Short Story
You Promised Me Eternity So I Used It Up
“I wish I would have told you all of this sooner,” Dr. Spat said to his daughter, Loody. “Before the bombs started to drop.”
Dennis VogenPublished 3 years ago in FictionHappy Birthday, Richard.
Nova shoved the stack of dusty papers from her mom’s jewelry box she found in the basement. She only had a minute, two at the most, if they were looking for her. She knew her fear was ridiculous, she hadn’t broken any laws yet with her 18th birthday still two days away. To be safe, she’d spent yesterday holed up in her house, while waiting to hear from Richard.
Sherri RolfsPublished 3 years ago in FictionDoomsday Fell on a Wednesday
Eartha Voss, sold her small hobby farm and moved herself, and daughter to Washington. Months went by, the two settled in a travel trailer a mile from the beach.
Saroyan ColesPublished 3 years ago in FictionIn The End
It had become an unspoken rule that whoever you’d been back then – before the black steel tendrils of their ships had dropped beneath the surface of the clouds to change our world forever – it didn’t matter anymore. We were all scavengers now, desperately ransacking the burned husk of what remained and scurrying between sanctuaries like drowning rats on a sinking ship.
Shawn StarkweatherPublished 3 years ago in FictionFinding Freedom
"Earth to Mars Lander, report status please." Eli glanced around. Phobos and Deimos hung low in the star-filled sky, suspended just above the peak of the enormous canyon. There was nothing but red earth in all directions as far as the eye could see.
The Jaws of a Rodent
Fifteen years ago, when the very ground below us became blanketed with the thick, unbreathable smog, the only way we had left to go was up. The few who didn't manage to fall ill spent months attempting to build skyscrapers to salvage all that was left. They turned out to be mostly just skeletons of a sound structure, warped wooden platforms held together with metal beams and wooden planks hundreds of meters above the ground. Despite the distance, the fog is still smothering and grey, though my grandfather insists that it was much worse during his time below. When I was younger I used to pry for information about where the fog came from, but my grandfather would often just look askance and somehow avoid my questions. I still often find myself wondering how my mom could have possibly welcomed a child into a world full of wretched smog and swaying towers, but I'd never say that directly. I'm well aware that my family does all that they can for me, despite the circumstances.
Devyn LofthousePublished 3 years ago in FictionEpilogue
She doesn’t listen anymore- not that she ever really did. I think, sometimes, she could hear me or sense me and direct the story accordingly. Now, she simply ignores me, pays me no mind or attention. She got what she wanted, after all, she got the satisfaction of typing out a pretty, perfect ending to a tragedy she didn’t have to survive. I think she enjoyed it, honestly. She invented a world and smashed it to pieces with plague and fascist warfare. She invented me, gave me long, black curls that flashed violet in the sunlight. I should be grateful to her that she went out of her way to make me exceptionally beautiful. My creator birthed me to be perfect. Then she took her perfect creation and battered, tortured, and exhausted it. Why breathe something so lovely into existence only to ruin it?
Laurena FauiePublished 3 years ago in FictionRecoil
My alarm going off was like a bell swinging back and forth in my head and rattling my brain. Those two hours of sleep were as useful as an umbrella in a hurricane. Since my husband died last year, I haven’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in a day. I finally went to the doctors last week to try to break this cycle, and the doctor started by recommending melatonin and a regular nighttime routine. Clearly, that hasn’t been working too well. I have another appointment today where I will hopefully get something stronger for my insomnia.
Mikayla PlettPublished 3 years ago in FictionA TALE TAIL HEART
“Move. You,” he barked to the masked man closest to him. “Clear off the table. GO people. NOW” he ordered them as his hands cooked to a deep red under the ultraviolet solar dry-scrub vent. He winced as the denature was painful and everyone scrambled as they had done so many times before but this time was different. This time the patient was an eleven-year-old girl. This was the youngest so far. No one knew what would happen if you did this to a newborn baby, but if you did it to anyone over forty-six, up till now the outcome was usually bad. After thirty-six, the outcome was better bad, but you risked a scrambled mind about half the time and a sociopath the other half. Once someone came out sort of normal.
CK Henson HayesPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Illustrator
The truck came during the early morning, around 6 am. The sound of the engine outside our bedroom window stirred me awake. I felt my wife roll over, irritated at the disturbance. ‘Isaac, go pick it up. It gets smelly if you leave it out too long.’
Orlagh BillingPublished 3 years ago in FictionComing Home
It has been almost 50 years since the world crumbled apart into the ruins of society, we find ourselves struggling to survive in today. Ever since the bombs decimated over half of the population of this dying planet, I have come to realize that we are undeniably a virus. The thought of being in control of our own destinies blinded us from the truth and that truth is, we were destined to fail. Instead of coming together and working out our differences, we pointed fingers while making excuses rather than accepting the consequences of our decisions. The crumbling and desolate landscape we scurry around in trying to make it another day is the result of our own demise and hubris.
Joseph RuhlPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Harvesters
It didn’t matter how the world ended. Ultimately, the world just got tired, like the rest of us. The only thing that mattered is the bronze locket wrapped around my wrist.