Sci Fi
Field Test
Commander Garroskin stood atop the battlements, if the blocky assemblage of ferrocrete could even be called such, and surveyed the battlefield through his binoculars. Lines of trenches surrounded the central bastion, all of them manned by regiments of the guard. Several artillery batteries were in place as well, their heavy barrels pointed out in all directions. In the distance their armor rolled with a rumbling, clanking tread that shook the ground. Huge iron hedgehogs were embedded with their spines facing outward in a haphazard pattern that made them nearly impossible to navigate, and hidden within their shadow were caltrops with hooks to prevent them being torn out once they’d sunk in. Though it was hard to see, he knew there were stretches of razor wire, along with carefully concealed landmines just waiting for an unwary step. Outpost Avernus would be a tough nut to crack, but as an explosion lit the sky and the vox crackled to life he knew the enemy was about to try.
By Neal Litherland5 years ago in Fiction
RUPTURE 2121
I pictured this more as being a Graphic Novel but I have absolutely no talent for drawing. I feel like it's a good story and I can see the pieces so clearly in my mind but have no other avenue to get them out of my head other than words. Typing out all the excruciating details in the hopes that I can paint the same picture in your mind with my words.
By Quinten Larsen5 years ago in Fiction
New Bloom
Sitting on a cold rock with my hands pressed into my drenched face. The morning breeze is chilling as dawn approaches. I lift my head slightly upward, my eyes now peeking over the tips of my chilled fingers. In the distance, an exquisitely large barn owl glided past the setting moon, like the whisper of a ghost lightly making its presence known.
By Vanessa Caley5 years ago in Fiction
War Babies Pt. 3
Chapter 3 Walt was there promptly at eight as usual, I answered the door when he rang and he was surprised that I was the one opening it up for him to enter. “Wow, He exclaimed, “You seem to be having a good day today.” Then he got a look on his face like I was going to shoot back with one of my usual snide comments. “Nope, feeling pretty good the last couple of days. Must be the new meds and my little garden I have now. I have something to keep me busy.” I said. He looked relieved like my father did earlier. I kept reminding myself to not go overboard, just stay positive and let things flow smoothly. I did all the work I was given and playfully complained about how hard it was. Walt looked like I had become a different kid than he was used to. He was still cautious with me, trying not to set me off. I think I have this handled, and the afterthought of don’t you always? I knew this was a game that I had played before, only this time, I’d win. If I kept on track and not overdo it, they would buy whatever I was doing. There was a sense of accomplishment when Walt left. He and mom talked for a bit at the front door. I knew it was about me and my new attitude. Mom had a weird schedule, working odd hours as she was needed and sometimes taking small trips for business. That’s when I was kept in my room most of the time. Dad wasn’t sure of how to handle me and kept the phone on him at all times when she was gone. He’s the one who usually called Dr. Caltin and had them come get me. I think he was afraid of me. Maybe I had done something to make him this way. I don’t really remember the last five years since the accident. I have vague memories of throwing things, pulling my own hair out, starting fires and hitting people. My most prominent memories are of being in the ward. The same room it seemed every time I was admitted. The same staff, even though that had to be impossible, we had moved three times since then. I had to just be paranoid right? The thought still remained, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. I mean, why would they move with us? I wasn’t the president's kid, with their own medical team. It had to be paranoia, it had to be.
By Mysticpyrate5 years ago in Fiction
Who is Mr. Anderson?
Young Amir Anderson had a long face that came to a V at his chin. His eyes were large, long, and oval. His nose was small and slightly crooked at the front. He had a temporary 5' o clock shadow surrounding his long flat mouth. He wore diamond earrings in both of his ears. His hair was a mohawk with shaved designs on the sides.
By Elijah Davis5 years ago in Fiction
To Be A Landmine
Stepping on a landmine is a shot of espresso poured straight onto your brain stem, boiling and loud. You've never experienced this before, but it's singular- there can be no other explanation, no other possible combination of happenings that leads to this event. There is a click that echoes in your rib cage, and then a deafening nothing as the rest of the universe pinwheels around your foot and the All Beef Quarter-Pounder made of explosives resting twenty-six inches below the end of your femoral artery.
By Rhett Gentile5 years ago in Fiction
My Family's Dirt
Living in the country is supposed to heal our souls. The air is rather different, animals never far, but my grandfather never told me about his only neighbor. They only come out at night, make such a racket I jump in my sleep, and litter our fenced in yard with dozens of pellets. I wish my grandfather had just told me about this owl before I came here. I wanted to sit in the dirt, hunt my food, and avoid the real world. Rather than be haunted by my addictions though, I was now haunted by yellow eyes and cries. Cries of the winged predator, cries from its prey, and my own cries as I fail to find slumber from nature’s war games outside my window.
By Clayton Cook5 years ago in Fiction
Ozymandias
Konstance DuBois had no business in this new millennium. At twenty-three, he was a solitary creature– unemployed and with no apparent prospects. It was true that he had secured an undergraduate degree from Florida State University, and in the Legal Studies Department at that, but he had no intention of becoming a lawyer, since that would require engaging with society in a way he felt himself inherently unable to do.
By Katie Alafdal5 years ago in Fiction
The Whoo's-Whoo's Club
As the thunder roared loud and the lightning struck bold and bright, I stared out of my newly overnight sensation billionaire of a husband and I's multi-million dollar living room bay window in disbelief about the recent events that just took place right before my eyes. I needed a drink. Hell at this point I needed a bottle of wine. As I stood up stretched and walked across the newly installed, custom heated marbled floors, I noticed that had been trailing of what looked liked feathers. It made me cringe because the feathers were a conformation that I was indeed a witness of what I thought up until this night was impossible.
By Tuesdays Mom5 years ago in Fiction
