Science Fiction

T-E-S-S-I-E Spells Trouble, Chapter Three
Robbie and Peter were nowhere near the doors they’d come in by when they saw they weren’t going to make it. A shape was rising up from the shadows to obstruct their path, and both boys knew what it was. Peter like a panicking rabbit shifted trajectory without checking his stride, all but wrenching poor Robbie’s arm out of its socket as he dragged him along behind him. The downward stairs they’d dreaded to look at had just become their last escape-route from a second protracted stay at Gachna’s torture-chamber.
By Doc Sherwood6 months ago in Chapters
T-E-S-S-I-E Spells Trouble, Chapter Two
Calvin and Sheila, if the truth be told, weren’t in any especial hurry to go home. The pleasure of each other’s company was increasingly a factor in this. It wasn’t that Calvin had put aside, or indeed altered in any way his undying devotion to the two Mini-Flash Junipers. He had however arrived at a conscious decision to play down the Juniper angle whenever he was in Sheila’s presence, because Calvin didn’t see how that would harm anyone.
By Doc Sherwood6 months ago in Chapters
T-E-S-S-I-E Spells Trouble, Chapter One
If it was odd that Sheila had wanted to go back to the camp at all, it was perhaps odder still that two days later Robbie and Peter decided it wasn’t fair for her to have all the fun.
By Doc Sherwood6 months ago in Chapters
Who's the real Monster?
Seeing everyone through their shadows with closed eye lids I heard the Thing say We don't have a lot of time. "To everyone who doesn't know me, my name is Z. I can control and become shadows. I know everyone who was a detainee and what your abilities are", I told them.
By Lucy Torralba6 months ago in Chapters
Hue and The Discovery of Manipo (Chapter 5). AI-Generated.
I never imagined the Tree of Knowledge would be fused with the entrance to Eden. The realization struck with a bittersweet thrum — here I was, finally uncovering the garden’s precise location, yet frozen and helpless, as if Yahweh Himself were teasing me with revelation just out of reach.
By Lorenzo Bland6 months ago in Chapters
The Portal
The portal The hallway opened to a balcony overlooking the work floor below. Daniel crouched behind the rail. Four clear cartons were rolled onto a brightly lit stage.
By Mark Stigers 6 months ago in Chapters
The Time Node
Across the yard, white emergency vans from different cities rolled through security gates. Their rear doors opened at loading docks.
By Mark Stigers 6 months ago in Chapters
The Recall
Daniel had been asleep, but not deep enough to trust it. The sleeper felt wrong again—too quiet in places, too alive in others. Like something underneath him was listening through the frame of the truck. Even in rest, his hand never fully let go of the edge of waking.
By Mark Stigers 6 months ago in Chapters
The Taken
Daniel stood at the urinal, staring at cracked tile, when the restroom door swung open. Heavy boots crossed in beside him.
By Mark Stigers 6 months ago in Chapters
The Harvest
Daniel Ryder played the blues like he was pulling sorrow straight out of the morning air. The harmonica rolled low across the diner parking lot, bent and mournful, like it had survived things people hadn’t. Travelers slowed. A waitress on break leaned against the wall and forgot her cigarette. A trucker halfway to his cab turned back and listened.
By Mark Stigers 6 months ago in Chapters
I Tried to Forget You, But I Couldn’t
I Tried to Forget You, But I Couldn’t BY: Ubaid The first time I decided to forget you, it was raining. Not the gentle kind of rain that whispers against the window, but the heavy kind—the kind that feels like the sky itself is breaking apart. I remember standing by the glass, watching droplets race each other down, thinking how easy it would be if memories could do the same—just slide away, disappear, and leave nothing behind. But memories don’t work like that. Not yours. You were everywhere. In the quiet pauses between songs. In the way the wind brushed past my face. In the smell of coffee that reminded me of those late evenings we spent talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I tried to erase you, to push you out of my mind like deleting a file, but you weren’t just a memory—you were a feeling. And feelings don’t delete easily. I told myself I was strong enough. I started with the small things. I stopped visiting the places we used to go. I avoided the park bench where we once sat for hours, laughing at things that probably weren’t even funny. I changed my playlist, removed every song that carried even a hint of you. I even forced myself to smile more, as if pretending to be okay would somehow make it true. But every attempt felt like trying to hold water in my hands. No matter how tightly I held on, it slipped through my fingers. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. People said time heals everything. I wanted to believe them. I really did. But time didn’t heal—it only taught me how to hide the pain better. I became good at it, too. I laughed at the right moments, said the right things, played the role everyone expected me to play. No one noticed the emptiness. Except me. Late at night, when the world grew quiet and distractions faded away, that’s when you came back the strongest. Not as a face I could see, but as a presence I could feel. It was in those moments I realized something I had been avoiding all along— I wasn’t trying to forget you. I was trying to forget how you made me feel. And that was the problem. Because it wasn’t just about you. It was about the version of me that existed when you were around. The happier version. The lighter version. The version that believed in things like forever and always. Losing you didn’t just mean losing someone I cared about. It meant losing a part of myself. I remember the day it truly hit me. I was walking down a crowded street, surrounded by people rushing to their destinations, when suddenly, everything felt… distant. Like I didn’t belong there. Like I was watching life happen instead of actually living it. And then, without warning, I heard someone laugh. It wasn’t you. It didn’t even sound like you. But it reminded me of you. And just like that, all the walls I had built came crashing down. I stopped in the middle of the street, overwhelmed by a wave of emotions I thought I had buried. That’s when I realized something I had been too afraid to admit— Forgetting you was never the answer. Because you weren’t just a mistake to erase or a chapter to skip. You were a part of my story. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rewrite that. So I stopped trying. Instead of running from the memories, I started facing them. I allowed myself to remember without guilt, without anger. I let the sadness come, but I didn’t let it consume me. Slowly, something changed. The memories didn’t hurt as much. They became softer, quieter—like echoes instead of storms. I began to understand that holding on didn’t mean I was stuck. It just meant I had loved deeply. And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t something to be ashamed of. I still think about you sometimes. Not in the way I used to—not with that heavy ache in my chest, but with a quiet acceptance. You’re a memory now, not a wound. And maybe that’s what healing really looks like. Not forgetting. But remembering without breaking. I tried to forget you, but I couldn’t. And in the end, I realized… I didn’t need to.
By Ubaid 6 months ago in Chapters
Loving You Was My Biggest Mistake
Loving You Was My Biggest Mistake BY: Khan I used to think love was the purest thing in the world. I believed it could fix anything broken, heal any wound, and turn even the darkest days into something beautiful. But I was wrong. Loving you taught me that sometimes, love doesn’t save you; it slowly destroys you. I met you on an ordinary day, the kind of day people usually forget. But for me, it became unforgettable the moment you smiled. There was something in how you talked and listened that made me feel like I mattered in a world where I often felt invisible. You made me feel seen. That was enough for me to fall. At first, everything felt perfect. We talked for hours, shared secrets, and laughed at things no one else would understand. You became my safe place. I trusted you with parts of myself I had never shown anyone. I thought you were different. I thought you were the one person who would never hurt me. But slowly, things began to change. It started with small things. You would ignore my messages sometimes and then come back with excuses that I chose to believe. You stopped asking how I was doing. Conversations became shorter and colder. Still, I stayed. I told myself love requires patience. I told myself you were just going through something. Then came the doubts, the overthinking. I had sleepless nights wondering if I had done something wrong. I began to question myself more than I ever questioned you. That was my first mistake. You started treating me like I was optional. Like I was someone you could return to whenever it was convenient for you. And the worst part? I let you. I was afraid of losing you. I thought holding on to something painful was better than having nothing at all. I remember the day it really broke me. I saw you laughing with someone else the same way you used to laugh with me. The same smile, the same attention. It felt like everything we had was just replaceable. Like I was never special to you, just temporary. When I asked you about it, you didn’t even try to deny it. You just shrugged, like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter. That’s when I realized the truth. I wasn’t losing you. I had already lost you a long time ago. I was just too blind, too hopeful, too in love to see it. Loving you became exhausting. I was always the one trying, fixing, and holding everything together while you let it fall apart. I gave you everything I had—my time, my trust, my energy—and in return, I got confusion, silence, and pain. I kept asking myself why I wasn’t enough. Why you couldn’t love me the way I loved you. But the truth is, it was never about me. Some people don’t know how to love properly. Some people take advantage of those who love too deeply. I was both unlucky and naive. The hardest part wasn’t letting you go. It was letting go of the version of you I had created in my mind. The version who cared, who stayed, who loved me back. That person never really existed. And yet, I held on to that illusion for so long. When I finally walked away, it didn’t feel strong or brave. It felt empty. Like I had lost a part of myself. In loving you, I had forgotten who I was. But slowly, I started to rebuild. I began to understand that love should never make you feel small, insecure, or unwanted. Real love doesn’t confuse you or make you question your worth. It doesn’t hurt more than it heals. Looking back now, I don’t hate you. I don’t blame you completely. Maybe you were just never meant for me. Maybe we were a lesson, not a forever. But if there’s one thing I regret, it’s not loving you. It’s losing myself while doing it. Because loving you wasn’t just a mistake; it was my biggest one. And this time, I’ve learned my lesson.
By Khan 6 months ago in Chapters