Sci Fi
Heaven Comes to Earth
Life is expected to end as we know it. Once it came to the public, doubt flared up immediately, to be fair, this is the information age. Fake news is common, and people have predicted the end of the world for a millennia. It was leaked that a Massive Solid Object, or MSO, was on a collision course with our solar system. This piece of news was ignored by NASA officials initially, as there was no direct response to its validity. That is until the wildfire of believers began to need direct quelling by the media.
By Layne Perkins5 years ago in Fiction
Friendly Stranger
“Im just tired of wanting more.. I guess.” Not knowing my own emotions has never been something odd for me, and I believe he knew that. He as in the only friendly smile I’ve ever known, he has in the only man I’ve ever truly trusted. Oddly enough, for such an important person with such a high impact on me, I can’t remember his name.
By Desiree Ensley5 years ago in Fiction
Deep Locke
He never quite knew why he romanticized the ocean so much. To Aaron, it had always been the place of dreams. Maybe it was the soothing sound of moving water, crashing waves providing an odd sense of peace in the chaos he called life. Maybe it was the feeling of the water against his skin, washing away the pain that drove him, replacing it with what could only be described as fruitless ambition. Or maybe it was the thought of a world so different than his own, one bigger and full of life- one that hadn’t hurt him yet- just below the surface of his own. But the reason didn’t matter anymore. Dreams didn’t matter when reality broke them apart, piece by piece.
By Seth Copeland5 years ago in Fiction
The City We Live In
The simple syntax of the question ‘How are you?’ expresses complex semantics. If true, you would then be under the impression that the answer to such a general question would be elusive, muddled down by the hopeless attempt to authentically express oneself through the use of a third party we call language. Despite all this abstraction, the answer to man's question was simple; Roger didn’t know. Yet, he had no way of saying such a thing. Everyone was okay; no one felt anything different. No one could ever begin to feel such an emotion without a quick fix of Imperium, and so, the varied meaning the word should elicit was lost in his response,
By Joshua Ahlers5 years ago in Fiction
The City We Live In
The simple syntax of the question ‘How are you?’ expresses complex semantics. If true, you would then be under the impression that the answer to such a general question would be elusive, muddled down by the hopeless attempt to authentically express oneself through the use of a third party we call language. Despite all this abstraction, the answer to man's question was simple; Roger didn’t know. Yet, he had no way of saying such a thing. Everyone was okay; no one felt anything different. No one could ever begin to feel such an emotion without a quick fix of Imperium, and so, the varied meaning the word should elicit was lost in his response,
By Joshua Ahlers5 years ago in Fiction
The Deeper Awakening
His Present The room lit up as the dark setting adjusted to the morning, the natural light from the window flooded in, slowly piercing the shut eyes of the person fast asleep. The curtains lifted and made way for the sunlight to come inside the high-rise apartment that was elevated higher than Mount Everest from sea level. This apartment was built in the new age utopian city of Avalon, which stood firm at an elevation more than even four times that of Mount Everest from sea level. This was the only way the civilians would be protected from destructive radiation, dust, and tropical viruses that ran abundantly in the hell they once called Earth. Avalon was the haven only a few among the human race were able to escape to, created by noble and brilliant minds who wanted to preserve the Earth to its former glory but were hindered by the greed of the rest of the humans who destroyed the Earth. Their savior Dr. Arthemius Musk was the pioneering inventor and Dr. Lancellian Wilkes was the architect for this modern utopia. The Avalonian forefathers' joint efforts saved the good in the human race and hence their legends were spread everywhere. Avalon was founded on the principles of equality to curb the greed that eventually took down the former paradise called “Earth”. The people lived in the Avalon to serve ‘The Renaissance’. The children or adults alike are well versed with the principle of service upon which this city was built.
By Anindita Alstriem5 years ago in Fiction
Bench
I was young enough to fear what was in the shadows, but old enough to pretend like I didn't. So as I walked the street alone I held my chin high and wore a confident smirk. The night was beautiful but unassuming. The fallen leaves littered the wet pavement like confetti after a parade. The moon was high in the clear sky and the only sound was the echo of my heels on the empty street. It was just me and the unknown.
By Meagan Dion5 years ago in Fiction
Excerpt: The Unborns
Excerpt: The Unborns by Taayler Gray It often escapes me, the purpose of it all, as I’m lost in wonder and fondness of her. The stillness I’ve mastered alongside dancing leaves has sharpened over the days, as has the wind. She’s habitual, leaving none to the imagination. Moving only my eyes as I watch, the rest of me observes my surroundings. Tightening my grip around the branch, I swing to the ground and start towards her door. “It is time,” I whispered to myself. My steps, indistinguishable from the passing motors, lead me along. I stood immovable. Flashes of imagery of her gazing at the nothingness that was laid in front of us. Curiously, though, I didn’t ask what she saw. I reached for the nob, but hearing her footsteps moving closer to the door, I knocked instead. She opened it. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she gave a gentle smile and asked how she could help me. If only she knew, I thought. For a moment, my eyes felt deceitful, but they dilated as I captured her in my memory forever. A permanence she was unaware of. I reached my hand out and she met it before I could cross the border of her home. “I’m Eryn,” I responded. I had imagined this moment for decades. Leaving me questioning, what is time and how has she not moved with it?
By Taayler Gray5 years ago in Fiction
Die-ers Remorse
My mind is a prison and these times alone where no one occupies the chair by my bed are like my yard time. As I lay dying…. Hahaha yeah no if this is meant to be my memoir my last scream into the void I should probably keep it authentic. This bed, this room, these four walls and the contents inside of them are my existence and the single window right beside me is my entire world. A view of the road and the backyard though it was my world it played out like a movie unreal and unrelated to me even when familiar faces appeared playing in the yard or walking past. The end had come quietly at first not with the drama or theatrical flare I had liked to put on as humor for those I loved. Certainly perhaps there was fear at first for the briefest of moments, anger? Definitely I raged inside the cell in my head, shook the bars and demanded an appeal to a trial I felt I hadn’t even been present for. Although mostly what I felt was guilt, regret not for myself but regrets about those I would soon be leaving behind. Would the little bit of my spirit I put into things be enough to sustain them or would the nostalgia be crippling like the death grip songs from my past had on my chest I could only hope that they were stronger than me and could live for more than the past when your future is stolen and the present feels like this it’s hard not to escape to the past the feelings of health and youth while fleeting offer a bit of comfort I found I often lost myself to rambling in these final days but writing my thoughts down like this on this small journal did a bit to relieve the turmoil to beat the dead prison metaphor again the diagnosis of terminal felt like a death row sentence and I would die believing I was innocent to the end though I knew my crime was negligence a false sense of immortality a sort of hedonistic pursuit of things that kept me content and made life worth living it had snitched on me to the universe and declared my time up though while ironic that’s why I couldn’t grant myself the hypocrisy of regret. It was funny how I could feel my time growing short I had always worked well under pressure procrastination pushing me to each deadlines doorstep perhaps these hastily written words would be my magnum opus it’s not like I’d get another shot either way if nothing else they contained a raw purity none of my previous works held even in talks of loves or passions nothing quite inspires like death, death does not allow one to be coy or meek at least not those who wish to die well and yet here I sit my sword a pen and no hill to die on simply conjuring obstacles and demons to face to give meaning to a life of relatively dull thrills it had gotten harder to write my hands felt like stone when it got to be too much I’d lay back and stare out across the horizon imagining I could see the future but for me the horizon seemed impossibly close with a fast approaching sunset and night was coming cold and fast i tugged close the blankets and bid it come I had little left worth saying and I was impossibly tired so I breathed out my breath shaking hands with the night before departing for whatever waited on the other side
By Nathan Baxter5 years ago in Fiction
