Sci Fi
Nalah's Toy
Nala’s Pet The first time I awoke to the smell of burnt flesh. My own. I tried to catch a glimpse, but my eyes wouldn’t focus. I blinked again, but a solution was covering my eyeballs, not tears. Something sticky. My blood oozing out of my eyes and mouth. I swallowed. Felt it run down my throat. This is bad. Very bad. I turned my head just in time to catch sight of a drone hovering over my body, screeching like a cat with its tail caught. The whole place was bathed in piercing white light. Like you’d been looking toward the sun, when it sears the back of your skull, makes you see spots. I saw something move toward the foot of the bed. A Squid -like alien. Never saw one before. But this one was floating in air, legs barely touching the floor. Hovering. And worse, there were four tentacle-like arms moving this way and that, applying some goop to my legs. As I raised my head up, our eyes met. I swear the squid smiled. Damn thing smiled right at me.
By James McMechan5 years ago in Fiction
The Beacon
Em woke to the light, as always. She got to her feet shakily, reassessing her surroundings. Nothing new. Grey skies tinted by the constant falling of ash all around. The ground was cracked and warm to the touch, red-brown rock and clay for miles in each direction.
By Raistlin Allen5 years ago in Fiction
The Robotics Team
Breathing deeply and with a dryness in his throat, Thomas paused only briefly while climbing the outside stairs up to his 5th floor coop apartment. The air quality has become worse with the increase in heat and humidity. Most of the time the oxygen is at incredibly low levels and doing simple tasks are difficult to perform. For some five flights of stairs might sound like a lot, but Thomas is young and in his prime teenage years when a boy should be hopping up the stairs two at a time trying to beat his previous record in time. Sadly, these are not the days of teenagers roaming aimlessly through the streets after school, but instead everyone that can work must work. School is not a priority any longer and neither is teenage angst or antics. One would think that after the great technological revolution and the social revolution that followed in the new millennium that the most productive and relaxing years for human civilization would be upon us.
By Christina Atkinson5 years ago in Fiction
The Bone Trees
Marriane woke to the wind whistling through the bone trees. See when trees died, sometimes they left their skeletons behind, branches reaching into the heavens, paused where they had been when the tree finally gave out. The wind rushing through them made eerie noises as if they spoke through the night.
By Jessica Lewis 5 years ago in Fiction
Mortal Fragments
The year is 2052. The human condition has been ripped from the inhabitants of planet Earth. Wildlife has ceased to exist, and humanity has undergone a huge shift in understanding their own mortality. We knew it was coming, but we could never have predicted the extent to which our lives would be irreparably altered. Forgive me for the scientific babble that comes next, but you need to understand exactly how this happened so you may be able to prevent it happening again.
By Jason Mac Nicol5 years ago in Fiction
Mortal Fragments
The year is 2052. The human condition has been ripped from the inhabitants of planet Earth. Wildlife has ceased to exist, and humanity has undergone a huge shift in understanding their own mortality. We knew it was coming, but we could never have predicted the extent to which our lives would be irreparably altered. Forgive me for the scientific babble that comes next, but you need to understand exactly how this happened so you may be able to prevent it happening again.
By Jason Mac Nicol5 years ago in Fiction
WHEN NOTHING HAPPENED
The far end of Megan’s street had been disappearing for the last week. She had decided to ignore it. To the east there was a sunny day, rows of neat suburban houses and picket fences under green and shady trees. To the west, the creeping nothingness.
By Fiona Hamer5 years ago in Fiction
The Selected
“Dusk in nearly upon us,” slices my father’s commanding voice, through the balmy, mid-summer air. I perceive a quickening in the movements surrounding me and a tangible escalation of anticipation. Is it excitement they feel? We were getting closer, and tonight would have been the night. Our first significant contact. Deep within my belly, I feel nothing but dread, as time drags toward the moment he will realize. I have sabotaged it all.
By Cara Sharp5 years ago in Fiction
Thank You Mike McKenna
Thank you, Mike McKenna. You don’t remember but I am the kid you went to junior high school with. You know, the one with the horned-rimmed glasses taped in the middle. A bowtie hooked to the top of the shirt. The plastic protector in the pocket. The kid who shuffled to class with a briefcase. Yeah, that one. The goofball. The savant. The idiot. The one you whispered about and pointed at. The one who you snuck up behind and stuffed a towel smeared with feces halfway up my nostrils. “Hey, shit head, sniff this!” You laughed. I am that kid.
By James McMechan5 years ago in Fiction
