Adventure

Jherica
Jherica walked along the Interstate Bridge alone; the sound of broken glass crunching beneath her steel toed boots echoing across the water, a gas mask on her face, and a Glock 17 pistol strapped to her hip. Every vehicle around her had their windows smashed and contents stolen ages ago. Graffiti covered the bridge- some childish, inappropriate words scrawled along the cars, while the words “THE PLANET IS DEAD” were repeated across the concrete. None of this bothered Jherica anymore. This is not the first time she crossed this bridge, and if everything goes as planned, it won’t be the last.
By Alanna Finnie5 years ago in Fiction
Desert Wilds
As the unchanging desert landscape rolled by, the wind blowing through Olimar’s hair did little to relieve him from the draining heat of the sun. Unlike the fully-furnished, well-shaded, two-story bus that their captors drove, the cramped wagon in which he and Joel were being towed had no roof over its cabin. He glanced around to see if they were anywhere close to the gang’s hideout and groaned when he found only mud and dust in all directions.
By Robert Bennett5 years ago in Fiction
The Lightning House
Dear Son, I hope this finds you well. It’s been a long time. I’m on an anthropological dig in Palenque, Mexico. There are rebels in the area, and we have been hearing gunshots from the forest at night. I'm afraid I might not be able to contact you for a while, but I love you and hope to see you again. You can find me in Quintana Roo. It’s a small town and I have no address. I live at Casa Relámpagos.
By Sickness and Heart5 years ago in Fiction
In Her Hips, I see Revolutions
Like a monk with prayer beads, her absentminded fingers rolled the tiny links of her small silver chain. Wrapped around her palm the necklace had become as much of a fixture as her fingers since she last saw her. The soles of her boots shifted inky ash and dust as she took a seat on the frame of a blown out window, high above the hollow city.
By Courtlen Beckett5 years ago in Fiction
Follow Your Sol
“Follow Your Sol.” Sarah ran her fingers over the engraving. She had read those words again and again over the last three years. There hadn’t been anyone to teach her to read; her mother said that written language was inefficient and caused confusion. Confusion led to conflict. And when she said conflict, she meant the end of humanity and the deaths of billions of good people. Reading was a relic of that lost world. Now they had to learn how to live in the new world. She didn’t know. She hadn’t lived it. All there was were stories.
By Sean Anderson5 years ago in Fiction
Of man
-As human beings we are born to die. All else in life has this certainty. Yet we seek to ask questions that have no further meaning. Or so we create words that try to extend the possibility of life. Man's creation of things tangible or non stems from his need to be accepted. By chance we evolved. But by fate we will fall. For if i was a wise man I'd swallow the fate the universe had provided me and become rot.-
By Zenos5 years ago in Fiction
Lost and Found
Shaun stands by an old pine-tree concealed behind its thick branches. He watches the other children playing in the tide. They splash, drenching each other’s clothes, and cackle at jokes he can't hear. He catches one thing, though, whispered amongst the group - the girl with the hazelnut hair is a mermaid.
By Rachel M.J5 years ago in Fiction
The Glint
From about fifty feet and slightly right, the glint caught his eye. He moved, slow, measured, and silent through the alley, towards it, as the shadowed pile he estimated as higher than he was tall, revealed itself for bodies.
By Joseph Bryan Henderson5 years ago in Fiction
The Power of Painting in Year 3000
It's the year 3000 and sheesh, did THAT escalate. Back before time travelling was part of the equation; the human race dealt with racial equality issues, global controversy, Jeff Besos and Elon Musk competing for world domination, white supremacy (but I guess that falls under racial equality issues) and people murdering each other for money. Nowadays if you’re human, you’re lucky to be alive and you fall under one category: the human race. The thing is, I was born in the age where humans caused problems for each other and through time travel along with a fated meeting I am now in year 3000 with a mission to save the human race. Before I get into the details of that I need to explain the current disposition of the world.
By Patrick Oleson5 years ago in Fiction
Submission
"Think Autumn, think!" There was no escaping the reality of her conditions. Trapped within the confines of the safety hatch within the restricted chamber, her mind raced furiously for answers. Why was it so important to come here? What indescribable draw of magnetism came from this room that she simply couldn't ignore? What fate awaited her if she was caught? And worst of all, what if she was never found? Everything seemed to culminate as hopelessness and fear began to encapsulate her psyche.
By Brian Williams5 years ago in Fiction
The last generation
They were born during the end. The last ever generation of children were taught at a young age that the world which had once been beautiful was now crumbling away at their feet. Parents desperately clung to their child knowing their life would be short lived. Schools still ran though, teachers tasked with trying to explain the impending doom away, trying to apologize for the world they had left behind.
By Chloe C5 years ago in Fiction
The grass was always greener on this side
The warm breeze brushes the tall California Grass and a flock of seagulls gracefully fly by, guided by the sudden change of weather. The last solar eclipse made the seagulls hesitate about starting their migration south at the beginning of fall. They pretty much predicted the absence of food by calling the others in their flock with their screeching chilling calling while challenging the others for territory. Their heads lowering crouched up and down, like yelling at someone-their ‘mewing’ was not as often as before. Maybe the neighbours cat is around, they’re telling the others a threat is around lurking in between the bushes. I noticed in the distance, some other flocks of what I thought were more seagulls, were not.
By Chacha Jaramillo5 years ago in Fiction