Hi! I’m Roy Huff, a huge sci-fi/fantasy lover! I also happen to be an award-winning, best-selling author. If you like, please share. Read my latest here https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08DHKJF54
Sands Dunes of Time
I let impatience get the better of me. It’s what I always did. I slurped the last drop of water as the scorching hot sun burned my already blistered skin. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last exposed in the never-ending sand dunes. Each one bled together. My eyes had begun to fail me. I couldn’t tell them apart.
Raymond’s eyelids lifted. He coughed, exhaling salt water that burned his nostrils. He lay strewn across a sailboat, its tattered sails sagged from the rusted poles. Cracked, cabin windows framed the door that hung off its hinges. Chipped, discolored paint blanketed its hull. Debris and seaweed dotted its splintered deck. Its mast bent at a sharp angle, ropes frayed and tangled, some dangling from their cleats.
The garbled text ended abruptly, leaving me with only a single coherent phrase: “Reset your password!” The rest of the message was nothing but a jumbled mess of letters and numbers which made no sense. I studied the data closely, trying to understand it. According to the readings, the signal originated from the deep vacuum of space. But, I knew that this wasn’t uncommon.
Fiction Is a Driver of the Future
There are many reasons why writers write. Some have a story that simply has to be told, others like to create worlds that can be shaped and molded by their own thoughts and desires. Regardless of the reason, the end product is not just ink on paper or words on a screen; the final product is a blueprint that can be used as inspiration for more ideas and a driver of innovation and technology that can be developed further at some point in the future.
Hearts of Yesterday
Over the past few weeks, Rita’s days, nights, and dreams blurred until they were indistinguishable. The typewriter punished her fingers as she hammered its oversized keys. Her eyelids grew heavy, but she held them open, grateful for the work yet longing to return to her modest but comfortable London flat.
“Dad, what are we going to do?” “What we’ve always done,” Peter replied. The city’s silhouette filtered through the window panes. Narrow glass tunnels joined mega-structures connected into a massive complex accessible from anywhere within the sprawling metropolis.