Sci Fi
True Story
It was not aliens. I know saying that first does me no favours. But once a man says aliens, the story is over. People stop listening to the parts that are true. They stop asking what season it was, what the house smelled like, what the dog did, whether the porch light was on, whether there was a June bug dead in the glass or still alive, knocking itself stupid against the bulb.
By Patrick Gadoury5 months ago in Fiction
Sacrifice of The Sleeper. Top Story - May 2026. Content Warning.
They were not meant to save her. Everything that we had worked so hard to achieve and brought fruition and they destroyed it within five seconds. They were not meant to save our sacrifice to the Creature from next door. She was meant to lie in a deathlike sleep even as it ate her from toe to head. Never meant to wake up ever again. So that our homes would be spared from what was to come for all of us.
By Raphael Fontenelle5 months ago in Fiction
Intergalactic Monday
In the year 3026, the printers still fear management. 🤖🚪🖨️🚪🤖🖨️🚪🤖🖨️ Stargate, 3026 Monday morning crept upon Leonard, who slammed the audioforous alarm down with a swipe of his smartwatch-o-gram. He donned his office fleet pinafore. Flying to the office was impossible -- he had released the air from his VR Nike shoes the night before.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin5 months ago in Fiction
The Illegal. Winner in They Shouldn’t Have Come Here Challenge.
File AMO-U-9 ended up on my desk because Williams didn't want it. Williams gets on my nerves. We all know a Williams: that person who has more pull at work than you do because he knows how to charm those above by gossiping about those below. We're peers, Williams and I, in every relevant, professional category: same degrees, same experience, same little stars for achievements and credentials. Our resumes are practically interchangeable.
By D. J. Reddall5 months ago in Fiction
An Unfulfilled Dream. Top Story - May 2026.
This was always my childhood dream. Before I understood what I was staring up at I wanted to be part of it. Twinkling lights created pictures in the blackness of space. They called to me, enticing my young mind to explore their domain. Like all of us, what was important to me then transformed into something completely different as I aged. The luster of the stars has dulled. What draws me now is one speck of light where a new year is being celebrated. It’s where I long to be, celebrating with those I’ve left behind and knowing it’s impossible.
By Mark Gagnon5 months ago in Fiction
