Short Story
Last Vestige
An overcast of dark clouds stretched over an open road with nothing but barren wastelands filled only with wreckage and ruin on either side of it as the diffused light of the sun gradually began to rise over the horizon. The air was already warming up as it gusted over the dusty badland, and as the light grew brighter through the haze and the overcast, a cloaked figure could be seen walking from the horizon, his parka worn and tattered as it flapped and flickered in the wind. He had been walking for what seemed like an eternity with a distant promise being the only thing keeping him going. With the shrouded light of the sunrise bringing about another despondent dawn, this lone wanderer pulled back his hood, revealing a worn, unshaven face with terracotta skin and eyes half-dead topped with a scalp filled with long, thick, dusty, grey dreadlocks that covered his ears and the back of his neck. He stopped in the middle of the road, only having been able to get a few hours of sleep at best due to the constant threat of attacks from other scavengers and wanderers of this world. He began to take in the bleak but ever-growing light as he took a deep breath. He reached into his pocket with a weathered, fingerless glove wrapped around his hand and pulled out a chain with a small, heart-shaped locket on it. His hands jittered slightly as he clicked the tiny latch out and opened it to reveal the vibrant image of a lovely woman in white surrounded by chrysanthemums. She had a meek smile on her face, a pleasant but quiet demeanor, and a warmth that managed to brighten even the bleakest of days, even if only a little. His tired eyes gazed upon her image just as he did every morning, like a silent prayer, a routine that kept his mind rooted and firm to his task. He took in another deep breath, emboldening himself before closing the locket once more and lovingly pushing it deep into his pocket where it was safe and sound, where She was safe and sound. “Just keep going,” he whispered to himself as he looked toward the western horizon. With that, he took yet another first step down a long and lonely road. Another leg of the trek was about to begin.
By Ashrael Skyfire5 years ago in Fiction
HEARTCODE
As Alyssa woke up early in the morning, the sun gleaming in her eyes through the living room window, she still feels the pounding headache that she went to bed with on arriving at her mother’s best friend’s home who lived ten blocks away from her neighborhood. Alyssa was hopeful to find her mother’s childhood friend Gail. She was praying she was alive along with her best friend Gina but there were no signs of them and both cars are gone from their driveway. That may be a good sign which means there’s a chance they are alive but where could they be. Grateful that she was at her friend’s home and had a place to sleep, she wishes she could stay here and continue to rest, but Alyssa needed to find her mom and dad. She had 50 miles to walk to the hospital.
By Cecilia Mercado5 years ago in Fiction
The Awakening
Independence Day, War of the Worlds, Roswell, popular culture is full of stories about insect or lizard-like aliens descending upon the planet with the sole purpose of eliminating all life on the planet. So focused is our lore of little green men, we never imagined the threat would come, not from a looming spaceship, but from a species not unlike our own.
By Christine Immel5 years ago in Fiction
Loyal beyond Death
It became clear to me one afternoon that I am not as clever or worldly minded as I once thought that I was. I had long thought that I, as a member of the many whose childhoods had been spent among the poor and impoverished masses, must have been an expert on many important topics. The most important of these topics was the subject of loyalty.
By William King5 years ago in Fiction
Hush Little Baby
The sky is black. One day, I hope you won't believe it, like I didn't believe my mother when she told me about life before the internet (I never understood what they did for fun without it… now I understand all too well). You know, I was born in the midst of a global pandemic? Now my baby is being born during “the end of the world.” Yes, that's what they call it, even though we are still here, struggling, surviving. They say those born during trying times are meant for great things, I can only hope that is true. For both of our sakes. The sky is black and I don't know if we can fix it, but I know I'll try my best for you.
By Brenna Baker5 years ago in Fiction
Some Other Beginning's End
There was still hope inside the hearts of the man and the woman. They escaped months ago and managed to hide but still feared being forced back into what remained of their society. Governments all over the world collapsed years ago and any hope of reestablishing a civilized life was something of folklore. The first few days of freedom were gripped with terror and uncertainty. Both knew they would never go back. They knew that death was more comforting than the torturous existence from which they had escaped.
By Carrie Peterson5 years ago in Fiction
What Kept Me Going
'Keep.... Going.... You have to keep going!' My mother’s voice ringing in my ears, as each step gets heavier and heavier. My arms and legs feel like lead, swinging automatically from their respective sockets. My chest burns with the intensity of a rocket fuel fire, but I cannot stop now. It has been one year, three months, and eleven days since my mother and I separated near the border.
By Lady Paris Dodson5 years ago in Fiction
Counterfeit Family
I asked her if she was joking. Her frown told me she wasn’t. “Every last penny, gone” she said, “And that’s not the worst of it,” she continued, leaning across the table, “he took the documents too.” The news took me by surprise, “What? We need those!” She looked at me, irritated, “You think I don’t know that? Ever since mom gave me those files, I’ve been diligent to keep them hidden where only I know,” She relaxed a bit, “I just don’t know how he did it; I mean, mom always said Uncle Harvey is a clever and sneaky man, so I was extra conscientious whenever he came around.” I sat across from her, sad and disappointed. “Ash, we’ve been over this: he’s not our real uncle, especially now since he cleaned us out.” She looked into the distance for a beat, then sighed, “You’re technically right, but not in the way you think,” I looked at her more confused than before as she continued, “You want to know why he drained the account? Payback. He was playing the long game for you being born. Unc- Harvey never wanted kids, so this was his way of getting back at our family.” I sat looking at her, dumbfounded, “Alright, sis, what’re you getting at here?” She drew in a deep breath and finally looked me in the eye, “You and I are only half-siblings.”
By Missy Roberts5 years ago in Fiction
