Sci Fi
The End of the World or A New Beginning Part Two
Author’s Note: These prompts are my attempt at working on writing fiction. I may not always follow the cards exactly, but it is me writing fiction. My first few attempts at fiction happened five years ago on Vocal Media, and on medium.com .
By Denise E Lindquist27 days ago in Fiction
The Quiet Below
Niko dreamed of the cliff first, like always. — the same sheer drop of stone beneath his boots, the same clean horizon, the same measured wind brushing past him in steady intervals. He stood at the edge, hands in his pockets, looking down at the ocean far below.
By Syl De'Vil27 days ago in Fiction
Beneath the Wake
Bane dreamed of the ocean often, though his version was never gentle. It came to him in jagged pieces — cliffs carved by storms, waves that struck like fists, a horizon that never stayed still. The water was darker in his dreams, almost metallic, reflecting nothing but the faint shimmer of his own eyes.
By Syl De'Vil27 days ago in Fiction
Into the Void
Sara dreamed of the ocean the way she remembered it as a kid — cold, gray, endless, the kind of water that didn’t sparkle so much as brood. In the dream, she stood at the shoreline with her boots sinking slowly into wet sand, the tide tugging at her laces like it wanted her to step closer.
By Syl De'Vil27 days ago in Fiction
The Star's Fallen Child
The worst thing you can be in Craemia is special. Okay, that's harsh, I’m aware, but it's true one: the more special someone becomes in this country the worse off they’ll be. I was protected, but now that protection is gone. One night of darkness cursing me to an eternity of such.
By caitodoesstuff27 days ago in Fiction
The Space Station Toilet Plumber
"Why could you not have kept your bloody mouth shut? As if it wasn’t bad enough that Commander Graham’s blood globules were floating around the equipment lock—courtesy of you accidentally smacking him in the face after a misjudged high five—you then had to go and volunteer through your own guilt to perform the spacewalk yourself. Idiot!
By Simon Aylward29 days ago in Fiction
Stitch: The lore of Sara Foxgrave.
Sara didn’t even know why she went out there that morning. She told herself it was just curiosity, just wanting to see how far the construction crew had gotten on the new house, but really it was because she hadn’t come back here since she returned. Not once. The old willow tree still hunched over the hill like it was guarding Lake Downing, its branches rattling in the cold wind, whispering the same secrets they used to whisper when she and Birdi climbed it and pretended they were queens of the whole damn world. The lake hadn’t changed at all. But she had. It felt smaller now, or maybe she did.
By Syl De'Vil29 days ago in Fiction
