Adventure

Another Sweltering Day
Another sweltering day. It isn’t like Val expected any different, it has been the same miserably hot and dry weather for the last three years, but it did not stop her from longing for a simple breeze of cool air or any break from the heat. Val pulled up her hood to protect her fair skin, she had learned from her past mistakes, she never wanted to experience another blistering sunburn again. Then she pulled on her mask and pushed open the heavy metal door. Unfortunately, it was time for her to leave the place she had considered home for the last twelve months. It was time to carry out her grandmother's plan to rebuild a safe haven for the survivors.
By Rose Chester 5 years ago in Fiction
A touch through time and space
He scanned the brownish gray, dusty, flat expanse around him as he walked. Looking for anything notable, any landmarks. Shifting spirits of wind given form by dust and grit seemed to reflect a listlessness. Buildings, flattened, molding from water damage and exposure against a dim sky with the night’s stars still visible from the lack of competing light. The former abodes and businesses were like big crushed cardboard boxes. There was so much nothing stretching into the distant reaches, but this was once a fairly decent sized village. He mentally switched to foraging mode. He wasn’t sure if it was something he was imagining but it felt like he could mentally, no, just feel where there was something worth finding. Maybe it was his imagination trying to keep him sane, but he had no system to his foraging methods and a fairly high success rate. It was as if by being alone, some unseen tendrils of psychic need for more sensory stimulation reached out, established a new way to cope with a bleak and wasted world. Or maybe it was just delusions of grandeur.
By Daniel Wisniewski5 years ago in Fiction
The Adventures of Jot the Carnet
Once in a far away land there was a tiny little creature called the carnet and his name was Jot. The carnet was a very beautiful and majestic creature that not many people had ever had the pleasure of seeing before. The reason this Carnet was so allusive is because it lived in the swampy haunted Forrest of Spirales. Spirales was a foreboding place filled with darkness and certain death to all that entered its depths. Now this particular carnet was not like the rest, he was very friendly and curious and that made his friends and family very unhappy, you see carnets are supposed to be the evil creatures that protect Spirales from the rest of the world. One day Jot decided to go for a walk in the swamp and talk to the trees; as he was walking near the edge of the forest he heard an unusual noise that peaked his interest. He walked all the way to the edge of the trees to peak out to see if he could see what was making this strange noise. He peered through the fog and to his surprise he found a two legged creature stumbling straight toward him! Jot had only ever heard stories about the two legged creatures his parents had told him about called humans. Humans were supposed to be extinct due to the sun exploding a few years ago and turning earth into a desolate place where only the magic creatures could survive. Jot knew he should go for help and leave the weary human to the grown ups but with every whimper and cry of the human, Jot became more curious as to how it had survived the fallout.
By Kari N Reynolds5 years ago in Fiction
Every Poison has an Antidote
In the decades that followed earth's annihilation the earth's wildlife regained its control growing wild and feral, climbing through the tall buildings that stood still made of granite and metal, stone and concrete. Alida was adept at climbing, and moving from beam to beam, with very little light to guide her way. Often she lost her footing and found herself in a concrete building watching for those Mansters that often took refuge there. She had vague memories of her mother telling her warning stories of the Mansters, formerly men, who like the wildlife turned feral their bodies mutating in death, traveling through the wilderness groaning over the fate preying on the alone.
By InkGalaxies~5 years ago in Fiction
Hell on earth
Hell on earth By Jayson Johnston Part 1 Oh how times have changed I say as I look into my backyard. I never thought this life would be attainable for me. A tear rolls down my eye as I slowly open the door to "my" mansion. The smell of smoke from the car fires fills the air as I step outside. I hear the groans from what used to be humans before the devil rose up and started a revolution. He decided it was time for us mortals to suffer. He chose mainly those of us devoted to god to turn into his disgusting foul demons. Being an atheist I was one that was not affected by such a curse. Although I'm not sure I'm much better off. The world is in shambles. The government crumpled and gave into the will of lucifer. So chaos reigns. There are no laws and only one goal. Survive. My name is Alex. I'm 24 and I'm on a mission to stop Lucifer's plan to completely overthrow the earth. How you might ask. By traveling to hell and finding a way to kill the bastard. Part 2
By Jayson Edward Johnston5 years ago in Fiction
Sensorium
Day 456… Or is it night? It must be his mind playing tricks on him, he can’t have been here this long. A young man pushes himself up from the hard, dusty ground upon which he had been sitting. It’s uneven and as he struggles to his feet, he almost stumbles back over again, slicing the inside of his finger on thickly woven brambles beside him. If he were to be honest with himself, the man still hadn’t figured out where ‘here’ is. A sigh of frustration leaves his lips as he realises that the tally marks in the mud, the ones he thought he had been logging, the only thing that had been helping him keep track of how long he has been there have seemingly vanished.
By Outrageous Optimism 5 years ago in Fiction
A Tale Tail Heart tale no.3
Bogran looked in his rearview mirror spotting one bogie on his tail, and another taking a shortcut in order to cut him off at the next intersection, but he was used to riding through the crosshairs and considered himself a rider with rare talent for evasion during active conflict. He had torn through the Karni border crossing on his Ducati when the noise from Mossad indicated a bombing would take place, and consequently only six Israelis were killed. Again, he had torn through the streets of Gaza sometime later with three little kids on the back of his motorcycle as he got them safely out of harm’s way while bombs were dropping on beaches and on hospitals. That was personal. He had a thing for their Nasrani mother. The point was, he knew how to ride through a war zone and two Comic-Con wannabes from the Neo-Yamnayan military police were nothing to shake off.
By CK Henson Hayes5 years ago in Fiction
Mother
It's different than we once imagined it would be. It is not a desert, it doesn't look like mars, and there are no crumbling buildings. The sky is a light emerald color, not grey or black. There are so many animals. Everywhere you look, life seems to be flourishing. With one exception... there are no humans.
By Mandolyn Leader5 years ago in Fiction
Hunger
The air was stale and wretched. The scent of decay clung to his nostrils like rotten fruit. This was surprisingly a good sign as it helped hide their own stench. They had not been able to bathe for several days now and they were determined to not have the game they were tracking be aware of them.
By Mark Tomczyk5 years ago in Fiction
Love is Long and Deathly
The kid crested the hillside at night with the fires of the city flickering over his shoulder and the screams of people fading in the distance. He sifted through the darkness with his hands outstretched. It was a void he could not be birthed from. Branches grazed his face and neck and entangled his tattered clothes. He became so lost and without hope that there were times he would sit on his knees and place his head in his hands. Often tears came. He felt above his eye and found something sticky between his fingers. He brought it to his lips and tasted his blood. He wiped his sleeve across the cut and moved about in the darkness.
By Kincaid Jenkins5 years ago in Fiction
A Keeper and Giver of Moments
Life is procedural. So are films. So is filmmaking. Life is growth. The addition of time and chance and action and lessons. Life is small. And big. Fleeting and monumental. Fast and slow. Life is yesterday. Life is today. Life is tomorrow. Life is many things. Most of all, to me, life is all about the picture at the end. Moments and circumstances are pixels and puzzle pieces; only beautiful as a complete ensemble. That’s why we watch films. We get to see totality. A complete circle. In my creative journey, I am seeing a circle about to complete – my passion for storytelling through filmmaking is becoming a possibility. I first fell in love with films. Then I learned how to write thoughts. Then I learned how to write poems. Then I learned how to write songs. Then I learned how to tell stories. Then I learned how to take photographs. Then I learned how to communicate and work with a creative team. Then I learned how to paint. Then I learned how to write scripts. Then I realised that in all of this – I had learned how to make films. Life is procedural. So are films. So is the creation of a filmmaker.
By Azuoma Obikudu5 years ago in Fiction
The Taken Road
Tirah pulled in a harsh breath through her mask, back pressed against a ruined brick wall coated with soft black moss. The sky was darker than usual for this time of day, acid-green clouds bright with lightning drifting across the grey like a veiled threat. Gods-damned Gildeds, staining the sky with the foul pollution that spewed from their precious Domes!
By Monica Shortell5 years ago in Fiction