Sci Fi
Banshee
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But whoever 'they' are, they lied. For a scream was how the nightmare started for us all. Our listening posts heard it first. It only lasted for forty-six seconds, but it was heard everywhere in the Terran sphere of influence. The broadcast stations on our colonies orbiting Antares and Alcor shorted out, knocking out both power and communications to over a dozen colonies. The E.S.S. Pasternak, a 50,000-passenger carrier enroute to the Canopus system had its navigational array fail. It was only by a miracle that the crew avoided a collision with one of the many space stations on the Canopus run. Even in the highest levels of the Terran government, the Scream could not be silenced or clamped down.
By M.W. Whitaker4 years ago in Fiction
The Days Before
Chapter One Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I was spinning through that very vacuum; orbiting an unnamed planet on a man-made moon, under a mile thick, impenetrable dome that made it even less likely any life form in the vast universe might hear my howls of grief.
By Karen Kamenetsky4 years ago in Fiction
Hidden Intentions
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Aleesha couldn't help but to think back to the air lock. The way that woman banged on the door. Sure, the glass may have been bullet proof and capable of withstanding the force of vacuum, but the strength someone possesses when they're about to experience death is uncanny.
By Thavien Yliaster4 years ago in Fiction
Lost Amongst the Stars
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. 15-year-old Alethea pulls down her vintage headphones to block the cries that are coming from right outside her window. With a groan, Alethea looks at her holo-clock and rolls her eyes. The giant panels that project the sky were still only a dull blue, yet as She looked out her bedroom window, Alethea could see them. The jumpers, high school students who would make their way up to the 33rd floor and jump off the ledge joyfully screaming all the way down.
By [email protected]4 years ago in Fiction
Forgotten
Saturday: August 6 I got up and got changed. I went downstairs and saw Sami again. She was sitting downstair on the table. She was showing me her sketches of the floorplan of the Hellman Place. She said, "Next week Monday, the building having a annivesary party. That's when we make our escape. There won't be any hall monitors. Everyone will dress up so it's hard to tel who are the patients. All we have to do is go outside as we don't feel good and we need a fresh air." I nodded as I listen to the plan. All we have to do is wait until the day comes. Then we make our escape.
By Jade Renteria4 years ago in Fiction
Going Up
"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say." KiKi has that line tattooed in big letters in the middle of her back. There are other smaller quotes from rebel leaders and writers all over her muscled body. I would ask her why that one is so big, but it is already awkward that I am naked with her. I'm suddenly aware that my newbie status must be as clear as my uninked flabby white skin. We are in a decontamination chamber being sprayed with god knows what before our journey up.
By Andrew Gaertner4 years ago in Fiction
Words To Die By
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Jennings grunted sourly, staring at the poster beside the airlock door, and reread the words yet again. The poster was the only thing decorating the bare 20’ X 20’ airlock used to execute prisoners. “The warden was truly a twisted bitch,” he thought. She had even pasted one of those ‘have a nice day’ yellow smiley faces beside the word scream. Jennings waited for death. It was close now. Any moment the airlock door would open, and he would be ejected into space. Three years he had spent on Kranock 9, this death row prison, convicted for the murder of his wife. Thirty-six agonizing months waiting for all his legal appeals to fail, and lead him to this moment. His wife was dead, murdered, and he had been blamed for it. It didn’t matter that he was innocent, that the frame job was perfect, the judge and system corrupt. All that mattered was his joy, his life and his future, had been snuffed out in an instant.
By Brian Cochran4 years ago in Fiction





