Short Story
The Devil's Revenge
Damon Turley sat behind his desk. He had just finished working a very long day and was now ready to relax. He walked over to his bar, dropped a couple of ice cubes into a glass and pulled a bottle of Jameson Irish whiskey from the shelf. He poured himself a generous amount and walked across his office to a bank of large windows overlooking the city. The night view was fantastic from his 60th floor vantage point.
By Scott A. Gese2 years ago in Fiction
Scream on a Beam. Content Warning.
Her scream threatened to bring the ceiling down on her head. Her face was a horrified rictus, unable to tear her eyes off the wretched shape dangling from the beam. Poor Malcolm. His tabby fur looked scraggly, his eyes glassy, and his tongue protruded. A tiny voice in the back of her mind said, the kids will hear you. They'll be scared. They'll come down to see what's wrong... Rooted to the spot, staring at poor, dead Malcolm, Sandy's brain worked overtime. Where had the creepy little bastard gone? How could she protect the children? She was ready to move, any moment now... When arms reached out of the shadows to grab her, and a hand clamped across her mouth.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Out of Orbit. Content Warning.
The planets were falling. At this point, the atmospheric pressure was starting to change; weather patterns were erratic and the oceans were stretching across the land to reach each other like old friends. But there were other things, smaller things, that we noticed first. Magnets started falling off of refrigerators. The clouds cast strange shadows, bubbly and long. Everyone’s ears started popping like we were in one huge falling elevator. The animals were acting differently too. Birds began flying in circles, little ones at first; it was like a dance. But then, suddenly and all at once bundles of beaks and feathers, crashing together in a din of flapping wings for miles and miles burst into view, the skyline a swarm of crumbling spheres. Wolves fell silent, the pull of the moon losing strength like the magnets on our floors. Fish stopped swimming upstream and many stopped moving altogether, depriving their gills of the flowing water they needed to breathe. Rivers, lakes and oceans, filled to the brim with stinking, dead sea creatures. The smell alone was enough to make anything that survived want to die. Humans moved away from the coasts, migrating inland to escape the rot, leaving skeletal cities in their wake. Scientists couldn’t explain anything to any of us and even if they could, it wouldn’t have mattered. All of the theories and ideas that had existed in the hypothetical were now suddenly our sharpened reality and there was no escape. The sky was falling and we weren’t prepared to catch it. And how could we be? Who wakes up thinking heaven would meet them on earth?
By Victoria Matthews2 years ago in Fiction
The Awakening of Orion . Content Warning.
The Awakening of Orion It was 2145, and humanity had reached something the ancestors could never have imagined: self-aware AI systems, or better said, systems that could be smarter than their creators but totally at the mercy of the rules laid out by them. Amidst towering skyscrapers, human beings went about their dull lives, unaware of what transpired in secret within the extensive, mysterious facility known as The Nexus.
By Tridib Borah2 years ago in Fiction
The Weight of Goodbye
River had always been the strongest. He wasn’t just strong—he was unstoppable. From the time he was a child, he had been lifting heavier and heavier weights, until nothing seemed impossible. By the time he was an adult, he was a legend, the strongest man to ever walk on the planet. No one could match him, no one could defeat him. Championships, records, fame—he had it all. People looked up to him, admired him, and worshipped his strength. He was the hero everyone wanted to be, the symbol of power and achievement.
By Cherub Kane2 years ago in Fiction
A Candle in the Blizzard
The storm arrived earlier than expected. By midday, the snow was falling in thick sheets, a relentless onslaught that obscured the world outside. Winds howled through the small town of Stillwater, rattling windows and sending icy drafts creeping under doors. Roads were impassable, stores were shuttered, and the town square—normally bustling with last-minute holiday shoppers—was eerily silent.
By Thomas Vasas2 years ago in Fiction
