Sci Fi
Bend #17
There are very little things us humans understand about the universe. We have this habit of believing we are capable of processing the wondrous mysteries of our infinite universe. We merely rely on educated guesses and made-up nomenclatures to explain all those things that draw our attention.
By Maria Claudia Garcia5 years ago in Fiction
The Lady of the Locket
7/4/2056 July 4, 2056 This used to be a day filled with barbeques, fireworks, and celebration. Trigger and I haven’t eaten in days. He keeps his bellyaching to a minimum though, such a good dog. I can tell he’s hungry, but his tail never stops wagging. I wish we could find some meat…not even for me, but for him - I can last a bit longer. It’s been getting harder and harder to find game, or any food for that matter. The world is not the same since The Hit, nothing works like it used to - except guns, really. I found an old vending machine yesterday and I hoped more than anything to find a bite for us - some chips, a candy bar, just something - but everything edible had been taken out of it ages ago. It wasn't completely empty though.
By Matthew Stanley 5 years ago in Fiction
Flowers In The Wreckage
One-hundred and twenty-two days ago we left Earth crumbling. Something had risen from its core; something organic, yet filled with malice, as its roots ripped through the ground--collapsing bustling cities and quaint forests alike. Small... flowers emerged from the thick vines, both beautiful and deadly as their spores released a glittering red toxin designed to suffocate anything that came near. After a long year attempting to battle the anomalous foe, only never to avail, we decided it was time.
By A. Leigh M.5 years ago in Fiction
Maddy's Necklace
Dragonfly drones are, according to common wisdom, the absolute worst fucking nightmare of our existence. Most will say so because these drones are insanely quiet - you don't really hear anything until they buzz down to mete out punishment on some poor fool who just couldn't take it anymore. So you have to look up in the air constantly like some tourist on their first trip to New York, back when that was a thing. Back when there was a New York.
By Michael Cabajar 5 years ago in Fiction
So Here I Am
Dear diary... Day 571 since the Framework crashed and I am still here pilling away in the basement of house three in this cul-de-sac. I have to be honest, I sort of miss the subtle blue tint that the city gave the distant skyline, but I suppose now I don't have to wear my blue-blockers like I used to. Mom would be so proud, she hated those things and how they covered my eyes. What else, diary? I feel like I'm treating you like my own personal Wilson from that super old movie... Which by the way, I'm not sure if I've apologized yet to the person who owned this diary before me. I think her name was Abigail. Let's start now, Abigail, I'm sorry I stole your diary and began writing in it. But to be fair, you only wrote on three pages and I've practically filled this from cover to cover. Also, excellent choice on the light pink cover, very tasteful.
By Harrison Sissel 5 years ago in Fiction
Finding the Good News.
Magda was walking down the scorching street, looking for her sandal. She had run away from some mutants earlier and lost it here, somewhere. It had rolled in the dust and pebbles as she bolted and clambered up the tree and onto the wall. They could not follow her there, they were too stupid. After they left she eased down from the parapet and looked for the sandal. It was gleather sandal, and while she could probably get another sandal like it easily she just didn’t want to on principle.
By Varvara Vinogradova5 years ago in Fiction
Chloe
Kyle screamed as he pulled the dust-laden sofa away from the wall. ‘Alex,’ he yelled as he recoiled, ‘it’s a cat!’ Amongst the cobwebs in the narrow space was indeed a dead cat, almost flattened by its placement between the wall and the velvety fabric of the modular sofa.
By Simon Hersey5 years ago in Fiction
Fermentation
T oday marks the ten-year anniversary of when General Loch Snow and his totalitarian regime took over M-city. I was thirteen at the time and lived in a normal neighbourhood where kids played in the streets. My mom was an accountant and my dad was a doctor. We were an ordinary family until a motorcade paraded through our town with a fleet of large vans. They rounded up everyone and separated the adults and children. My friends Dexter, Winnie, Vinyl, my dog Hoax, and I secretly rode our bikes to the next city over to play in the creek. We all heard the sirens and bombs go off. A grayish brown smoke filled the air and neighboring towns had to evacuate. We fled to take cover in our secret hideout.
By Sheryl Henderson5 years ago in Fiction
Dull Revolution
It was the summer of 2050. Alexandria sat inside her kitchen slowly eating her tasteless oatmeal and washed it down with some black coffee. She put the dirty dishes in her dishwasher, and walked to her job in the sunglasses factory in Paris. It had originally been a sunglasses factory in the old days to block harmful UV rays, but in the last few years had morphed into something more sinister. The glasses they made now dulled color vision because seeing color was "dangerous." That's what people were told anyway, when they were forced to use them. "It's to keep the peace," said the Grays.
By Gabriela De Francisco5 years ago in Fiction
