Young Adult
Tubes to the Mountains
The morning sun breaks over the horizon in the distance, beaming its light across the vast flatlands. Giant grasshoppers flutter between tall stalks of wheat, munching and drinking up the morning dew that has collected overnight. That was the one benefit of working the wheat fields, mass amounts of moisture to gather in the morning. It made you feel like your thirst could actually be quenched since the water distribution to each household was abysmal. These brief, beautiful moments in the sunrise helped to make Danae feel like life was worth living. The deep purple clouds appeared flat with homogenous color against the vibrant sky of orange, pink, and blue behind it. Danae breathed in deep the dawn air.
By Jesse Terrance Daniels3 years ago in Fiction
Lab Rats
The woman's eyes dart rapidly, scanning the dilapidated Los Angeles streets as her heels pound through the rubble, shattering splinters down the pavement. The city, vibrant from a distance, shows cracks in the convincing facade when viewed with scrutiny. Buildings, once state of the art, line the streets crumbling in disrepair after years of tyranny and war, covered in ivy and inundated by squatters. The upper floors, however, tell a different story of luxury, dominated by Skyborn. In the skies, airships streak by, some blimp shaped and bulky, others streamlined and luminous. The woman is simply a blip in the idealistic landscape.
By Jessica Braatz3 years ago in Fiction
Angel of Death
I tugged my hair loose from its braid, golden waves cascading to my shoulders. Running my fingers through it, I grimaced. I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken my hair out of its braid, forget about the last time I had washed it. The stream gurgled invitingly next to me, offering the promise of reprieve from the grime that seemed to have become a living part of me. Tossing my clothes on the bank, I waded into the water. It lapped at my thighs and the sun warmed my bare skin. I sank below the water and only then did I allow my mind to wander.
By Lynne-Grace Wooden3 years ago in Fiction
With Love, G.W.
The chirping of cicadas is the only sound that occupies the dimly lit intersection of Citadel Road and First Avenue. It’s 1:55 a.m. and her window of opportunity is just ten minutes from closing. The night patrol is turning in, and the early morning shift never starts their rounds before 2:05. With one final glance at the nearest guard post, Robyn lowers herself down from her flat’s second floor window and proceeds toward the graveyard.
By Wahneta Berry3 years ago in Fiction
Unbecoming
People are unpredictable. When you think you know someone, something happens that makes you realize that they wear their masks well. When all is revealed, truths are upended, unsettled as if in a crisis; as if in an emergency with a sense of impending doom. Freeze. Reality is not always your destiny. You are the one thing in life you can control.
By The Omnichromiter3 years ago in Fiction
Worth Holding
June 2nd I’m going to kill myself today. God, writing it down feels good. Weird, but good. I know I said I would wait until winter before giving up, but I can’t imagine waiting an entire summer here, pointlessly looking for the people I know to be long dead and gone. I used to hope they were alive, but not anymore. It feels like relief, knowing my mom and my sister Stella never had to crawl through hot garbage, looking for a place to hide after scaling the wrong side of Trash Mountain. They’ve never been spotted by a group of armed men, cackling and hollering with glee at the thought of a hunt. Hope used to be worth holding on to, but I’m past that now. If the people I love are alive, then they have left – like I should have last year – and then how would I ever find them again? No radios, no phones, no clue or breadcrumb trail for me to follow.
By Sarah Joseph-Alexandre3 years ago in Fiction
When The Darkness Came
Ten years ago the darkness rolled in unexpected like a deadly wave. It poisoned everything it came in contact with. The trees dried out, they no longer bloom and shed leaves. All they do is rot their trunks turning to charcoal and dying bit by bit.
By Galia Rosado3 years ago in Fiction