Sci Fi
The Devoted
You can’t stop thinking about her. She is your everything. She is the reason you get up in the morning, the strength that pushes you through the grueling days, the last whisper on your lips before sleep comes at night. Intense feelings flood your system as you think of her, over and over, endlessly. You can’t help yourself. It’s as compulsive as the tongue that runs itself over the gaping hole where a tooth used to be. You yourself are down a couple of teeth these days, god, the front ones too. Thankfully she doesn’t care a thing about that, nor about the fact that you’ve lost considerable weight since the Beforetimes. You chuckle lightly to yourself. You’re not the man you used to be, that’s for sure... No, not exactly the picture of virility and good health. You can’t help but smile and shake your head, reminiscing. As you lose yourself in your thoughts of the Beforetimes and of her, the pleasure and pain and nostalgia all intertwining, your hands dig. You’re glad to have a task to do, something to occupy your days. The manual labor feels good. It reminds you that you’re alive. Your life has a purpose. She gives you purpose. The gratitude sticks in your throat.
By Alison Frank5 years ago in Fiction
Time for justice
7 October, 2137 A truck drives by and I dive into the bushes by the roadside. The branches of the bushes scratch my skin. My clothing is now in such a condition that they no longer protect me. I look straight into Rowan’s icy blue eyes. He’s sitting in the bushes across from me. Both Rowan and I carry weapons, wich is illegal. In my belt is a pistol and in the inside of my jacket is a small knife. Rowan has more. The weapons were stolen from the palace. Not by us, but by an ally; Ceder. She’s one of our dictators guards. Aeron, the dictator, could easily seize power since the breaking of the sun. It has only been a few weeks since it happened. Dark red fireballs as big as houses crashed into the earth. The world has been destroyed by it. The fire is burning almost nowhere anymore, but the chaos is growing by the day. Everywhere you walk, it’s a mess. People think that as they are still alive, there must be a very small amount of sun left. It's only so small that it’s always dark, day and night. It's terrible. But I was born to fight, I've always known that. I met Rowan one day after the accident. Through him I got into the Resistance. Every day more people join. Underground we were able to make a small base, where we can train. And that's what I did. Every day I practiced; throwing knives, shooting and fighting with my bare hands. Maybe you think now that I am strong, but that is not true.
By Yara Workel5 years ago in Fiction
A Lonely Hunter
Isaac wondered what he had done to deserve being the last man alive. A piercing, metallic ping brought his heavy steps to a halt in the middle of the street, fingers tightening on a long iron pipe as he scanned the empty faces of crumbling buildings. The clatter continued until the echoes died away. He had been a good man, a decent man. A man who did the right thing. He had done his job and loved his wife and daughter. How he missed their faces. How he missed any human face.
By Alex Merrill5 years ago in Fiction
The Walls That Separate Us
Requisition: denied. Requisition: denied. Requisition: denied. He saw those words every single day. Every time he closed his eyes. Every time he opened them. Every time he passed the growing, dusty stack of envelopes, squirreled away in the shed that he didn't bother opening anymore, knowing them to contain only those same words stamped on their shell in that off red ink, like dried blood, or blood about to dry, sticky and congealing and impossible to scrub clean.
By Gwendolyn Pendraig5 years ago in Fiction
PANOPTICON
I have a new job and I like it. For the first time I am able to work when I want, wake up when I want, take a break when I want. I had to buy the equipment, which was an investment, but I'll have it paid off soon. I'm going to be good at this job, I know it.
By William Redfern5 years ago in Fiction
The Dregs of Demerr
As the sun rose on another ice cold steely day, Griffin sat underneath the cobblestone bridge leading to the capital. He looked towards the edge of the bridge where a small path formed, and sighed. Griffin ran a hand through his hair and clasped the locket around his neck, a habit he had developed over the years as a way to busy his hands.
By Lucy Estep5 years ago in Fiction
Hidden Feelings
The footsteps got louder as they walked over the wooden floor of our kitchen. I was below the floor. Hiding. Scared. Terrified that I’d be next. The darkness surrounding me didn’t dispel any of my fears, but only intensified them. My breath was escaping my body quickly, as my nerves grew. Luckily, the frantic noise of my exhales were dampened by the banging of doors and objects hitting the ground. A policeman was above looking for me. After the search had stopped, I heard the police probing my father about my location and where I could’ve gone. Muffled, I heard my father say, “Here? You must be crazy. We haven’t seen him since the order.” After 30 minutes, the officer finally left.
By Paul Green5 years ago in Fiction
