Derrico Thomas
Bio
Just your average, run-of-the-mill, melanated storyteller, hoping to make new friends and become a fan of new writes. Im a disabled vet, husband(20 years), father, devastatingly handsome grandfather, and purveyor of chocolate chip cookies.
Stories (2/0)
The Absence of Us in 58 Seconds
No one can hear you in the vacuum of space. Or at least that’s what they say. Why someone would put that on a poster just before entering the last and final intergalactic transport before the disintegration of what we now call Earth Prime, I have absolutely no idea. And yet there it was. Sitting plain as day. On it, an orange spotted kitten hangs from a branch. It was a reprint of the ‘hang in there’ meme of the early twentieth century. After nearly a hundred years of living among us, they still can’t grasp a decent punchline. We boarded the final transport shuttle to take us abroad into the vast expanse of space a few years ago, but I’ll never forget that poster. Turns out global warming did get the last laugh after all. The Earth’s core was dying out so slowly that no one ever really truly noticed until it was too far gone. The Axartiens arrived and helped us to understand that the moon was never really truly a moon. It was six to be exact. Six celestial bodies (that we’ll call moons from this point on) have been circling and orbiting the earth for the past sixty million years. Five of which are Vanta Black. That’s a black so deep and dark there’s no possible way you’d to be able to see in space. It’s quite literally removes all source of light. Those six moons ,one white and five black, have been a series of satellites the Axartiens have been creating for over 1000 millennia to save humanity. Why was such an advanced race working so tirelessly and secretly on lunar spacecraft that would save 8 billion of probably the most selfish self-centered egotistically, irrational people in the universe?
By Derrico Thomas2 years ago in Fiction
The Misfortunate Ascension of Duckie Waterback
Most of you’d rather burn at a kerosene stake with dynamite britches than be a runaway slave girl covered in a white man’s blood. Challenge my inclination and I’ll submit you a liar till your last breath. Yet and still, it is with minor irritation that I commit to you, the candid account of the misfortunate ascension of one Ducky Waterback—free of embellishment or editorial.
By Derrico Thomas2 years ago in Fiction
