Sci Fi

Complacency
Complacency One word, eleven letters. It is a calm satisfaction with one’s own situation; to me it’s my treasure. My name is Ajea. I live in the 55th City in the Vanguard High-rise, Alto level and today my word is complacency. I unearth it from my totem, a prized procession from my former life, delicately running my fingers across the paper.
By Matt Standfast5 years ago in Fiction
Get Your Ass To Mars
I felt the heat savagely assault my skin, smelled the singe of it burning, before my arm turned into crocodile leather. I screamed so loudly my baby started beating me in the face, until his nose started to melt, into his face. He kind of swallowed his scream. So did I.
By Daphne Hughes5 years ago in Fiction
THE ZE
Home. Walking in the front entrance, I passed the growing piles of miscellaneous trash and evidence of gut wrenching degeneracy. Half of a wall was charred black, burnt some time ago with ashy foot and hand prints around the place. In the middle of what was once a living room was a heavily stained couch with bits of foam ripped out and spewed madly onto the floor. Down the hallway there was carpeting pulled apart and terribly worn with piles of cans, bottles and magazines strewn around the place. The only thing that held any real human value that was left here, was the random etchings and graffiti left upon the walls floors and ceilings, wherever a fevered dream seemed to have taken place. I checked each room to see if I was alone. Robby lay still and silent in one of the rooms, seemingly passed out and lost into it again. Was he still here since I left two days ago? I saw from afar that he was still breathing. By his side I placed a can of expired spaghetti and a jug of that all too distinct dirt stained water. I walked out closing the door and checked the last rooms to find that they were empty. In the kitchen i carefully pulled back the bottom skirting of the cupboards. The can and two bottles of water I left here were still there so I felt ok to store this nights worth of scavenged supplies here.
By Bartosz Cichonski5 years ago in Fiction
Her Diary
Day 474: We drank again. Eclipses are usually tough on the group’s morale, especially when they’re strange colours like the red one today. I wanted to keep a clearer head, and nights like these when everyone else is passed out are always perfect to have some alone time doing the solo night shift on watch duty.
By Krystal Gurjao5 years ago in Fiction
Insertion
Ever since The Encryption began recruitment, there were whispers of a phenomenon called Insertion. It was initiated with a multifaceted, multidimensional language, gifted to us from another star system. A cyclical and infinitely varied language that incorporated sound, visualisation, movement and colour. A synergetic symphony between the four elements that allowed beings to insert themselves into any density or dimension whilst also having the ability to know their lives entirely, absolutely and assuredly in the past, present and future. To be born yet already know death. If you were highly skilled and well versed in the language you could also experience yourself in multiple parallel realities at once.
By Krudelia5 years ago in Fiction
2021
It’s cold. It’s always cold. The air is stagnant, feeling a breeze is only a memory. It’s clean, but not like a fresh dew on the grass and air so crisp you can take a long breath and feel suddenly energized. It’s a sterile air, at least while the sun is out. Life in the compound is procedural, centered around labor and production. All individuality has been sacrificed for the cause. Laborers are assigned to the research Lab to find a cure and Producers are assigned an insemination year to help rebuild a longer lasting living population. Laborers and Producers all inherently develop a viral infection in their early adulthood. There is no cure, there is no immunity, except for Them.
By Christine B 5 years ago in Fiction
Dead Bolt
Nightfall looms as heavy rain falls on a dark side street; old rusted lamps flicker showing trash, litter and destroyed remains covering the majority of the street. Footsteps echo in the area which catch the attention of a homeless drifter named Fed who straightens up from laying in a pile of garbage; he rubs his bloodshot eyes in order to get a clearer view of who is approaching him as the footsteps get louder. Fed’s eyes widen and he begins to laugh hysterically.
By Shadow Lite5 years ago in Fiction
040
I gasped awake as cold adrenaline slithered into my veins, pumped into me through the tube in my arm. I shook my head to clear the stars from my vision, and glanced around. Surrounding me were my fellow Guardsmen, a dozen silhouettes barely visible in the dim light of the dropship. All of us were decked out from head to toe in black armor, dangling from the inside of the ship like chunks of meat hanging in a butcher shop. The mission brief blinked into my vision, scrolling across the inside of my visor in bright green letters. I had barely started skimming when Lead came over the radio, the voice so lifelike that I almost couldn’t believe I was hearing a computer.
By Brady Cobern5 years ago in Fiction
Godsfallen
“Do you take me for a fool, boy?” “What?” Theo’s voice cracked. The slim, straw-haired youth averted his gaze, opting to look around the cramped shop instead of at the merchant’s round, oily face glimmering in the lamplight.
By Brendan Byrne5 years ago in Fiction
The Heat
The waves keep rolling in, higher and higher, inch by inch, each passing day. Long gone are the white sandy beaches. Their shorelines have crept and morphed into an erosion of the city. The sunbathers have since receded back into the shade indoors or, if brave enough, under the canopies of balconies, all of them on the edges of their seats. From out there, toward the horizon, a gull might have seen such a magnificent sight if there were any left, any wings yet scorched out of the air. The sight: a hundred or more reflections of longing eyes guarded by mirrored shades in the windows of the high-rises, all of them glaring at the sky. They wait and they watch as the moon pushes close against the sun’s gruesome gaze upon the Earth. A darkness that they haven’t seen during the Hot Hours, that hasn’t eclipsed them in over a hundred years approaches with an audible anticipation brewing in the audience.
By Duncan Catellier5 years ago in Fiction
They Came from the Sky
I dive into an aqueduct as the sirens start to blare. It’s old, the metal barricade is covered in rust with only a trickle of water going through. My hands are pressed over my mouth to silence my sobs. The panic around the city is palpable as I listen to the screams and cries above me, silently begging that nobody finds my hiding spot. The ground around me vibrates as the explosions begin. More screams. More panic. More hell.
By Katie Tarbell5 years ago in Fiction
The Blackout Pact
Peter climbed the last steps to the roof, opening the door to the terrace and closing it behind him. His breath fogged in front of his nose and mouth, the cold night biting his skin and reddening his cheeks. Still, it was bearable, the worst of winter gone for months now.
By Gleice Miranda5 years ago in Fiction