Sci Fi
when the wizard calls
An undercurrent of urgency propels your steps along the brightly lit downtown intersection at which you find yourself. The dark shops blur in your periphery, wispy and stalling. You're moving fast, but your going feels slow. A long bus with an accordion middle sings by, orange and creamy light glowing from its condensate-fogged windows. You pick up the pace and round the corner in a rush, stopping sharply when you spot the bus already coasting up the hill. You can't wait for the next one; you could climb the hill in half the time. Your boss, Dr. Jacolvainth, is paying you a bonus for the inconvenience of checking on his house so late at night, and he implored you to make haste in arriving. So you aren't wearing the best shoes for climbing hills, but you proceed nonetheless. Dr. Jacolvainth's call was a bit of a blur; the connection choppy and his concerns garbled over the line. It's probably just a window letting in the rain, or that the mailman forgot to close the gate. Your steps stick strangely, catching on thick sap, spread across the sidewalk and glowing in the moonlight. A shadow creature rustles, stuck in the sap not far from you, straining slower than it'll take to escape the trap it's in. The lights flicker, and you notice the crooked lamp-pole, knotted with coiling roots, supporting a tree with its trunk split open at the bottom. With the weather lately, it's no surprise the carnivorous maples are active this late in the season. You take a hopping step, and in two more you reach out, scooping up the shadow creature under its belly to pull it from the sap. As you leap clear, your shoe comes off, and you land barefoot as the panicked creature darts away, leaving streaks of shadow in its wake. The lights flicker, and the tree grunts, and hundreds of little, glowing eyes peer back at you from beyond the light. You amble onward up the hill, careful where you step, wondering if you might retrieve your shoe when you're done and could make your way back home. At the top of the hill is another intersection, red lights glowing four ways, with nary a wisp of traffic. The breeze shakes the trees standing taller than the large houses they line, the family type, witnesses to time. A slight tingling finds your cheeks, like static electricity or a fizzy drink, both in the air and the fog pouring in. You press the pedestrian button, and the stoplights remain red, so you tap it again as you realize the fog is actually a long, stretching procession.
By Rooney Morgan30 days ago in Fiction
Aurelius Ascends (part 3)
At first, the crew thought that what was likely happening to their craft right now was nothing more than a minor navigational anomaly, a glitch, as they had begun sensing a very subtle gravitational tug over the last hour, something that all of the crew, apart from one absent member, had been starting to feel as a slowly growing vibration through the underside artificial gravity plating areas, which , while this would certainly account for the sudden ‘light spring in their steps,’ it was definitely not one that could have explained away the navigational gremlins they were experiencing with their shipwide instrumentation panels though.
By Jonathan Townendabout a month ago in Fiction
The Whole World is Watching. Top Story - October 2026.
There you are. Yes, you with your Converse that never go out of style. Your hair that falls like a wedding veil you never got to wear around your face, shielding innocence that never existed. The blue light penetrates your glasses, as if your eyes are revealing a relationship with modern technology that should remain private. You sit, listening to the wheezing sounds your dad makes. A medically induced coma is what the doctor called it when he explained the situation to you, along with the expensive details of the procedures he would need to save his life.
By L.M. Marlinabout a month ago in Fiction
In a Yellow Wood
It’s 3:15 in the afternoon, you check the clock again. Wondering if he’s alright. A gnaw in the pit of your stomach like every weekday afternoon. What if she’s trying to get back in his life again? Would she do that behind your back? You don’t trust her not to, so you set out the pizza rolls on a pan and stick them in the oven. 3:16, he’s late. Then you go to the living room and peek out through the curtains. There he is, standing there talking to the girl from down the street. She’s a cute girl and you notice the way Michael blushes as she twirls her hair around her finger. He’s not on his bike; he’s holding the handles as if he walked it home instead of riding it. Probably to walk alongside her. You look down the sidewalk and see another kid, head down, hands in his hoodie pockets. A loner. You can relate; you didn’t have many friends growing up either. That’s probably what made you so easy for your ex. She wrapped you around all five fingers and some toes. Someone, especially someone that beautiful, gave you attention. That was all it took. The kid with the hoodie looks up, directly at you, making eye contact. You duck back inside. But not before you saw little Suzie or whatever her name is down the street give your son Michael a peck on the cheek. He was bright red. You rush back to the kitchen.
By Raine Fielderabout a month ago in Fiction
The Dust Between Us. Content Warning.
Preamble : I almost forgot about Sasha's fun challenge. But I had a few moments to spare and decided to dive into L.C'.s wondrous portfolio of stories, where I found her drabble, "Unnatural" As I'm a massive fan of her work and she's a good pal, I decided to be mercilessly Paul in my mangling of her rather poignant tale.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
124 Light-Years from Home
From the moment you leave your cabin, you know you have exactly 15 minutes until The Advocate makes his way back to your section. You are going to have to move quickly if you hope to get any answers to what’s happened in the last 24 hours. Carmine is in sick bay, and hasn’t been seen since the away team was retrieved from a reconnaissance mission on planet K2-18b.
By Miranda Painabout a month ago in Fiction
An Unexpected Eclipse. Content Warning.
OVERALL CONTENT WARNING: MATURE LANGUAGE, RELIGIOUS CULTS, MENTIONS OF MASS SUICIDE, ALLUDED DEATH...ETC. Night is close. You strain with the effort of lugging your gear and telescope up towards the plateau you've chosen, quasi-hopeful this one will offer you a prime, uncrowded platform. And, you hope, no jail time.
By Megan Baker (@thegothofsawpit)(@shadowsitheghoststrikebwr)about a month ago in Fiction
The Night Grinder
Bruxism. That's what Dr. Field told me. "You're grinding your teeth at night, Jim. Pretty fiercely too, if these images are reliable. I recommend a night guard that will fit comfortably over your teeth and prevent further damage." He passed a shiny tablet my way with sleek ads for all sorts of bits on its screen.
By D. J. Reddallabout a month ago in Fiction
The Warmth We Had. Honorable Mention in Out of Season Challenge.
As I roused myself from a deep slumber of peaceful dreams of fantasy lands and mystical realms, I'm not sure what hit my senses first. It may have been the chatter of the blackbirds, jackdaws and crows that frequented the trees of our garden. Tuneful whistles and calls to their brethren about the succulent worms and scraps they had discovered. It may have been the unruly squeak of a gull or two. Though perhaps it was the sun shining through the partially open blinds of our bedroom, piercing through the glazing to my retinas as I felt its warmth.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
