fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
The Inherent Danger of Finding a Thesis Project
If you hear a soft, high-pitched singing in the park at 6 am, you shouldn’t go towards it. And if you do go towards it, you definitely shouldn’t get within arm’s length of a bag with a disembodied singing voice. And if you do get that close, you should never ever touch it.
By Nychele Kemper6 years ago in Futurism
Perspective
Peter Gardner hung hopelessly bound up in the thick sticky webbing that surrounded him and his robot companion. The two of them had been hopelessly stuck in this chamber for the last hour and were discussing for the seventh time, how they had managed to get into this situation.
By Robert Rhoads6 years ago in Futurism
Marinus
⥈ 1 ⥈ The only ice in all of Marinus County floats and cracks in a tin cup on a wooden table belonging to Mr. Fenwick, in his half-shack half-cave on the coast near Sub Francisco. Soon the ice begins to melt, as a flotilla of villagers from the town nearby sets the home on fire. The people throwing torches from their boats believe Mr. Fenwick is responsible for the disappearance of a woman who had visited their town a week earlier, and they had come to chase the old fisherman out of their county.
By Marshall Jefferies6 years ago in Futurism
A Simple Exchange
Emerald smoke coiled lazily around the monster in Emmeline's closet. Peeking between trembling fingers, she could see that this monster wore fancy shoes. Unusual, but not unheard of. She took a quiet breath in and risked looking a little higher. She knew better than to look at its eyes - she was seven and a half years old, after all, and this wasn't her first closet monster - but there were no rules against looking at a monster's knees. At least, she hoped not.
By Kelsey Johnson6 years ago in Futurism
The Second Door
The god idly thinks on occasion that it might be next. Though what 'next' means, the god would not be able to say. Exhaling, the god sinks into the pose; the god's body is a cacophony of pain. A quilt work of suffering, angst and despair. People think being a god is easy, that you are omnipotent, that you don't feel pain, that you can do anything. None of that is accurate. The god exhales again, sinks deeper into the pose. The god is forever scanning the sensations in the body. The god exhales once more, relaxing even further into the pose.
By Shawn Ingram6 years ago in Futurism
Pay to Win
Sluggishly crawling on the floor of the narrow alleyway, I sit upright utilising the weathered dumpster for support. The light pitter-patter of the rain provides a soothing atmosphere, a relatively decent distraction from the excruciating pain of the puncture in my lower abdomen. Placing my hand over the wound in hopes that the applied pressure would slow down the bleeding. “Cat” I call out, a small cloud burst happens in front of me and a small cat-like creature appears “Aye sir?” Staring at him silently for a few seconds before asking “How bad is it?” “Unless you pay the price…I’d say about nine-minutes before you die.” In his usually emotionless eyes, I saw a look of not sadness but pity, “How much is it for a full recovery?” “fifteen-thousand.” “And a partial recovery?” “depends how long you want to prolong your time for.”
By Einreb Ortega6 years ago in Futurism
The Book
It was an idyllic summer night. Lilith looked out of the benchseat window of her bedroom in the attic of what used to be her Grandmother's house. The air was warm and sweet, the midnight blue sky was littered with stars and when the moon revealed itself from behind the passing clouds it was full and bright and felt like it was shining just for her. The breeze was cool as it gently caressed her falling tears. She didn't need a mirror to know that she had a black eye, a busted lip and clumps of hair missing. He had viciously beat her again and as usual he had locked her in here to think about what she had done to cause his "outburst".
By Mara Covet6 years ago in Futurism
