Adam Diehl
Stories (20/0)
Man No More
Pain. Unimaginable pain. Only for an instant and then, nothing. I'm strapped to something. A bed. I remember now. An operation. I look down at my hand. It's mostly metal, with something trying to pass for flesh over it. I remember now. They wanted a weapon they could control. A lapdog.
By Adam Diehlabout a year ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in Under Purple Clouds Challenge
Always OnRunner-Up in Under Purple Clouds Challenge
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. I've seen that sight so often now, that it no longer attracts even the slightest glance, let alone inspires the awe it once did. In the Country that never sleeps, the grind is the only thing that matters.
By Adam Diehlabout a year ago in Fiction
Dragon's Hunt
*Sniff, Sniff* I can smell her. She thinks she’s safe—thinks I won’t be able to, over all the other myriad odors flooding my nostrils in the deep wood, smell the lilacs she likes to wear in her hair or the powder that’s used on her linens. She won’t understand how wrong she is until it’s far too late. By then, she’ll already be in my clutches.
By Adam Diehl2 years ago in Fiction
Not Without Incident
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Which is true. In fact, you can't really hear dick-all in space. Not only due to the vacuum part but also because there isn't anything to make any noise. It's quiet as shit out here. Pardon my language, but I've been out here a long time, floating aimlessly by myself, and it's starting to wear on me. It's not supposed to be aimless, of course, and maybe the lads who shot me out here actually do have a trajectory programmed into this supersized CT scanner, but it feels aimless. I mean, there's no up or down or left or right in space, right? It's just...space, empty bloody space, and my official review of space so far is that it's rubbish.
By Adam Diehl2 years ago in Fiction
The Rememberance
He was an old man, even by the reckoning of his own people, and by any reckoning, they were long lived. Little now, did he remember of his people—only faded memories of glories past both in triumph and defeat that scoured the edges of his subconscious, desperately searching for the slightest crack through which to emerge, once more, into the light. In memories that were as old as his, there was nothing to be found but heartache—a great yearning for things that were so long gone they might as well never have existed. That’s how he counted his age these days. Not in years, but in the layers of sediment that had accumulated atop the fossils of his memories.
By Adam Diehl3 years ago in Fiction