Fantasy
Surface Area
Afternoon, July 14, 2022 Plink plinkity plink. Bits of gravel and dust fall onto my head, roll down my neck and shoulders and drop some 100 feet below me. My entire body is dripping with sweat, my bare shoulders and neck collect the dust into a grit-filled mud. Dust and grit and mud, things I hate with a loathing usually reserved for murderers and thieves. Little did I know that this would be a trivial problem compared to my new reality. I was about to discover a stark reality of barrenness and emptiness on the “surface” of what is now the earth and would soon exist below my “surface." I would soon realize, deep inside my core, at a depth I have never examined, that I was truly alone.
By Karlo Asko 5 years ago in Fiction
Dear Diary
October 14, 77 P.C. Dear Diary- This morning, like many others, I took the mountain path before sunrise. Climbing the mountain, I cautiously hoped today would be the day he would come back for me. Days are long when you are waiting for someone. Walking this path up the mountain I always think back to his last words to me, “I’ll come back for you.” Breathing lightly to minimize effects of the miasma clinging to the treacherous path, I seek beauty in this gray world. I am grateful for the thin air, at this altitude it maximizes the length of outdoor exposure. Conditions permitting, I often visit this high vantage point at dawn or dusk. The palate of my existence is so gray, even a momentary reprieve is sublime. Perched upon my rock high above the bunker facing east, I wait, keeping my breath shallow, keeping my eyes to the horizon.
By Alex Rangel5 years ago in Fiction
Dinner with the Orwells
The fist hammering against our door sounds muted from where I hide in a hollowed-out wall behind my mom’s massive china cabinet. The voice that follows is harsh but muffled, so even the staccato authority of a Federal Citizen Protectorate officer is difficult to understand. What’s never hard to interpret, though, is the overt threat that even an eighth grader like me understands.
By Rich Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Out of Time
Elizabeth had heard stories of the days before the event. People lived and worked in towers made of glass, and traveled in machines that had polluted the air. They had grown arrogant, convinced that they were superior to the beasts that roamed the Earth, and yet, when the vampires emerged, their weapons and vehicles failed them. The world, as it was known then, ended in less than a week, and yet many said that what had taken it’s place was better.
By Kevin Bohan5 years ago in Fiction
Falling from Grace
The crystal clear waters barely lapped at my unclothed feet, and the place seemed to be frozen in the Dawn of the Morning. Light blue hues crested the gentle surrounding clouds, and the mist before me faded as the Golden Gate shined brightly before me, as if to welcome me home. The Gate was a lot taller than I expected... I had to crane my neck backwards, and even then I couldn't see the top of it. Did giants cross this threshold too, I wondered silently with a small snicker. The Gate creaked as it slowly opened, unaided, allowing me entry and beckoning me to enter. No one was here. Wasn't there supposed to be a Gatekeeper? Where was the fabled St. Peter? Shrugging, I slipped inside, and the Gate slammed shut as the metal clang of finality echoed around me. I blinked as the fog surrounding the Gate dissipated. Looking around, I saw the vast beauty and light hues of the rainbow in the immediate area, and yet, still I was refused a greeting by anyone. No St. Peter, no Angels, nothing. I began walking, in hopes that I might find someone to talk to. There had to be someone here, right? The gentle clouds clustered around my feet like dust, coming up in small swirls and attempting to attach themselves to my ankles in desperation, if only to be washed away by the rising tide below. The clear waters nearly covered my feet now, I noticed. Still, it was calming.
By DarkRandall5 years ago in Fiction
The Gift of the Unborn
On the brink of some undefinable moment, on the banks of the Outer Curl, Neu Scoutsland, before a small audience of villagers, Hugh Reãl commanded his rare & beautiful calf to once again perform its magical act; and, as all subservient creatures must when they are instructed by invocations & demands, the calf obliged.
By Clint James5 years ago in Fiction
War for the Outside Locket
Feeling like you’re about to collapse is extremely inconvenient when you’re running for your life… and all of humanity. It all began with a 50-year long war, then betrayal, and now this. This metal, cold, heavy, heart-shaped locket I held was the key to everything we could have ever hoped for. A war was fought for it one hundred years ago. Well, we didn’t know that part until the war was over. Then the real war began. Our livelihoods were destroyed for what we thought was freedom, but now we are learning that we were all greatly deceived. They wanted us to destroy ourselves so they could take over. “How much longer are these guys gonna chase us?” Mel was clearly winded, too. She could barely breathe, and I began seeing stars. I was fading fast. “Mel, I think I’m gonna pass out.” Mel was determined. “Just keep pushing, we’re almost there!” I fished the locket out of one of the pockets on the inside of my jacket and suddenly felt nauseous; the adrenaline was gone, but we couldn’t afford to give up. “Mel! Take it!” Mel was indignant. “What? No!” My vision went blank and I felt my knees crash into the earth below me. I stuck my arm out to brace myself but it was of no help.
By Olivia Bledsoe5 years ago in Fiction
Escape from Hab Two
Doomsday Diary – With a dart to his left Jericho slid on the heel of his foot through the wet mud crouching squarely behind one of the larger oak tree stumps that made up the old Nottingham Forest. Even though he didn’t need to take a breather per se he still wanted a couple of seconds to collect himself and plan his next move. The pursuers behind him had electric bikes so were faster on open ground and were tracking him with Hab Two’s fleet of observation and battle drones. At the very edge of his hearing he could detect them even now making their way through the forest towards him, relentless.
By Alex Herron5 years ago in Fiction
