Sci Fi
The Things we Find, Chapter Two
For Neetra it was business before pleasure. She spent the rest of the day looking over what Joe had brought back for her, which she had to admit was romantic in its own way, though the real romance kicked off later when she gave each of her Christingles a new candle and took a long preparatory bath in the best galactic mud. It wasn’t that the transition to her little-girl self was temporary. Neetra felt she owed it to her fringe-and-pigtails persona to do what that one had dreamed of, and liked to keep lines of communication clear to her throughout.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Things we Find, Chapter Three
As soon as Croldon Thragg wasn’t quite so busy Joe was going to propose the construction of a bridge between Nottingham and the factory. Our hero envisaged everything being in walking-distance one day. Next morning however, while such plans were still on the drawing-board, he let his rotor-blades take the strain and took the Valour up while Neetra still contentedly snored.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Things we Find, Chapter Four
As soon as Joe’s plans were known in Nottingham, a change came over the city. Neetra felt it as she walked to the Media Centre one evening, brownstone edifices on either side of her shading in tone with the reddening russet sky, their portals and window-arches already black. There was more in the air than autumn leaves. It reminded our heroine of the long-ago October she created Nottingham on Earth, just as it was perhaps this Nottingham’s first October now. Destiny somehow always seemed to come into that time of the year. On the outside steps stood a figure and a membrane Neetra knew well.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Things we Find, Chapter Five
Nottingham’s Mini-Flashes flocked to the cinema when the advertised hour came. It was a tunic-and-pants convocation on the grandest scale yet seen, and every row and box and gallery tingled in the softly-lit hush. There were people and beings besides Mini-Flashes too, helping crowd the auditorium to capacity, all called to this spot on this night by the prospect of thirty-seven seconds which might bridge that far lengthier duration between then and now.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Great Sinking. Top Story - April 2022.
The hold was cramped and colder than I would have imagined it was although, considering that I was not even supposed to be on such a mythical boat to begin with, it was a miracle in itself. The cramped room however was not the height of luxury that this boat of miracles was made out to be. The smell of dirty bodies and the sounds of growling stomachs were like that of a strange song or of a dance that I had yet to know the words of.
By Savier Silva5 years ago in Fiction
The Voice of Violence is Silence
Disclaimer: I love reading, I love science fiction. I came across an old, tattered copy of Octavia Butler's "The Patternmaster" and though I had read this book many years ago, I re-read it. It inspired the following pondered thoughts. I figured why not share them with you?
By Whimsical Wanderer 5 years ago in Fiction
A.A.G.M. Prologue
Prologue April 11, 2011 The earthquake vibrates the bullet train. Greg Sampson, a man who conceals his anger and nervousness just below the skin, tucks his briefcase between his legs and spins his chubby thumbs in circles. In the briefcase is a tiny, plastic container housing his most prized possession—a slice of Albert Einstein’s brain stem cerebellum. Greg acquired this piece from Thomas Harvey, who stole Einstein’s brain, nearly two decades ago.
By Melissa Shekinah5 years ago in Fiction
Is It Too Late?
Eli glanced around the empty helicopter before dropping his head into his hands. He hoped more of his friends would attend the Society meeting this year. They needed to work together right now. But it appeared they had given up. He traveled alone.
By Chloe Longstreet5 years ago in Fiction
