literature
Science fiction's most popular literary writers from Isaac Asimov to Stephen King and Frank Herbert, and the rising stars of today.
No Place Like Home
No Place Like Home [Chapter 1] by Rob Nelson Nurse Jean walked with confidence and poise, the soles of her shoes quietly touching the surface of the floor. Her duties are virtually stress-free due to the latest technology available to modern science.
By Rob Nelson3 years ago in Futurism
Focused Crazy
What’s he even doing? Bettie Jo sneered inwardly. She stared over at the boy kicking his feet against the traffic barrier in a slow rhythm. Then he’d stop suddenly and look up, kick a little faster picking up the tempo while waving his arms. Catching bugs in the air. Bugs only he could see Bettie Jo thought.
By Scott Smith3 years ago in Futurism
The Man Who Dreamt of Abundance
"Charles . . ." An unknown voice whispers to him as the darkness of closed eyes gives way to openness and light. 'What is that voice,' he thought, 'I've never heard anything like that.' The tone was smooth, low, compassionate, wise, and unavoidably irresistible to heed. "Hello?" uttered Charles. "Who are you? What is this place?"
By Luke Crawley3 years ago in Futurism
Little Black Book
As he pulled his cruiser over, he thought, “This is gonna be bad.” He took a deep breath, exhaled, and got out. The front of the car was accordioned against the tree. A head, half crushed, stuck through the windshield. The blood was a slow drip onto the shattered safety glass. No spurting, the man was dead. It seeped through the craquelured shards and glinted ruby in the headlights, strangely beautiful.
By Tracy Mayne3 years ago in Futurism
Slug and Salamander
Slug and Salamander By: Isaac Francis The streaks of water run down my cheeks and tickle my nerves with its cold, slimy hands. My head jerks to the left as I gasp for air and jerk back to the right. My feet are also fluttering. Everything moves in sync without a thought as to how to achieve each motion perfectly. The calm cycle of it all keeps my whole sense of thinking at ease. No care in the world. Suddenly, I hear a distorted ring of a bell. Springing up like a coil, I fly out the water, and the sun bathes me in light. My body shines with details of a muscular build. The water drip gives the sensation of oiling. I walk over to the locker room, and the heat splashes against my skinny body. As if I am cold, I shrivel when walking towards my lock door.
By Isaac Francis3 years ago in Futurism
Changes from Clay
Clay eyes opened, and the golem looked across the sedan. Its maker was smiling, then the woman glanced in the rear-view mirror. The brown curls all bound in the bun atop her head were white at their roots, but the tips were gold. She held a leather case on her lap and wore a knit emerald cardigan, a floppy fisherman’s cap, and black sunglasses. Her lips were pursed with impatience.
By Cade Losey3 years ago in Futurism