science fiction
The bridge between imagination and technological advancement, where the dreamer’s vision predicts change, and foreshadows a futuristic reality. Science fiction has the ability to become “science reality”.
The Heart Always Knows
"Aren't you excited?" I gaze at my eleven-year-old sister and wonder why I feel such a sinking sensation inside. It's her Heart Day, the day she officially becomes an adult, one of us. One of everyone. Marie is skipping around the living room, dressed in pink, her face flushed with happiness like every other child who will be receiving their heart-shaped locket at the Heart Ceremony this afternoon. The last day of childhood. The last day of freedom.
By Kate Hewitt5 years ago in Futurism
After The Ending
The wind was bitterly cold. Repairing the damage inflicted by Mother Nature seemed a never-ending task. The building material used to construct the tiny shack was just not designed to last this long. There was only so much tape left in the pitiful utility box Kitty kept tucked under her bed. If you could call the rusted-out cot she was balancing on a bed. Every night she went to sleep Kitty feared it would disintegrate from under her. Sleep was hard to come by these days anyway. She etched a mark beside the others already visible on the hard ground.
By Kristie Rabbitt5 years ago in Futurism
"The lights in the sky, are stars."
The wind howls through the great wastes that once were something, but now are simply wide expanding deserts. Flatlands dried by sun and scarred by craters. It was a lonely place, Kid thought, the wind had told him that all his life. But every now and then, when he would stop for sandstorms or just to rest, hidden away in a crag or a cave on a side of a barren mountain, he would look up. Colors that weren't dead and dried, had painted the sky. The Milky way. It had lived up to its name at times like these. “The lights,.” He would whisper to himself, as his eyes all but sank into the ever expanding heavens.
By Typheus Wolf5 years ago in Futurism
The Brazen Bull
He powered up the bathtub and thought about where he had been for the last forty-eight hours. Today had been his first day back at work after a two week vacation. Even though it had only been six months since his last accumulated time off, He felt like they’d called him back to work too early. The tub began preparing a typical end of day wash, rinse and steam. He considered a vigorous eucalyptus infusion but he didn't feel like trying to force himself into a mood. He wanted to dwell and Cedar felt right for that. Half mindedly he made his other selections and as the water began rising through the perforated floor, He started removing his clothes and tried to settle on what he was going to think about.
By Owen Beach5 years ago in Futurism
The Final Dreamer
There are many things I dream of when the stars kiss the night sky, and I listen softly to murmurs in the foregone and yet to be conceived visions which eclipse my mind as it begins to wander futher. It seems always strange to me, the dream from which I awake every evening when I set unto the astral landscapes, and to which I return reluctantly every morn. No lesser beauty exists here than the most vivid of which I have dreamed, and yet still some quality eludes me, some faculty of perception which lends to my memories of those other places a kind of urgent, augmented, ethereal mysteriousness. Truly, it were as though the spaces through which I travel in those times are somehow impulsed by the sensibilities of the trickster or the magician, the laughing, coalescent spiral of an attenuated sort of reason, a meaning or purpose or punchline to some grand piece of humor.
By Tanner Ulrich5 years ago in Futurism
The Family Locket
“ I don’t know what you’re saying...What? Mom! Dad!” I punch and scream. Kicking at a translucent wall. They’re so calm. Pointing and mouthing words to me but I can’t hear them. “I need you! Please! I’m scared!” It all goes black. I don’t see them. I hear screams. Now I’m shaking crying under a tree. It feels so real. I feel so alone. I’m so cold my teeth chatter myself awake. Awake. Damn! I pinch myself. Hard. Yup, still here. Hell on Earth. Huffing and puffing I shove my pillow over my face to block the sun peeking through the window. I stretch and squirm both preparing for the day, as well as dreading my feet hitting the floor. It’s hard to do, but maybe if I squint my eyes hard enough I can fall back into it. I Used to be able to do that. Fall back into a dream. Sad the only thing I look forward to anymore is sleep. Even if it’s a nightmare. I’ve always been a furvent dreamer. Lately they feel more and more real.
By Stephanie Delgado5 years ago in Futurism
