Mystery
The Seeds Of Desolation
Isn't it ironic that the human eye can be blinded by both light and darkness. The brightest beam of lights can leave us seeing nothing but white while the darkest night leaves us submerged in black. The day that ignited rampant rampage upon the Earth, was a day starting the topple of humanity's dominos. The day the beams began. The day an event took place causing an uproar in human life.
By Ebony Burns5 years ago in Fiction
Darwinism
The dark, dreary clouds that overcast the sky transfigured into fluffy lumps resembling scoops of vanilla ice cream. The smell of death, despair, and destruction faded into that of lavender, laughter, and love. A sun once destined to extinction now radiated beams that cracked through clouds. This unbelievably rapid metamorphosis took a century. The human race forgot about the plague that almost wiped them out. Everything became perfect in this utopian world.
By Mojisola Akinwande5 years ago in Fiction
The Sunken City
The few who survived the flash sauntered along the barren road in a bleary daze. Exhausted and stupefied, a band of ragged and disheveled youths dragged their footsteps along against the blazing heat. The pack was led by a boy of sixteen. Behind him trudged ten, six boys and four girls, all younger and (more unsure of themselves). It was Luke’s naturally assertive and commanding demeanor that convinced the reluctant children to depart from the ruined town in search of other survivors. The troop of kids were playing within an old bunker when death swept across the land and decimated everything within its path. When the deafening crash thundered across the sky, the children hurried up the ladder, and in vain, pushed against the hatch. The howling wind of a thousand gales pressurized against the vault and trapped the children for four days. When the wind ceased, it was immediately noticeable; it was as if someone were clapping cymbals in their ears without pause for days on end and suddenly relented. In fact, the abrupt quietude filled the air almost as quickly as did the howling, and from their restless sleep did the children awaken and anxiously scramble up the ladder. The open air was clogged with a thick layer of sand and sent the children immediately into fits of coughing. The wind, although distinctly calmer, still blew turbulently. The sky was a terrible haze of deep orange and sanguine streaks, and against the dust, the sun struggled to pierce through. Fine sand particles moving through the turbulent gusts of air scratched at the children’s exposed eyes and effectively blinded them, sending the investigation party back beneath the ground.The sand-beaten children sat rubbing at their irritated eyes, while those who had remained underground waited impatiently for a report.
By Jonah Blue Krell5 years ago in Fiction
Reset
“What? Where am I?” I mouth to myself as I’m standing in front of a mirror holding a bloodied bat in one hand and a reindeer mask in the other. Why is my heart racing? Why am I sore all over? What the hell just happened? I lean closer to the mirror to get a better look at my reflection. Even without a good source of light I can see that my face is bruised. The top of my head appears to be bleeding. “Is this my blood?” I wonder. My polo shirt is ripped at the collar seemingly from being pulled on. I feel I have just gotten into a fight... but with who? Where is the other person? My nerves are exhausted, I can feel my body has been panicking for longer than I remember. The muscles on my body are so tightly clenched, I can barely take a breath without shivering. Unless I find out what’s going on I’m not sure this will stop. I reach for my pocket and pull out a remote and a heart locket. I fidget with the remote for a bit but it doesn’t seem to respond with anything so I set it down. The locket is pretty plain and has a picture of a man and who I would guess is his daughter. “Why do I have this?”
By Evan Hernandez5 years ago in Fiction
Steps
"Six-thousand eighty-three... Six-thousand eighty-four... Six-thousand eighty five..." The pavement had long lost all feeling for Edward's feet. At some point the thought had occurred to him that he used to be concerned with what shoes he was wearing, but even that seemed like ages ago now. The highway was a straight shot south and had no visible twists or turns as far as he could see. He found that counting his steps made time pass with much less effort, and at any rate most of his thoughts had dried up some time ago. Fields of wheat swayed in the breeze around him.
By Ian Coleman5 years ago in Fiction
May She Always Reign
They struck the death blow at dawn. Always dawn. First, warning signs -- smaller attacks, traps, isolated kills. Scouts would return, shaken, with stories of intruders threatening our hunting ground. As summer wore on, fewer and fewer would return at all. Then, attacks at home -- the enemy would threaten the colony directly, once they found us. Their children would throw rocks at our walls, emboldened by their long-time military superiority. We tried desperately to defend our home, but attacking the young only brought our ruin faster and harsher. Eventually we gave up, fleeing even the smallest of them on sight. We knew we were no match for their warriors, and they always defended their young, no matter who made the first strike.
By Amelia Grace Newell5 years ago in Fiction
The Caves
I don’t know what happened first, opening my eyes or not being able to catch my breath. My head swivels around and I can’t see much. There’s a sliver of light that creeps through the roof of the small, enclosed space around me. It’s a...pod. I try to move my arms to feel for a latch or handle to get out but I can’t lift them. My heart beats so fast I think it’s going to thump out of my chest. I slightly lift my right hand to feel--there’s a heart shaped locket in my hand. It’s warm and clammy, rusted now.. My hands are trembling so bad I can’t open it. I feel so weak. I can’t. I give up. All I notice now is the subtle, warmed metallic smell from the old locket that fills the pod. How long have I been in here? As my mind draws a blank I hear a thud that sounds far off but is close enough to make the pod vibrate. I imagine this is what small earthquakes feel like. The sound is followed by smaller thuds and screeching. The screeching gets closer and closer. It’s so close now I hold my breath in anticipation of what comes next. Something hits the metal on the outside of the pod and drags, making a squeaking noise. The sliver of light disappears for a few seconds. Once the thing being dragged across it passes it leaves a film, diluting the light. The thuds and screeching continue for a few more minutes and die off into the distance. Finally allowing me to have a moment of calm.
By Magdalen Davidson5 years ago in Fiction
Beyond the Grave
Year 2023 Somewhere in the desert of Southern California (Faint sounds of Bullets and explosions in the background) When I was a little girl, I would constantly eves-drop on conversations my parents were having, late at night after they thought we had gone to bed or were out of earshot, I would hear my dad talking about the end of the world- he was notoriously falling asleep in 'his chair' watching something on the History channel about Nostradamus or the apocalypse or some sort of 'doomsday' phenomenon. It used to drive my mother crazy.
By Shelly Modica 5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
The early morning light filtered in through the cracked bedroom window illuminating the dusty space. Rebecca knew darkness, so the scant light was no issue for her. Slipping out from under the oversized flannel she’d poached from some trendy vintage shop weeks before, Rebecca rose from the bed and padded towards the window. Outside the sky was a sharp sketch of pale yellow light against a dark grey skyline. The city had never looked this menacing, this stoic before; something about the lack of people made the city feel more like a morgue than the streets she was used to running. The city was empty. Rebecca knew that. When the lights went out and the world stopped, everyone ran. Panicked. Families fled their homes, looters ransacked shops and apartments, and violence surged. The pandemic had made people scared of going outside, of being a part of society, a reality that had made it harder for Rebecca to live the way she needed to. What good is being a pickpocket with no crowd to pick, or a con artist with no naïve tourist to scam? This was different though; the pandemic had made a hard life harder, but now, with the threat of death lurking in the eyes of every stranger, violence in every shadow, with everyone willing to do anything to survive, now Rebecca was scared.
By Elizabeth Waller5 years ago in Fiction
