Sci Fi
Ten By Ten
It took quite a long time before anyone was able to piece together what had happened, what was still happening. We now know that on Dec. 3, 2027 at approximately 10pm the formerly dead started coming back in spirit form, as ghosts, to use the vernacular. Not just the recently deceased either, but all of them, all of the dead, everyone who had ever died on planet earth, at any time since the dawn of consciousness in man (or thereabouts), had come back as a ghost. These ghosts were of the particularly frustrating, annoying and sometimes, though infrequently, deadly variety. They had a knack for releasing piercing wails at all hours of the day or night, scratching or biting the still living, and any other number of habits all seemingly designed to irritate, bother, and generally make living with or near them, downright impossible. And, unfortunately, as you might imagine, there were quite a lot of them. Estimates put the number at greater than 100 billion. For comparison the earth's population at the time of the rising was right around 7 billion. The dead outnumbered the living by a little over ten to one. The excess of ghosts to living humans has increased significantly since that time, mostly as a result of the actions of the ghosts themselves, but also, that of the living, and how we reacted to them.
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Fiction
Insectophobia
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. They. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Drake Solis tossed in his sweat-soaked cot. He thrust out his hands for something that was wasn’t there and he was jolted awake, but consciousness didn’t relieve him of his flashbacks. The ambush was burned in his memory. He saw it clear as day wherever he went. He heard it wherever he went. A door closed somewhere down the corridor but when Drake turned, he was back aboard the Torrent.
By Zachary D. Sajdera4 years ago in Fiction
The Coffer
The alarm is obnoxious. The flashing red lights of the room, along with the high pitched wail, makes me want to hide under the pillows and try to drown out everything. I don’t even remember falling asleep. I wanted to pretend this place was a dream. The whole of yesterday just some giant nightmare of kidnapping, drugging and odd companions. I am, of course, wrong. The tattoo on my wrist is itching, the redness not as bad as yesterday but still obvious on my dark skin. Something is thrown on me, and I let out a groan in response.
By S.M. Vargas4 years ago in Fiction
The Yellow Hibiscus Chapter 17
I looked around to get my bearings since I'd jumped off the train randomly for fear of being watched. I was at Grand Central Station. The closest was at 5th Avenue and 40th Street East. Though I'd lost track of time, I knew the library would still be open. I set my course and began a brisk walk of a couple of blocks. Walking was therapeutic and much needed in my hyper-harrassed state.
By Annelise Lords 4 years ago in Fiction
Silver Starling
It looks like a monster. I've never seen something so fearsome, so sharp, so loud. Every line is sharp and jagged without a hint of anything soft. I get the sense that it's ready to devour me as soon as I make a single wrong step. And it's not forgiving, either. It will make sure I'm consumed.
By E.J. Robison4 years ago in Fiction
