Eugenia Moreno
Bio
I love writing fiction stories, especially thrillers and fiction. Hope you guys like my stories!
Stories (28/0)
Home? (Part 3)
It’s almost midnight. I know because the ship is silent, as if all the life that it exerts during the day, despite its habitants acting like automated beings throughout, has been sapped inside a black hole. I’ve managed to deceive the invigilators into believing that I’m, in fact, asleep, when the reality is that my night tube is slightly open, its glass imperceptibly lifted from the bottom to deter it from closing and release morphine gas that will inevitably sing me to sleep. I hear footsteps approaching my area, their tapping warning me that the last checking round is about to be accomplished, although not before they ensure everyone is in their cabins, resting. Feeling the night guard stop at each cylinder, I make myself stiffer, hoping he will not notice the slight gap of air that impedes my sleep. He does not and I finally let out a slight sigh of relief.
By Eugenia Moreno6 years ago in Futurism
My ED Story
I too have been a victim of image obsession. In the 21st century where pictures of runaway models fill every magazine and advertisement stand, it seems rather tempting to tell ourselves, "I should pursue that body; it will make me more desirable and comfortable with the way I look."
By Eugenia Moreno6 years ago in Psyche
Home? (Part 2)
Walking through a white corridor illuminated by fluorescent blue lights, I feel completely emotionless. My uniform has been slightly stained, giving the whole outfit a different overtone from the rest of the ship. Despite the fact that some invigilator may force me later to change to some clean wearables, right now it's like I'm my own self, standing out from the monotonous and boring crowd that inhabits this spacecraft. Throughout my short journey to base 5, I continue encountering several individuals, all ignoring my slightly audible "Hello's" yet some focusing for a split second on the somewhat striking dirt patch that decorates my shirt.
By Eugenia Moreno6 years ago in Futurism
Home?
My eyes open slowly, unable to adjust to the bright light which filters itself through the glass of the cabin I have been sleeping in. The compartment opens, releasing me from its claustrophobic space and indicating that it is time to face a new day. I simply lay there, waiting for someone to force me to get up although I know that in this spaceship any sense of community, companionship or dependence does not exist. I hear complete silence, only broken by the distant sound of rapid footsteps, as if their tardiness could cost them their lives and in a sense, that is true. The few who managed to conquer the disease and catastrophes which shook our planet found themselves obliged to maintain the survival of our species by going into a spacecraft which has the purpose to take us to Galaia: a second Earth, somewhere in a remote solar system, far away from our beloved Milky Way in which the Earth and the majority of the population are now rotting in isolation, with no government or individual to take care of them and impose some form of order or sense of morality.
By Eugenia Moreno6 years ago in Futurism