Sci Fi

Delta Core 2519
Charity jerked herself awake. She was chilled and completely disoriented. She was not in a room, or even a building. She was in the middle of the woods. It was night and there was a chill in the air. Fortunately, there was a full moon so she could make out shadows to at least orient herself to her surroundings. The land around her seemed alive with chirping insects. She sat upon the ground in rocky terrain. Tall trees obscured her ability to see far, but it seemed she was on the side of a hill. She crooked her neck. She could smell something in the distance ... smoke. Something was on fire.
By James Bell5 years ago in Fiction
Toxins
Memories. What are memories? They’re images that play in your head of better times. Or worse times, I guess you could say. But we like to forget about the worst times of our lives right? But what if there was someone that kept reminding you of these times? Or in my case, something. I stare at the heart shaped locket that sparkled in my hand like a diamond. It wasn’t made of diamonds, or anything fancy for the matter. But it was worth more then gold to me. I remember the day it was given to me like it was yesterday, although I don’t really know how many days it had actually been. It was a nice summer day in the middle of June. Me and my little brother were playing Marco Polo in the pool, while mom and dad sat on the porch in their rocking chairs. It was my favorite pastime as a 6 year old. Some of my best memories are laughing with my family, as we splash around in that kiddie pool. But then everything changed in a blink of an eye. I hear mom scream as I look up to see hundreds of rocks hurling our way. No one knew what they were, or why they were here. Just that it was bad. Being 6, I don’t recall much of that day. The screams, the flames that erupted once the rocks hit the earth, and the cars that the military men took us away in, was about it. But I remember one image vividly. My mom saying “I love you baby girl! Forever and always.” As she handed me this necklace. That was the last time I saw her or my dad.
By Lindsey Goertz5 years ago in Fiction
The Pulling Force
His foot splashed in a deep, dark brown puddle as he ran for cover. The torn awning of what used to be an Italian gelateria offered a reprieve from the rain that came down in sheets. Kneeling behind a rusted garbage can, he peered through the shimmering downpour. There was no sign of any movement. He quickly made his move to the building adjacent and dove through what used to be the glass door of a small grocery store. This would serve as his stronghold until the rain ceased. Throwing his canvas backpack onto the thick coat of dirt that replaced the floor, he layed back, pulled the locket out of his pocket and stared at its contents until he fell into an uneasy sleep.
By Evan Clarke5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket's Owner
It was late in the morning already. After stretching and aching, Jack rolls out of bed. “Ouch. Shit,” he whispers to no one in particular. He lifts his shirt, revealing a large home made bandage of duct tape and a pillow case covering his side, just below his ribs. Blood has stained through the middle of the bandage and the excess was beginning to seep through the outside.
By Christopher Stone5 years ago in Fiction
The Letter and the Locket
If you’re reading this, I’ve successfully sent this letter back in time. I’ll be brief. I am including in this letter, a locket. You must deliver it to the address I have enclosed at the precise time I have noted. If you read no further, you have already read the most important part.
By Brie Rosa5 years ago in Fiction
Not With A Bang
The earth has died. Not for us. If we were on the dark side. that wouldn't make a lick of difference. we would simply be alone and scared. and in this case scared wasn't even a bit of a stretch. I know what I’m missing. My compass. My reason. The tides in my life no longer pointed north. I am wandering. We are all wandering. because when your whole life is falling apart a little change of scene isn't enough to wake you from a bad dream. and when you're already in bed there is no walking away.
By Nikita Dia5 years ago in Fiction
Hail Britannia!
Part 1 Arriving home after several post-protest drinks, Michael opened his window, stretched a condom over the Fire Alert Unit and lit a cigarette. He opened his laptop, put on, for what must have been the hundredth time in life, the Dubliners classic 50th anniversary concert. He reached for a small black box hidden at the back of his top drawer. Opening it carefully, he took out the heart-shaped locket held within. He looked at the picture inside and examined the Gaelic inscription, 'Fillean an feall ar an bhfeallaire'; 'What goes around comes around'. It had belonged to his great-grandmother Orla, who had served with distinction in the Cumann na mBan. He'd only known her through stories, as she died long before he was born, but he always felt connected to the idea of her resistance.
By Pete Balloch5 years ago in Fiction
Nightmare
The last thing he saw was the locket. It was always the last thing he saw. * * * David woke up, soaked in sweat. He threw the covers off, shivering when his wet skin met the cool air of his dark bedroom.
By Lauren Triola5 years ago in Fiction
The Void
Eternal life is complete bull. The sort that both melts the cow on its way out and still has energy afterwards to reduce the fabric of society to gurgling mulch. It renders civilisation useless, unpicks the strings puppeteering it and lets it jolt closer to the ground with each loosened knot. All whilst dancing and taunting and smacking you in the face with this is what you wanted.
By Caitlin Britton5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
"Alright! Listen up!" The handsome young soldier was speaking to the rows of seats in the ferry, occupied by people who have that particular look of heat dishevelment, most of them awake, but several helplessly unable to manage it. The soldier braced himself against one of the bent pipe grips as the ferry bucked along the ocean chop. "You were all assigned lockers back at the port. You have been instructed to leave any electronic devices, recording devices, phones, educational holograms, anything with a chip in it. If you have forgotten to lock anything at the harbor, we have rental boxes on board the ferry, this is your last chance. You will pass through an EMP gate, and any technology with a chip in it will be rendered unusable, any media will be erased. Do you understand?"
By R Strange5 years ago in Fiction
Rewind
So this is the end. Trapped in a mechanical fortress in the middle of downtown New York lying down on the cold, hard, steel floor as blood pours out from the opening in my chest. So much blood, but that’s not the worst of it. I look up at the screen in front of me, the only thing displayed on it is numbers. 00:27, 00:26, 00:25. It’s a countdown to destruction. Once that timer hits zero, everything will end. That machine is set to destroy all life on the planet. A nanoscopic nuke if you will. 00:21, 00:20, 0:19. It was my job to stop them. I was supposed to be the hero. 00:15, 0:14, 0:13. In the end, I couldn’t win. Every story I read, the hero always wins. 0:10, 0:09, 0:08. I guess I’m the exception. 0:05, 0;04, 0:03. I’m a failure. 0:01, 0:00. I’m sorry everyone. There’s the sphere that will engulf everything and end all life. Why do supervillains want to kill everyone? Wouldn’t that include themselves? Everything is going white. I’m dead.
By Jeremiah Ellison5 years ago in Fiction
Midnight discovery
It was a little past nine in the evening. The night air carried a sting of cold in the dehydrated atmosphere. The usual mix of smog and dust defined the atmosphere. T-14 thought that surely all this night was lacking was a generous spray of moisture and his scene would disappear under a tiny white blanket.
By Scott Trudeau5 years ago in Fiction