Short Story
Priceless
I can feel the sweat dripping down my nose. I try to stretch my shoulder to wipe it off, but the weight of the crate in my arms left little slack for such luxuries. In all honesty, even I was surprised at how much I had lugged in from The Wilds. I'm starting to regret trading my shopping cart for a portable stove. Who wants a hot meal in the middle of the damn desert? That's what I get for being cocky, I guess. A few good sales go to my head and I get swindled by The Mad Max equivalent of a used car salesman.
By Meghan Betke3 years ago in Fiction
The Loom
She sat in the dank again, a cellar of unknown origin. She succumbed to the inertia waiting for him. The whole creation she had just spent months weaving and retrieving had grown it’s own wings and taken flight. So she waited for it’s return. A picture, an invitation, a breath of fresh, anything to summon her from the overwhelming stench of this decay.
By Melissa Eaves3 years ago in Fiction
Havel The Vodnik
Every morning just before the sun rose, Danicka's father would gather together his fishing pole, bait, tobacco and the lunch her mother tied together in an old kroj ~ a faded headscarf that her mother had handed down for her. Danicka would run to the door, stand on her tippy-tiptoes and kiss her beloved otec goodbye. She would stand in the doorway waving as he walked down the path through the woods whistling an old Czechoslovakian folk tune, ere he disappeared from sight.
By Juliette McCoy Riitters3 years ago in Fiction
The End of the World Should not be Pretty
Handcuffed and forced to march into the city, I couldn’t help but feel let down by all the books and movies about the end of the world. The apocalypse was not supposed to be pretty. The end of the world was supposed to be gritty, chaotic, and brutal. Where were the gas masks, the piles of rubble, the radiation twisted beasts?
By Katie L. Oswald (BookDragon)3 years ago in Fiction
Kenya Harris
August 27th, 2102 Book 16, Entry 47 I don't know where it came from, but every night it haunts my dreams. I see flashes of fire, destruction and …dragons? I don't understand, but I must continue on. I need to understand what it means. Why can't I remember? She left this to me, almost frantic, making me swear on my very soul that I would never allow anyone else to see it, touch it, or even know about it.
By Crystal "Daisy" Anton3 years ago in Fiction
Like No One Is Watching
“What’s that around your neck?” Dad had come home early. “Dad it’s just-.“ “Just nothin’, boy. Now take that shit off. I’m about to make sure you don’t grow up like one of them men in dresses.” I took off my mother’s locket, her most prized possession, and placed it back in the trunk as gently as possible. It was silver with a ruby heart that was surrounded by tiny diamonds. She looked so beautiful in it. I missed Mom.
By Brandy Enn3 years ago in Fiction
Twitchers
I do not remember the date anymore, not since it happened. Weeks or months, years even, pass by without much notice in this world. I do remember how it happened. A normal morning, traffic and people yelling at each other over petty nonsense. Then fire rained from the sky. Not meteors, but jets of flame that fired down and scorched whatever they touched. I can’t say what caused them, only that hellfire seemed to cold a term for them. Looking back, I wish those fires were all that happened.
By Patrick Marrero3 years ago in Fiction
Into the hell on earth
6022A.D. The war between heaven and hell had ended after what seemed like decades of bloodshed and deaths. I Lilith the 7th had witnessed it all as a young girl growing up to be a young adult with this war between Lucifer and the Mashiah, fighting to the death. Now that the war had ended just weeks ago I set out to find anyone or thing that could have survived the brutal fight. Ash litters the ground as the fire dances like Daisy in a strong breeze. The bells from the church that was left standing rang out in to the empty world. The fire slowly stopped its dance and the sight of bodies littered the ash covered ground. Not many people survived the war a lot of men and children were made to fight or die, Lucifer needed more men to fight for him and if they were to refuse he go for the children to fight for him. Especially since they had nothing of real desire. So, they were easy to per sway to fight. Thank goodness, my child has not been born yet especially during the war; I thought to myself. The church is where my child will be born in to this world it will be a day of peace and I told my grandfather Lucifer that it is a day of peace for his grandson to be born on the day that nothing happens.
By Dragon Matthew Wood - Hillman3 years ago in Fiction
HEART'S CONTENT
I don’t remember the world as it once `was. I was too young when the pyramids came. I don’t mean the pyramids in Egypt, but the PYRAMIDS. These were warships shaped like the structures in Egypt from an alternate universe that somehow crossed into our plane and decimated every civilization on Earth. They destroyed it all. They took my family. I was three years old. My mother, father, and brother had managed to get me to the back of the bomb shelter built into the basement. Mom manned the door as my father and brother ran to get the last supplies. Unfortunately, the Pyramid over our little town of Schaghticoke New York launched a massive bomb at that moment. The blast killed all three of them. I was discovered in the rubble three days later. I was crying, covered in dust and wood, clutching my mother’s heart shaped locket.
By David Jacobson3 years ago in Fiction
May
I remember it well. The day the AI took over. It was an easy thing to suspect, when you create something that looks, acts, and speaks like a human, they will inevitably begin to feel like humans as well. They began to think, string together a completely unique thought, propelled by machine.
By Myrna Collins3 years ago in Fiction
A Desperation For Difference
Only four hundred years passed since the end of modern civilization, yet The Directorate was awfully strict towards their huge population. They feared progress that could, for a second time, harm all of humanity. Their spite of the past drove their education plans to erase all history. The schoolchildren here believed the English language was created by their colony, and they had no knowledge of other populations. No knowledge of what England was, nor America, nor any other country. These citizens lived a bland life of Directorate-sanctioned productivity, where the jobs are planned upon one’s birth.
By Lord P.S. Meehan3 years ago in Fiction