Sci Fi
Remembrance
November 25, 2073 I stared at the lab results in disbelief. I was only 47, it was too soon. But the lab results didn’t lie and neither did the date of my appointment with the center. I tried to calm my breathing and still the tremors in my hands. How had it come to this?
By Brandy Portman5 years ago in Fiction
MANNA
Red, purple, and white stretched across the desert night sky like the strokes of a paintbrush dropped from a tired hand. Heavenly light flickered across the sand, mixing to form patches of pink and mauve, in parts illuminating a fossilized tree branch, sleeping lizard, or even the occasional glass boulder, transforming it into a crystal chandelier. Explosions created the boulders, and the more boulders around, the higher the danger, something Michel had mentioned when the boulders first appeared, just occasional glass pebbles to start, but then quickly becoming gleaming domes the size of shipping containers. Don’t be so damn neurotic, his brother had said. This was formerly the state of Kansas. Michel tried to envision cornfields and rolling green hills, but could not, and this alarmed him; sometimes he felt like desertification had entered his mind as well, reducing his once formidable intellect and imagination to formlessness—just a collection of particles linked only until the next gust came to fan them into new configurations. They had been moving by night across the desert, watching their footprints disappear behind them for seven days, and they were lost. They were hunting for baskets and trying not to be hunted themselves.
By Alex Politis5 years ago in Fiction
The New Roaring '20s
I’m telling you, you don’t understand how a desperate senator, reeling from the loss of his wife, can unite with other desperate senators and governors and leaders so that civilization is inextricably altered and all of a sudden your phone downloads a mandatory “safety” app that pings every time you get within 10 feet of another fucking human being. The pings increase in frequency every foot you draw closer, and once you pass that six foot mark, your phone blares an alarm that makes you miss the days of Amber Alerts.
By Serena Aguirre5 years ago in Fiction
"Unfathomable"
The world as she knew it, no longer existed, to think that four months ago she had a bank account and credit cards, she had her bedroom, in the only home she had ever known, she had been employed at a job of her choice, that had allowed her the opportunity to save money and schedule a vacation, there would be no vacation now...no sunset in Cabo! She wondered ...who was driving her car? Her car, which had provided her the freedom to commute to any place she so desired.
By Pamela Walsh-Holte5 years ago in Fiction
The Klaxons Sounded
Dad and Eddie built the shelter in June 2037. They worked all summer long, using blasting caps to blow a chunk out of the hillside behind our house. Dad borrowed excavators from work, clearing the rubble aside, piling it up to conceal the entrance.
By Angel Whelan5 years ago in Fiction
Those that wish us dead.
You would think that having an enormous sum of wealth and resources would keep you out of trouble despite the state in which the world sleeps. We all did… and for a while, it actually worked. Keeping the rebellion at bay while we designed our own safe havens, locked away from insurrectionists and those willing to betray humanity for a better taste of life that wasn’t exactly denied to them.
By Drew Perkins5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
She found it in a muddy ditch. The sun caught the metal and shined just enough for her to notice. She bent and retrieved her treasure. This world was no place for girls or women. She wore men's cloths with her breasts bound flat against her. Safer. She was a thief, and a good one at that.
By Diane Poole5 years ago in Fiction
Jack
Zoe crept through the rubble, picking her way through the maze of steel and concrete strewn across the landscape. She chose her steps with care, making sure to avoid planting her bare feet on the shards of glass that littered the ground. Trailing in her wake was a line of perfect imprints, marking her progress in the blanket of ashy powder covering the world.
By Brian Tanguay 5 years ago in Fiction
