Fantasy
Dystopian Love Affair
A loud screeching awakened Runa, to find a crow on the broken part of the wall staring back at her, as if she weren’t supposed to be there. She could pretend that she wasn’t living in an abandoned and half destroyed castle, but the crow however wasn’t interested in her fairytales. Somehow amidst all the fear, chaos, and disaster, Runa found a corner of this crumbling castle to hide and live in. She used their fancy furniture that she found in the rubble. She had no food but sat on ornate and plush vanity chairs. All the fashions of antiquity had become new again just before the apocalypse. Runa wore the dresses she found in the rubble, so elegant and impractical, and somewhat destroyed. Runa was always home, not daring to go outside into what was still a very dangerous zone to tread.
By jennifer aiken5 years ago in Fiction
Dear Reader
Dear Reader, Whoever you are, I hope this finds you in a better situation than the one I am writing this in. I am writing for a couple of reasons. Firstly, if there is anyone still alive out there, or perhaps once humanity redevelops, there needs to be some sort of true account as to what really happened here. Not the account they will surely use. Secondly, I feel like I need to write, or do something, anything, if not just to hold onto the last threads of sanity that are keeping my psyche together.
By Kirstie Bruton 5 years ago in Fiction
A Tattoo in Saguenay
The boy shook her awake. “Gram,” he whispered, “Sun’s down.” She grasped for the dream, but it boiled off in the dark. “I made water,” the boy whispered, and she cracked an eye to his cupped palm and the dram of sweet urine rocking in its hollow. She worked her elbows in the sand to sit up, pushing through the sudden nausea of being alive. Still the day’s heat baked at ground level, even in the last rays of twilight. The elder guided her grandson’s hand. Dipping her upper lip in his bitterness, she rolled a sip round her tongue, spreading the moisture through her mouth. The boy watched until he was satisfied she could swallow.
By Brendan Norton5 years ago in Fiction
To Seek a Vampirate
It was the year 2127 and the locket was still all he had left of her. For years, Ezra Smith had opened the heart-shaped locket and stared at the picture of the two children it depicted, himself and his sister, Genevieve, “Jenny” to Ezra. Jenny would be about eighteen now, three years older than Ezra.
By Foster Joseph Sayers III5 years ago in Fiction
Planet Psi
Satori’s long claw shaped nails rapped anxiously on the car door as they pulled up to Vitus's Mansion. Her husband Aldrich got out, opening the door for her. The estate’s lead butler greeted them. “My Lord and Lady, please follow me with an urgency. Our King Etticus is in the study with Vitus now.”
By Renate Donaldson5 years ago in Fiction
Wasteland Locket
“Uggggh” I moaned loudly. Waking from my sleep. It had been a long night, the sun was beating down horrendous, I was thirsty, tired and ready to keep moving, I’d been in this town for too long and needed to keep moving, this desert town just wasn’t for me.
By John Dowdy5 years ago in Fiction
The Dome
July 3, 2140, 12:30 PM Today was weird. Earlier today, I found a small gold heart-shaped locket dangling half haphazardly between a sewage drain. Finding something like that was not a typical find for someone like me. I am, after all, a Lower District slug.
By Malaya Purvam5 years ago in Fiction
Vents
Viktor’s eyes bore naked into the blackness of his studio apartment, pierced by a sliver of light through the curtains. It was 3:12 AM and his restoration lozenges had worn off nearly two hours earlier than prescribed. His dose was already higher than normal and he had just traded his last doctor’s tickets three days ago for a four month supply of B-12 syringes. Overheating, he pried away his ear muffs to hear the distant low rumble of the state-sanctioned Kineticas. The monotonous throb echoed oscillated synths and a four-beat exasperation. Sounds engineered to satiate higher stress levels of the civilians who can’t afford restoration lozenges. They used to be called Discotekas before the incursion. The early morning time allotment was nearly over and the next one would begin at 7AM. Most of the civilians were prescribed ear muffs to accommodate for the incessant thumping across the Sector
By Brandon Gorrie5 years ago in Fiction
The City Warped by Tungsten Smoke
The city outside was covered in a thick coating of tungsten ash. From the moment Edelweiss was born, she could remember the burning sensation in her lungs as she breathed. Even a minute in the thick smog caused her to cough uncontrollably. Everyone did, but tungsten was a critical component of Spellcaster's Dust. So, mines dug further as the air turned greyer. She hustled through the meandering alleyways, deftly avoiding the black pits of stagnant water. "Let's see, last week, Lowlands Pier was north of Dyer Marsh, but I'd better check again." She shuffled past a pile of soiled handkerchiefs and across the uneven cobblestones to a tall rusted soot filter. A yellowing map lay plastered on its side. "Updated two days ago, perfect." It was only common sense to make sure the city hadn't moved. A phenomenon that regularly occurred due to the magical corruption of a spell reaching its half-life. Sure enough, the pier was now to the west of Dyer Marsh instead of north. She took off running.
By Mukena Addict5 years ago in Fiction
