Sci Fi
And It Was Beautiful
The sky beams fuchsia. The sun beats like a heart. Willows weep roses. Pale shades of pink scatter through long strands of cotton candy-colored grass as they stroke against my skin. My body lends into the earth, still soft from the daily New Earth Agrituals.
By sleepy drafts5 years ago in Fiction
Widow's Mite
The markets, if you could call them that, were in a state of ramshackle decay. The thoroughfare of shops was once a lovely center of commerce in small-town America, but now was a dusty collection of wooden planks and tattered canvas. Miles away, through the low-hanging clouds, the lights of the colossal towers leered and lorded with pompous stillness.
By Connor Caughman5 years ago in Fiction
Graphene Hearts
Clicking another X1 round into my antiparticle pistol, I drew one final breath of xenon-laced smoke before flicking embers from my fingertips. The rosy fireflies danced along the dreary, blackened room and were at once silent. I exhaled red-tinged smoke, setting my claustrophobic surroundings aglow. I feigned a smirk as I tapped the circular ring fixed at my nape, and a familiar bombastic voice stunk inside my cerebral cortex:
By Daniel Lokovich5 years ago in Fiction
Nuclear Change
My stomach dropped the moment I saw the aftermath. I'd always heard about what a nuclear bomb does to cities. I'd seen the pictures from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Buildings leveled, people burned to death, barely any trace of humanity left. But it wasn't until I came back that the damage truly sunk in. Ash covered the ground. Every building I'd grown up by was gone. I knew that I was probably absorbing radiation the longer I stayed there, but I didn't care. My city was gone. My home, my neighbors, my family. I was the only one left.
By Jamie Lammers5 years ago in Fiction
HIGHRISE SKYLINE
The battered motor struggled to carry a rusted boat and its passenger over the outskirts of what used to be Fort Lauderdale, a concrete swamp abandoned by the corporate conglomerate that once governed it after pushing the federal government out of the southeastern states, the US losing around half their now perpetually contested land in identical fashion. The rest of south and central Florida generally suffered a similar fate as the Atlantic Ocean continued to devour the state, driving away corporate interest. Still, first counts for something, capable of withstanding the cloud of toxic spores engulfing the dilapidated ruins, mutated alligators densely populate nearly every block. The traveler locks his gaze on 4 solar-powered air boats buzzing north into the decrepit city, each carrying a duo of Riptide reclamation officers, every one of them equipped appropriately, breathable Nanokevlar armor leading up to a lightweight, corporate-grade alloy filtration helmet, the dome outfitted with a heads up display detailing vitals and environmental info, everything marked with their signature tsunami logo. The traveler’s helmet was nearly opaque from condensation. He’ll be lucky to make it through without heat stroke. A functional A/C is typically standard in even the cheapest filtration units, popular after 2064 saw the climate’s true point of no return. Unfortunately, the edentate merchant in Orlando failed to supply or mention this basic component before charging full price and vanishing promptly.
By Chris Conway5 years ago in Fiction
The Artifact
August handled the artifact carefully. It was ancient, delicate and cool to the touch. She had been drawn to this particular piece for reasons unknown, and she thought about it day and night since the first moment she saw it. She instinctively knew it was somehow a precious commodity indicative of her ancestor’s proclivity toward an elusive emotion they used to refer to as love. She had read about love in the old, wood-pulp artifacts, had wondered about love from time to time, but had never felt love, of course. She had a curious nature toward the intangible, which made her good at her assignment. She explored each item she encountered with fresh, inquisitive eyes and had been able to assess the value of many items that others would have cast aside as something ancient humans referred to as junk.
By Michele A. Hubbs5 years ago in Fiction
The City is Mine
I picked up a piece of metal from the ground and examined it. It came from an old car, long forgotten. I thought it might have been bright red once, but now it was riddled with rust and holes so I couldn’t be sure of its original color. I tossed the metal into the woven sack in my other hand. It clanged loudly with the rest of the junk in the bag, sending echoes around the crater to my right. I glanced around and I let out a short puff of air when no one appeared. I was still alone. I rolled my eyes at my stupidity as I picked up another scrap of metal and gently placed it in the bag.
By Annalisa Vivona5 years ago in Fiction
Soulmates
The object had two components: a long thin chain attached at both ends to a geometrically shaped thing around the size of her thumb. It was made of metal, but Lana wasn’t certain what kind. Of course, finding that out was the whole point of her job. She took it to the metals station and began the usual tests.
By Rachel Lee5 years ago in Fiction
Verago
“It will all be over soon,” my brother Roan assures me, giving my hand a squeeze. I do my best to give him a convincing smile in response, but the truth is, my heart is beating in my chest, slamming against my rib cage like it’s ready to escape. And my heart isn’t the only thing that feels claustrophobic, I realize as I scan the rest of the dining hall. Although this facility is all that I’ve ever known, the prospect of leaving here for something else, anything else, fills me with a yearning that makes me want to claw at the white walls surrounding us.
By Kora Greenwood5 years ago in Fiction
