Heather Payton
Bio
Amateur Amanuensis & Chat Composer.
Stories (3/0)
The Eternal Engine
Ouch! My head was throbbing from an immense migraine. Slowly opening my eyes, adjusting to the sunlight slowly creeping into the box car. I looked around and the entire car was empty except for my old worn suitcase. Nothing seemed familiar, and I couldn't understand how I even got on this train. I searched my pockets for any clues to explain what exactly happened and why I was even on this train. First thing first, I pulled myself off the floor using the sidewall of the railcar to support my weight as I stood up. A clear crisp voice spoke over the intercom system, “All guests please have your tickets available for authorization in the dining car.” Food was the last thing on my mind at the moment, I was terrified. Maybe this whole creepy mystery train was a joke, and any moment friends will jump out and yell surprise! “All guests please report to the nearest dining area, ticket confirmation is required to access all dining cars.” My stomach was in knots And I had a few questions, maybe I could find someone who could give me answers. Walking towards the exit of the car, I noticed through the vertical narrow piece of glass a touch screen pad on the side of the entrance of the next car. Sliding open the railcar door, the air was so thin it was hard to breathe, I could see gigantic snow covered mountains, but that’s impossible! Just yesterday I was laying on my beach towel, soaking up warm relaxing Sun rays. Now I was standing on the crazy train, freezing my ass off, apparently packed for this involuntary trip. I probably need to grab my suitcase, before moving to the next car. The touchpad was very sophisticated, there was retina scan and voice recognition, this was some pretty serious hardware on the train,”What was this train?” I thought out loud. I imagine this train has to belong to a government or even worse, some rich sociopath billionaire with money to blow on this seemingly mock tribute to the recent popular trend of horror puzzles and starving games genre movies. My reality felt like a bad X-files episode, and it was getting more confusing with each passing second. “Hi, Alice, for security purposes, please rest your forehead and chin against the cushion guards, to commence retinal confirmation.” I pressed my face to the scanner, remembering my migraine as my forehead hit the cushion forcefully as the train entered a sharp curve around the mountain. Why won’t this damn door open, I can't stay in this cold much longer, my whole body feels numb. “Alice Broussard, passenger 7, access granted.” The next railcar door slid open and I stepped through the door.
By Heather Payton2 years ago in Fiction
Dinner
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. I slowly walked around the old rusted gate, trying to get a better look inside.The clouds are full tonight and a light drizzle begins. I definitely don’t remember a candle being lit ever in that cabin, could it be another survivor? The grass was cold and wet against my ankles as my curiosity pushes me forward. Every night for months I’ve walked the perimeter looking for signs of life after the blast. This is the first time I’ve found anything concrete. This is supposed to be a dead zone, and it isn’t the only one out there. After The Great Voltaic War, cities and towns are so rare that the majority of us have given up hope in finding one. I was a scout for a small team of survivors, out searching for food and supplies. Moving closer to the cabin, to get a better view from the old worn window. Someone or something was definitely inside. I never thought the day would come, I haven’t met anyone new in over three years. After the EMP blasts billions of lives were lost world wide. Everything was gone, there were miles of abandoned homes, schools and businesses. The EMP bombs managed to take out every single grid on the planet. I bet this old cabin didn’t even notice it happened.
By Heather Payton2 years ago in Horror
Dragoon Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Those words echo in every kid’s mind who is preparing for the Scaling. I can hear my father's voice in the background as he recalls his scaling ceremony over 20 years ago. Pride swells inside his every word. As I imagine the journey ahead, the vibrations from my father’s deep voice rattles the kitchen table. My mother is busy roasting carrots over the wood in the old stove. She’s preparing my favorite meal; actually my last meal as a boy. It’s time to earn my scales.
By Heather Payton2 years ago in Fiction