science fiction
The bridge between imagination and technological advancement, where the dreamer’s vision predicts change, and foreshadows a futuristic reality. Science fiction has the ability to become “science reality”.
A Magical Warrior, her Destiny, and a Saphire that held the Seven Seas
Oldensfleur blooms were so fragrant and always reminded Selvexa of home by the sea. Selvexa woke to the strong scent of Oldensfleur. They came in from the small vecht windows in the hall and were a gift from the Highst Generals, considered valuable and given only to Priestesses in the Breeders sechtr of Oldenlight Clan. Feeling a heavy fog from the potent elixir she took for sleep, the smell She knew roused her awake, always for some reason, that aroma also made her feel sad. She didn't know why and that drove her mad. She tried to avoid the urge to tip her nose up and inhale deeply, the heady scent reminiscent of her beloved sea. She failed to resist, inhaled, then a sad smile, because she could only feel a loss she didn't understand. That emotion brought unbridled anger that always took her thoughts to a darker place, like the one she was in now.
By Susan Hoeflich5 years ago in Futurism
The Greatest Of These, Is Love
“The necessity of time, and all matters of time, which, The Creator, in his infinite wisdom, saw fit to create for the white man, indeed to burden the white man--The Creator, being gracious to the black and brown man, left them in their pure state-- without the obvious burden of time,” Harry Wutherford James V pontificated, closing his mouth, (careful to exclude his teeth) enveloping the genital orbitrator of Jose, the James’ family ace of all trades, on long-shambled purely rotten, Tequesta Estate.
By QueenJeht Matous5 years ago in Futurism
The River Jordan
J. R. Elam, from the Roth-Millian Empire boardroom, clicks a remote ending broadcast transmission. Elam’s shoulders pivot to face the board of executives. Raising his right hand to forehead, the executives mirrored the master in unison exclaiming “Luceat lux in tenebris, et regnabit in folium ex rosa est,” shortly before exiting the room. Rising in stern like motion, Elam with an overly elongated gate walks to the widely encased window overlooking the cityscape before him. “In society’s two-thousand-year dance of the seven veils,” he remarks privately, “today a new dance is reborn of Apis, to render Babylon’s former premier apex of inequity. Do they [civilians] know of the greatness that is above and below is finally here?”
By EV Andrews5 years ago in Futurism
Linkless
The less you know someone, the better, apparently. Things can get confusing when you share an Exchange with friends or family, or awkward if something embarrassing crops up. Better to leave the memory of an Exchange in blissful, blurry anonymity. And that’s exactly what these parties were designed to do.
By Bonnie Robinson5 years ago in Futurism
Enter the Laag
Tsiñu walked down the dark cement hallway. He was the last of the recruits to pass through intake, his head shaved bald, his naked body hosed down. The sting of sterilization powder still clung to his skin underneath the gray jumpsuit. That was the last step—he was now ready for the Laag.
By David Schmidt5 years ago in Futurism
Suneater
I was awakened by the sound of hissing, but I could barely hear it over the ringing in my head. With some difficulty, I managed to convince my eyes to open. There was a person in front of me, distorted and twisted. The man’s skin was shades of blue, purple and white. There were ice droplets attached to his eyelashes, and ice encrusted his cheeks and chest hair. The fear the image shot through my veins was quickly overtaken by a sharp pain in my chest.
By Jayson Knapp5 years ago in Futurism
LOST AND FOUND
Lorraine’s father drank Earl Grey tea because Captain Picard drank it on Star Trek. Now, she drinks it because it reminds her of him, the man who, years ago, had pulled her from a burning building with bare hands- eyes wild and swimming, and that inexplicable strength of terror that seemed to surprise both of them. He was gone now, her father. Trampled to death under a thousand fleeing feet, just squashed denim, an unburied streak and shattered eyeglasses.
By Tim Oakley5 years ago in Futurism
New Hope
From Mal’s Diary June 3, 3150 To exist within oneself outside oneself is to return to the essence of the universe; To return to the stars, or what we call heaven. But this is also what I call death... one that muddles the soul in primordial thoughts. Maybe this entity—death—is our true soul; Our true nature, laughing at darkness and inviting pain: The murderer of our illusionary selves. Heaven—true paradise —is to escape from the primal, where the truth can be found. It is not what they tell us, nor is hell what they tell us. Instead, We’re the refugees sent from it—Earth is the paradise we seek. The specs of glitter that float above us mask their danger with beauty. Beneath such is the Dark Forest—and my entry into 4th dimensional space time has lit a fire amongst the trees. They’re already close. Time. If only we had more time. Whoever is reading this letter at this very moment…Mankind’s future rests in my locket. Find the locket, and prepare to run…
By Jaelan McCoud5 years ago in Futurism
The Incident
You would think by now I would be used to the routine. The stealth like maneuvers to conceal ourselves, timed down nearly to the second. The painfully slow navigations we took to find the safe and hidden spots to rest, knowing fully well that we would only have a short time to allow our eyes to remain closed. The constant need for movement was evident, as if we were the actual blood within our own veins, pumping endlessly to keep the very core of our ourselves going.
By Bridget Black5 years ago in Futurism
The Neon Pit
The sun was casting shadows of the decaying buildings out onto the warm water front. The sound of crickets and frogs already singing their melody in the tall, dancing grass as the city slept silently. Each sky scraper was covered with moss and their windows either broken or were gone. Some had fallen over, some slumped against one another, or some were just standing skeletons of aged steel or thinning wood. There was a gentle whistle when the breeze passed through hollowed cars and cooed over street signs. The streets had flourished into a tall, waving grassy field. It turned from bright, healthy green to near black the sun hid behind the buildings. The car’s silhouettes stretched down the streets till they swallowed the entire street. Darkness had now awoken now that night has arrived. A street lights flickered to life, glowing florescent purple down over a bus stop. The next block, the next street light flickering on, being a dull green. The next light was crimson red. As the next light flickered on to be neon blue, the blaring noise of a storm siren rose obnoxiously louder. The noise echoed through the streets, closer; it vibrated broken glass and trembled water in the streets. The eerie, ear bleeding noise had awoken the city.
By Marshell Harris5 years ago in Futurism
A dune buggy of memories
A dune buggy travels through the streets filled with debris. Debris from cars that have not made it to their destination. In those cars charred remains of people who failed to get there. Ash filled the air all you can see is gray for miles. And that runs into a gray horizon. The vehicle does its job with its huge puncture free tires rolling over the remains of what seemed to be a neighborhood with pets and families. It is a mere shell of what it once was…alive. The man driving is unrecognizable in a gas mask to protect him from the toxic air. Military gear from head to toe as his boots hits the accelerator to get the buggy over multiple cars on this road of decay. As he is slowed down you see red eyes peer through the cloud of ash. Shadows seem to be gaining on the buggy. The man sees their approach as red eyes appear to have gained on him to his right sprinting atop of the houses next to him. He reaches to his passenger seat and pulls out a multiple barreled weapon with a revolving chamber. The green light from his weapon giving the user the aim he needs to make his shot. He pulls the trigger. The back fire makes him swerve as his target disappears behind an explosion. The growling is still coming as the red eyed creatures are still in the rearview. He knows that he has to get these red eyed creatures off his tail as he is coming to his destination. As his GPS alerts him by showing a blink hologram of location as it is to his final spot. He must get rid of them now!
By Peter G Hornbuckle5 years ago in Futurism
