Adventure
Stranger with the Locket
Far off the Eastern Coast is one of the last remaining settlements free from any outside threat... Up until today at least, as many bewildered settlers begin to gather outside before three domineering bandits known to most as Techs. Accompanied with the Techs are three of their Stooges. Once-human monstrosities that are void of all life, surely being controlled in some horrifying way. As settlers continue to show, a deafening high pitched horn is set off by the Lead Tech. “Alright, people. I’m giving you a minute for you all to step out,” he says with a stern expression.
By Derrick Ryals3 years ago in Fiction
Serenity
We had been trekking across the Ramdinian desert for a few days. The ends of my scarf lightly whip the back of my neck. I readjust it to cover my mouth and nose to prevent inhaling the sand the wind is kicking up. The sand is just barely tolerable compared to the heat. The temperature here rises to 125˚F, and ironically the wind just makes it worse. Greco and I can’t rest though. We need to find shelter before nightfall, or the Chimeras will hunt us down.
By Katie O'Shea3 years ago in Fiction
Project Noah
Casey was always a difficult child. Argumentative, willful, and sometimes just plain mean. He never got along with any of his classmates, and the only beings he called ‘friends’ were in the forms of pets, plants and even insects. He spent his days after school playing with his creature friends all the way until suppertime when his mom would gently coax him back indoors.
By Alex Perez3 years ago in Fiction
West of the Fracked Lands
I. I drop my pack at my feet as I step under the scraggly shade of a tall jackpine at the edge of the wildwood. The relief when I close my eyes is immediate, a black curtain dropping on the fir greens and birch whites swimming across my vision in the blazing heat. It’s hard to believe that the first Somali refugees coming to work in the gas and oil fields last century were called "ciyaal baraf," children off the snow.
By Jesse Warewaa3 years ago in Fiction
The Watermill
Was Springtime. The grass was still slightly soft, but we were able to enjoy the day wearing our T-shirts and dresses now. It was the early 19th century. I was in my late 20's with three children. Was full-blooded Iroquois. Experiencing the New World each day. I had married, the son of Lester Howe. An explorer in the Mohawk Valley, of New York. Lester had built a business, sort of museum called Howe Caverns. It was a tourist attraction for many. An underground gem. My husband Chester and I occasionally took a canoe ride in the little river through parts of the cave. I had met a magical man. His father studied magic, a few times during the week. Told him, this will help him everyday and to never forget what powers you really have.
By Janet Rouge3 years ago in Fiction
Reunion
It began on a grey December morning, the news reports were coming in from all around the world, the typical rhetoric from the politicians and media said do not panic but panic set in, as this was the most common response to such statements. A virus had escaped, or had developed, or had evolved, in some land far to the East that no one could pinpoint, they informed us it had the potential to kill a third of the world’s population, but again ‘do not panic’ was the repeating message.
By Jeremy Cavenagh3 years ago in Fiction
A Locked Dystopia
Malia ran down the overgrown hiking trail through the woods. Tree branches and briar patches tried to slow her. She ignored their cruel slaps and scratches and pushed past them. From the loud rumble of the engines that echoed through the canyon, she knew the raiders were coming back. She was on foot, as Chris had been. She wouldn't be able to outrun their trucks and motorcycles.
By Kristen Gee3 years ago in Fiction