Short Story
Remembrance
An extraordinary crimson sunrise illuminated the forests south of what used to be Portland, Oregon, high in the Cascade Mountain range. The light crept through the blinds of the second-floor window of a young woman whose eyes fluttered awake at the touch of the morning sun. Rolling to her side, she sighed before pushing herself up to face the day, her sixteenth birthday. Her room was plain with white walls, a sturdy oak door, a vanity from before the collapse, and her bed, another relic of the recent past. The only real point of interest was the window that she marveled at every morning. Pulling up the blinds revealed the sprawling forested mountains that the cabin nestled itself in with. A large garden sat between the house and the edge of the forest ripe with the spoils of fall.
By Zach Sanford5 years ago in Fiction
Doggone
Entry 1 A dog barked. I crossed the rooftop in its direction, stepping over detritus that stirred lightly in the breeze and walking in a diagonal so I could look down different streets until I found the animal among the piles of refuse and corpses that lined the street. The bullets in my pocket clinked against each other as I lifted the sniper rifle, keeping my head as low as I could, and peered through the scope.
By Sarah Shea5 years ago in Fiction
New Beginnings
Looking down at the almost pristine cityscape. To him, the view evoked both triumph and despair, the first because of what was and the second for what was no longer. If you squinted, it was like it had never happened. All the lines were crisp and the missing windows. Well, they were just the clever design of architects putting personality into their creation.
By Alex Kozlowski5 years ago in Fiction
Dymphna
Dymphna always knew that this day would come. Mam had prepared her for it as long as she could remember. One day, the soldiers would come and Mam would be taken away. Dymphna had now lived ten winters. Ten years of hiding. Ten years of sleeping in the same bed as Mam so that a warm bed would not give her away. Ten years of eating from the same plate lest the soldiers come and find two dirty plates.
By margie dahl5 years ago in Fiction
Hypocalypse
The bell’s tolling was supposed to usher in the apocalypse. At least, that’s what they’d decided. The statue at the top of the hill loomed high over the ground, in clear sight for miles. It did nothing but watch over the land, but many thought it to bring prosperity to the world. The soil all over was rich and crops grew in abundance. Water was plentiful and lush green covered everything in grass and forests.
By Bree Frankel5 years ago in Fiction
Community
Anna shot up out of bed. Another rapid banging followed the first. Looking at her clock, dread washed over her. Not again. She thought it was over. It had to be over. She forced herself to close her eyes and try to ignore the rasping coming from the far window of her tiny bedroom. Suddenly, the knocking increased in both speed and loudness; then it stopped. Seconds later, Anna heard a new sound within the quiet night. One far more startling than knocking. She lied perfectly still as the screech of the old window severed the silence of the night.
By Kenzie Bishop5 years ago in Fiction
Life After
I ran, heart pounding in my ears and stolen goods in hand, away from what would have been described as justice by some and barbaric by others. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If there is one tribe you do not steal from it's the Gut-Slingers. As the name implies they are one of the few cannibalistic tribes in the area and because everyone is so afraid of them they always have the best things. I can hear them whooping and whistling behind me, leaves being torn from trees and torches like fireflies dancing through the branches. I make a left cutting through a bramble bush, feeling its sharp teeth rip at my hair, face, and arms, but I just keep running. Better to be cut than eaten.
By Skyler Callahan5 years ago in Fiction
Detachment
When I dropped the baby into the toxic river, I felt a small twinge inside my chest. It felt strange, like a stinging pinch that left me grasping my chest, but as quickly as it came it faded. It made me recall a story I heard about from granny who would tell elaborate stories of humans who had emotions. It was a story that was very dull but it left an impression on me, because that was the first time I had heard the word “sad.” And it took my brothers and I hours to try to understand what sad meant. Grandma said that it was a pain you felt in your chest, but we felt that all the time when the Pacis Ordo would inject us with vitamins. So were we sad then?
By Citlalic Zuniga5 years ago in Fiction
