Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Futurism.
Living the Virgo Life
I am a Virgo through and through. All bare feet, mud-soaked toes and earth mama vibe wrapped up and wound tight with strings of boardroom organization and CEO perfectionism. My heart and my intentions are always easy to find since I wear them on my sleeve, but my fashion sense leans practical and I believe firmly in wearing layers. So, while what you see is always what you get with me, your view may change depending on how sharp your eyes are, and how deep you’re willing to look.
Jennifer WedglePublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Poet
The first. The busiest and most painful day of the month in my line of work. Last Christmas I’d gotten into the arrangement of paying part of my rent after the 20th and never managed to catch up. Many of my tenants did the same, and I never held it against them. In this economy, the struggle to make ends meet is real. To make matters worse, I misplaced my notebook over the weekend. I ended up typing some of my poems and even writing a short story for a contest I heard about, just to get the thoughts out of my head. It’s like I can’t turn my mind off sometimes, even if I want to. I try to live a super clean lifestyle, for the baby. So this was like therapy for us.
Lindsay RussellPublished 3 years ago in FuturismAstro Cipher
"Shut up and just drive! If I were you, I'd be a little less concerned with the gun in my hand and more worried about who it is I'm running from, hunny. Or should I say what?" Her eyes went wide with tears, and she hit the gas pedal as hard as she could. Tires spinning, she felt the car pulling hard with the torque. He kept checking the rearview like he was expecting something to be behind them. She knew that there wasn't because they were out in the middle of the Mojave Desert in the middle of the night in the heat of the summer. Nothing lived long enough in the day here to be this far from civilization and still have it's life when night fell. The only thing she wondered really was how the heck he was this far out without a vehicle in sight and alive. What she knew from traveling through this region her entire life of thirty-two years, gave her enough insight as to know something was extremely awkward about that particular bit of information. The other interesting bit was clutched tightly between the thumb and all four fingers of her recently acquired passengers right hand with remnants of what appeared to be blood on the cover. A little black notebook. It was bound by a heavy thick leather which did not appear to be from a cow or any other animal she could recall. As far as the blood, it was obviously fresh, but to say it was his or someone else's was not something she was able to do. The first thing she noticed when he jumped in front of her car was the blood. She had thought she hit him and is still not sure that she didn't. When she had last looked at the clock on the radio, it was reading 11:34 p.m. His impact on the car jarred her awake and the time had read 1:11 a.m. She panicked because he'd come out of nowhere, and she didn't want to leave him for dead. Now, she wished that she had just kept going.
Star Besio-SharpPublished 3 years ago in FuturismCreated at Your Whim
“Here you go!” A white porcelain mug was gently placed on the polyurethane-coated walnut surface. They must’ve stared at the blank digital page since the time of order, absentmindedly listening to a playlist dubbed ‘Study Music’, in hopes that inspiration would guide their hand. Alas, they managed to divert their gaze to meet the waitress’s eyes. Their face turned an entire thirty degrees, in two dimensions, to settle their social obligation. Ostensibly satisfied, the waitress returned a light smile and continued making rounds across the room. Their fish-eyed gaze hovered momentarily before converging on the saturated steam emanating off the mug.
Joan Manuel Madera BaezPublished 3 years ago in FuturismCity of Refuge
Siren and Fletcher stood outside her old house. It had been months since she was dragged out by Reapers and taken to General Grant’s research compound.
Valerie RussellPublished 3 years ago in FuturismA Circle
There was once a girl with endless eyes and golden hair, and she was always hungry for more. She lived in a small town by the coast that was woken up by the calls of seagulls and lulled to sleep by waves crashing against the rocky shoreline. Her house stood perched on an overlook from which she could watch the sea to the East and the city to the West. She thought it a very lucky place to be, perfectly balanced.
The Time Capsule
There is nothing in everyday life to suggest that coming into a large sum of money could bring such an all consuming madness. He had been the one working that late night demolition job. Everyone else was suffering the realities of the pandemic. It very well could have been the teeth of an excavator pulverizing that forgotten time capsule into scrap.
Aaron AllenPublished 3 years ago in FuturismSide by Side
We all relate to the elements every day. Water, air, earth, and fire are inescapable. The zodiac divides people into elements and so we are related to an element by birth, no choice of our own. It’s strange how there are twelve zodiac signs and twelve months but they don’t align exactly. Is that by design? In order to understand this clearly, we need to embrace the idea that the symbols and the elements all “speak” to us. Looking at the symbol for each of the signs there are two parts to each symbol. These parts can be seen as opposites in a way. My sign, Aquarius, for example, has two wavy lines. It is also interesting that Aquarius is called the water bearer but is actually an air sign. Aquarius starts on January 20 and ends on February 19. For the longest time, I didn’t really feel like the Aquarius that every horoscope described. We’re called crazy, flighty, off the wall, stand-outish, loud, and anything but subtle. I suppose some of those can apply but not always and much more limited than imagined. So how can this be?
Elida DelunaPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Journal Noir
Pheona was always broke. But every day she woke up early in the morning and trudged the bus ride to work in order to survive. They never treated her well, even after a decade of hard work. Even now she didn’t work full time, and she had never received much of a pay raise either.
Mercedez BelangerPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Courier
“Thirty-second timer, set, the packet is in motion” Ricohn growled through my headset, cutting in through the soft radio static of the Hesseclaim Dispatch channel momentarily before he went quiet again.
Val FitzpatrickPublished 3 years ago in FuturismOne Drop
Gina stopped walking and stared down at her hand that was deep in her black PVC knee length jacket pocket. The rain streamed down her arm and tried to enter via her wrist but the tight fit stopped the droplets from doing so. Her phone had a crack down the side which would facilitate the demise of its function if any sniff of water was to enter. Now was not the time for such things. She dismissed the voice questioning her lack of focus to have already got it fixed as it had already been three months since it bounced down the stairs of her apartment building and into the wall. It was now ringing and she had to answer. Looking around Gina could see a doorway underneath a destroyed canopy which gave her just enough protection to answer the phone without it being drenched in the downpour. She ran over only just missing a car as it glided by on the road, the rain hitting the ground almost drowning out the whining of its electric motors. The front bumper banged the heel of her shoe as she landed on the pavement. She turned round to shout some obscenity but was too late to be heard and slammed into the wall with an explosion of air from her lungs. She looked in panic at her hand hoping she hadn’t damaged the phone in the collision. It was still vibrating. At least that was still working. Now in the doorway and huddled over in some vain attempt to provide a little more protection from the rain, Gina removed the phone from her pocket and slammed it into her head.
Mathew Hamilton GreenPublished 3 years ago in FuturismPer Ardua Ad Astra
The dying, silent embers of the brazier warded away the numbing chill of the rain’s malice, each drop rendered by the gentle glow of the flames parting the night. That rain was a serenade shared by despairing lost souls as it marred the decaying cobble walls and concrete towers of the city damp, echoing therapeutic sounds through every road and alley. Blurred streetlights caught rivers in the gutters of the cracked tar streets. This winter promised snow, it wouldn’t be long before the other vagabonds would drop like flies in the street succumbing to the unforgiving chill. Astra rubbed his gloved hands together as misty clouds rose from his mouth to meet the cold. His ragged, dust streaked coat barely kept him warm. The only real warmth came from the damp brown beanie, but even that was trivial. Tracks of rain divided his aged, hopeless face. Purple neon lights from the city barely pierced the night. But even in the dark, the Pillar of Ardua’s amber shone like a beacon, drawing the hopeful like moths to a flame. The tower was taller than the rest. It stared back with a knowing sympathetic glare. Launch was just three days away.
James PhillipsPublished 3 years ago in Futurism