Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
The Protector
“Quiet, now. Everything will be fine.” He says. In the twilight sky above them, patrolling ships in slow formations drag their search-lights between streets. Flames rise from the wreckage of burning buildings. The Thought Police are nearby, scouring the streets in regimented fashion, seeking out the cries of the wounded and afraid. They will take the young back to the State, and kill the rest.
By Matthew Reilly3 years ago in Fiction
Second Star Chronicles
The Cut He looked down at his body and saw the red. Not the red of his long coat, an elegant saffron, but a deeper crimson. Wet and flowing. The din of battle that had once rang in his ears faded to a soft song of swords and cannons as his comrades and crewmen were being put to the slaughter. He had never seen the attack coming. None of them had.
By J. Robert Hall3 years ago in Fiction
Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 19
Hours or possibly just minutes later, I hear people talking outside the door to my room. Ruth’s voice carries, even at a whisper, but the other two, men as far as I can tell, have low voices that blur in the chamber of the hallway.
By Megan Clancy3 years ago in Fiction
The Secret of the Heart-shaped Anomaly
They existed in a perfect reality. All 100,000 Units were meticulously created, trained and guided through their lives by the master. They each lived precisely 10,000 days, serving society in their distinctive functions to maintain perfection in the dome. Outside the dome nothing mattered, as it was not a perfect reality. They were happily sealed off from this disturbing possibility and for centuries it rarely occurred to the Units that there was another reality.
By Scott D. Williams3 years ago in Fiction
Trekking to Kirra
“Gonnnng!” “Gonnnng!” The warning church bells rang loud in the distance. Milla woke to see her camp mates scrambling around in the fire light to pack everything at their tent sites. How many times did the bells ring already? The sound of boots scuffing against the dry red clay of the ground rustled in her ears. She felt drowsy from the lack of a good rest, but she jumped to her feet and immediately began breaking down her tent. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt safe enough to fully rest. Her memory of the last 7 months felt both like a blur and like a fresh wound. She often got lost in her own thoughts and memories of a time before the “Awakening”.
By Elora Keagan3 years ago in Fiction
I Can Succeed
Only a few Elders remembered what the world was like before the fall. They say society collapsed. Governments and corporations pushed too far. Bled the people dry of money, time, and sanity. People fought back and it was a bloody war that lasted many years. Now humanity is just a shell of it’s former self, using whatever old technology we can find just to try and survive.
By Matthew Daley3 years ago in Fiction
Lost Sanctity
LOST SANCTITY BY TIMOTHY S PURVIS You stand on the battle field trying desperately to blink. Smoke, and burning flesh, the pounding of warheads against the ancient soil, the screams of dying men (those who would be your friends), lay siege to the bitter taste that should be upon your tongue. Yet, it isn’t and you worry what this means.
By Timothy S Purvis3 years ago in Fiction
Shiver
Startled, I heard something weeping in the distance. I never expected to hear crying as a frightening sound, but this was downright creepy. My heart began pounding quickly, I began to sweat. Petrified, I was afraid to move as the crying continued. Blinking a couple of times, trying to clear my head, it seemed chilling to me that something was sobbing like that over and over.
By Deborah Walker3 years ago in Fiction
Atrophia
The end of the world was wholly, completely, painfully mundane. The preppers prepped, the religious prayed, and the larpers polished their collections of assault rifles and played a lot of Call of Duty. Only they did all those things over the span of decades, not weeks, like all the movies had predicted.
By Rebecca Sexton3 years ago in Fiction
The Redemption Project
Irony; A beautiful sunlit day, white fluffy clouds, the perfect picture of peace and tranquility. Played like a film in the windows of a train full of people all destined for death. And yet, not one fearful face was present in these seats. I could periodically hear the wheels of the dinner trolley as the hostess moved on to the next person in the aisle. Closely followed by the extravagant clink of cutlery being placed down, real silver, and the brief murmur of pleasantries that were often shadowed by the sound of escaping steam as meal covers were removed. The aromas that drifted down the carriage towards me were unrivalled by anything my nostrils had ever previously experienced. It was an unfamiliar tingle that I could not wait for my tastebuds to dance in. My ribs poked through my silk shirt, reaching out towards the sensations they so desperately craved. My curiosity of what it meant to feel full overcame me, and I peaked round the edge of my seat, watching the other passengers dive in greedily. It was the ultimate oxymoron; savages eating in a place of finery.
By Natasha Read3 years ago in Fiction