy Territory: Where does it end? John W. Gilmore “I love to watch a sunset, Marriane,” I said. I turned. She wasn’t even watching, she was stooping down placing large, broken branches into the fire one at a time. “You don’t even notice these things anymore, do you?”
By Om Prakash John Gilmore5 years ago in Futurism
