Adventure
The Reset
Something was wrong. I had seen this street countless times, walked the same steps nearly every weekend; I remembered how I had avoided walking past the house with the chain link fence that looked moments from falling down. Something was off and it unsettled me. I struggled to ignore the anxiety that was rising in my chest, the pool of acid that had started to collect within my lungs was making every breath increasingly more difficult. The trees were taller, the street littered with piles of leaves and weeds pushing through the pavement. The world started to spin and I realised I was hyperventilating, my heaving chest making the ground beneath me rock. The chain-link fence had met its demise, some time ago judging by the garden that had now overtaken it. I wondered what had happened to the dog that used to live at the end of a chain behind that rusted wire. I started to get light headed as I realised - it was silent. Not the quiet of a casual afternoon but dead-quite. The dog was no longer there barking at all that went past, there was no movement. I stopped walking and tried to focus on my feet planted on the pavement, tried to think of the warmth of the sun on my skin and the breeze in my hair. I sucked in a deep breath and held it, willing my heart to find a slower rhythm, begging my lungs to expel the acrid effervescence with my breath. Settling into the closest I could get to calm I inhaled once more before lifting my head and opening the gate to house number 43.
By Obsidian Words5 years ago in Fiction
Neighbors
Jerome was slowly descending the side of what apparently was a mountain, or at least seemed that way. He had started this journey from his front porch about ten minutes ago. “Find something that shows the power of nature, and take a picture of it.” Mr. Smith, his science teacher, had given out the assignment as they were leaving yesterday.
By Josh Mallernee5 years ago in Fiction
Neighbors
It seemed like days had passed, but it was beginning to get late in the afternoon and they had been talking for hours. Mr. Radke still hadn’t come home, and he knew that he was going to have to go home soon. He had no desire to leave, but he knew that he couldn’t stay forever. “I don’t know what to do. I really need this picture and he still hasn't come home yet.” She looked at him for a minute before replying, “Wait, what about my yard! Jumping up she took off running towards the fence. Matt continued to swing and had still not said a word. Jerome knew shy, but he had never seen someone so quiet before. He wondered momentarily if the child might have something wrong with him. “Over here!” The angelic voice of Misty came across the yard.
By Josh Mallernee5 years ago in Fiction
Wake TF Up?
It was that little shop off 33rd and Greenmount. I want to say shortly after the second oil outage. The one they thought was going to last forever, I guess. It was easy for those who poised themselves as Intellectuals to be the saviors of the world effectively making obsolete all religions. Only the Ignorant called what the Intellectuals did "punishment".
By Dan-O Vizzini5 years ago in Fiction
Call me Snipet
“Call Me Snips” – David Smith Call me Snips. Everybody does. Well, everybody who’s with me in the workbox that is, the needles, the bobbins, the pins – so many pins – all dear friends. Being from North Queensland, some of my friends call me Snippo, the jokers. My beautiful and creative owner doesn’t call me anything particularly, but she does treat me with love and care. She gets extremely upset if anyone, including her children, start using me to cut bits of cardboard and plastic and food containers. I’m only for cutting the finest fabrics, silks, lace. She does have a habit of putting me down, and then patting the tops of her thighs as she looks around the room muttering, “Now, where did I put them?”
By Ruth Groundwater5 years ago in Fiction
To My Beloved Daughter
A breeze swept through the irradiated trees of Boston as Bex and her Mr. Handy companion, Buttersworth, walked through what was once her old neighborhood. It was the year 2100, about 24 years after the Great War had started and ended, leaving the world in nuclear ruin. Bex's old childhood house was the only house in the neighborhood that was still mostly intact, the others having been incinerated or blown apart when the shockwave from the first nuclear bomb that hit Boston came rushing in-just in time.
By Winnie Yong5 years ago in Fiction
The story behind television
Television is the device that brings an incident to our eyes instantly when it happens in any corner of the world. Television has the glory and splendor to show realistically and without exaggeration. Can you hear the voice in a box when it got to the radio world in 1922 ?!The astonished world would never have imagined that in the next four years they would hear a voice in a box and see images. But the inventors also make inventions. We are going to get to know someone who dreamed of showing sound and light in a box and brought to the world the noble device of television. His name is John Logie Baird. If Marconi is the father of radio then Baird is the father of television.John Loki Bird was born on 13 August 1888 in Helensburg, near Glasgow, Scotland. He is the youngest of four children. His father was a priest who managed a large family on a low income. Byrd had been in poor health since childhood. That's why something is playing for him Not too keen on entertainment. Byrd attended elementary school near his home. Bird has had a keen interest in photography since childhood. Many affiliates were taught in English schools at the time One of them was the Photography Bird who became more interested in it and also served as the Student President of the Photography Society. To lend a hand, Bird experimented with pictures and moving scenes with some friends at the age of twelve.At the age of 17 he joined the Royal Institute of Technology in London and graduated with a degree in Electrical Economics. He later graduated from the University of Glasgow. While studying at university, Byrd believed that selenium cells could convert light into electrical signals, so he studied at home because he could not do research at the university.He always believed that he could transmit light and even talking pictures through electricity. After graduation he joined a company as an assistant engineer. At the age of 26, he got a job in an electronics factory. Unsatisfied with all of that, Byrd started his own business producing pants instead.But he did not make much profit from it and then got down to making jam and sauce to rub on bread. Due to ill health, he had to give up the profession.Byrd sailed to see his friend in Trinidad at the time. He then befriended the ship's radio operator. The two discussed and shared a lot of ideas about how to transmit images from one place to another, just like radio broadcasts. Byrd returned to London in 1922 at the age of 34 .Although he was living in poverty due to unemployment, his dream of television did not leave him alone. He created a blueprint for the operation of a television set and did a variety of research on cardboard, electric motors, projection lamps, electric cells, neon lights, and radio valves.The year 1924 seemed to pay off for the two years of hard work he had put in. He was able to cast the shadow of a cross ten meters away. He did not have the financial means to continue his research and was in fact forced to sell and eat parts of his research equipment.Still not discouraged Bird. He was trying to somehow bring the human face and the moving scene into a box. He advertised in newspapers asking for help because he had no money for research. With the help of it, he started directing the first model of television the following year. Byrd went uphill to see the whole picture accurately on screen without any flaws.That day, October 2, 1925, was the day television came to the world. Within the next four years he also studied color television and successfully developed it. In 1929 he started a black and white television service for the British Broadcasting Corporation. It is a little difficult to imagine a world without television today. But until 85 years ago it was just a fantasy. That fantasy came true because John Loki Bird tried. The pioneer who helped bring the world into our living room passed away on June 14, 1946 at the age of 58.
By Zarinabanu Zarinabanu5 years ago in Fiction
The Waterfall. Runner-Up in Reset Your Password Challenge.
“Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to this week’s broadcast of Keeping the Peas. I’m Paul and this is Phyllis.” “Thanks, Paul,” Phyliss said. They occupied one of the radio studios of CHMR at Memorial University of Newfoundland. “You know, I’m proud of Keeping the Peas. We’re all about voices, both worldwide and right here in Newfoundland and Labrador."
By Matthew Daniels5 years ago in Fiction
Hellfire and Kindness
My world is one of black and white. Of good and evil. My world is after mankind's destruction. Sobs and hysteria echo about the empty valleys and cities now where there was once endless noise, a mixture of good and bad and anywhere in between. Laughter is rarely heard and when it is, it is looked down upon with terror as if the very idea or thought, or sound of joy might bring more devastation to the surface of our world.
By Hope Martin8 years ago in Fiction
