Excerpt
The Beggar
1. An awakening The air, cold, paints over the hair on my arms, leaving the skin dry and rigid. My hands are trembling, but not from the wind that grates across my knuckles. I open my eyes to look down at my hands. Bruised, filthy, tormented hands. They grieve and ache of loss.
By Christopher Enberg3 years ago in Fiction
The Awakening
The day human beings became extinct was also the day they became immortal. It started like any other. Cathal's alarm went off at exactly 5 am with the newest pop propaganda peace playing at just the right volume. The temperature was perfect, the air quality pure. It’s been almost a week since he left incarceration, but this world still felt strange to him. In a cage he lived for fifteen years and yet this felt more like prison to him than before. At least the bed was comfortable and the shower warm. He heard the shower starting on cue with his thoughts. As he climbed out of bed the room virtually changed to a tranquil forest. The A.I. responding perfectly to his mental requests received by the chip in his wrist. The music changed to sync with the forest. The water was beautiful, now resembling a water fall it was exactly what he thought needed. There under the water he fell within himself. Water disrupted the artificial link between the chip and the network. He clutched the heart-shaped locket around his neck tightly as he closed his eyes. Made of pure gold it was from a time beyond the knowledge of those whom live today. Ancient it was with an exquisite obsidian set into its side. His breath lead him within a world of beauty and free flowing creation, which was devoid of control. A world with iridescent geometric patterns and beings of pure energy manifesting whatever they chose in the air in front of them. They played with the fabric of creation as if it was clay. Shifting their own forms at random will like octopi in the ocean. It was there that he could still see his son. And the wolf, Cathal always found the wolf, the massive canine with fur as black as obsidian was always there. Staring at Cathal with its glowing eyes. Eyes which glowed with the intensity of a raging inferno. The beast starred at him with an aura of both expectation and disappointment. He couldn’t help but get filled with fear whenever he stared into those primal eyes. But there was something familiar about the wolf. Cathal had the feeling that he knew the it. The water stopping sparked him back and he cleared his mind before the A.I. synced again.
By Aiden von Ulf3 years ago in Fiction
Mouse Ears, a Wand, and a Bumblebee
She closed her eyes as sleep took her, her ancestors was listening, taking away the pain, injecting her with love and light. The light drew her in; flashes of memories flooded her mind. but she didn't remember her sadness when her pet fish nemo died. She didn't see the day her friend got married. She didn't remember the birth of her newborn daughter’s faith, nor the blood on her hands when she touched her newborn son brandon. The light portrayed images but not the image of her wedding nor the image of her graduating med school, shaking professor smith’s hand as she thought of all the things she wished she did to that sinful body. It didn't showcase the night she discovered who she was meant to be or her nights in the closet crying, away from others because public crying is a weakness and Evangeline is not WEAK.
By Michelle LJ3 years ago in Fiction
The Trial
Seems like only yesterday that she was here, I never knew how much I would miss her until she was gone. This thing now, this little locket that once upon a time might have seem so little to me is now the only remembrance, I have of her. All that being said I can no longer just sit here and sulk in my own sorrows I must keep moving in order to find safety in this hellish place that was made by man. I never though in a million years that I would be living in an abandon store front in this once beautiful city of Seattle trying to find a way to survive and hatch a plan to rescue the girl who’s neck this locket belongs to. Oh, Justine my love oh how I miss you and long for you only to be plagued by my thoughts of doubt that you are still alive. As I close the locket and put it in my pocket, I remembered that the name of the ones that took her were called the Silencers and that they had a hide out close to my compound in a near by warehouse on the Sound. Oh well got to keep moving, I cannot stop now the sun is going down and everyone knows that bad things come out at night.
By MATHEW S HUDNALL3 years ago in Fiction
BAGGAGE
The sky was an unblemished sheet of grey and wept a heavy spray on the city below. The masses huddled beneath umbrellas and briefcases as they hurried across the street, stomping on their own reflections as they did. David walked alone, unhurried, protected from the weather by a thick Navy issue overcoat and shining cover. Those scurrying by gave him an obligatory nod as he made his way across the street. The metro was still a block away but he was enjoying the day already. His heart was light. Today was the day.
By Dustin Zeier3 years ago in Fiction
One Way
He was hot. Heat from the sun bore down on his shoulders heavily like burdens. Sweat dripped down his temples like the sap of an old oak tree. Yet he was still for a moment. The calmness of the scorching afternoon was graced with gentle breezes from a nearby sea. He inhaled the aroma of water and salt, and briefly considered how long it would take him to trek to the beach.
By Kearra Dominique3 years ago in Fiction
Upending
Here are all of the ways I am not going to fulfill your ideas of a dystopian heroine. I’m not the girl who doesn’t know she’s beautiful. I’m not the tomboy who grew up with just her dad and knows how to throw a punch and fix a car. I’m not quiet and smart and inherently good. I’m not the poor girl everyone is rooting for to catch a break and conquer the world.
By Danie Nordahl3 years ago in Fiction
Fool's Gold
I don’t remember the first time I was standing in this place, but I remember the second. The sun had set, and we had just eaten dinner as a family in the ornate dining room of the grand, white-stone villa in the leafy borough of Annely that I used to – and, sometimes, accidentally, still – call home. I was late to dinner that night. I couldn’t bring myself to leave the balcony that was in my bedroom. Couldn’t bring myself to leave the sight of the city sprawling before me, with its endless valley of white-bricked houses and buildings, its year-round lush green grass and palm trees, the lavender-scented balmy evening breeze, and its cloudless blue sky, shattered by the molten gold of the setting sun and hues of pink. It was heaven, a moment so perfect and serene that it seems only logical that the moments to follow it would be so exceedingly hellish, if only to even the scorecard.
By Seannine Henderson3 years ago in Fiction