Tag Archives: sci-fi

Glass #writephoto

glass

Photo by Sue Vincent

Jay looked across the lake at the distant mountain. Nothing was moving over the glassy water.

Good.

He slipped the kayak into the water, stepped in placing his little backpack on the floor between his legs, and pushed off. After a couple of hard paddles to get the boat’s momentum up, he relaxed into a routine of gentle, quiet, yet efficient strokes.

Silent. That was the key word. Didn’t need anyone to hear, and there were a lot of ears, not to mention the Guardian.

After several minutes, Jay glanced back. The kayak created a small wake as it sliced through the smooth water. Eddies swirled where his paddle had pushed the water back, propelling his tiny craft. The shore was receding, but still near, too close. There was no movement, his theft had yet to be discovered. Continue reading

Final Battle

I enter a corridor. It is a trap. I know it is, and they know that I know.

A quick scan revels nothing. There are no obvious explosives, no beams or triggers, nothing. Innocent.

I move slow, slow and methodical.

There is a book that talks about moving to blend in with nature so your footsteps cannot be detected, to mimic the wind across the sand. What can I mimic as I feel my way down the giant spaceship’s most important corridor? And yet I know my movements stay below that ½ decibel over background that is so important.

A door. Closed. Locked.

I know I can enter, but at what cost?  I would lose time and make a racket.

I scan as well as possible, yet I can’t tell if the room behind is occupied, there isn’t enough data.

I think for a tenth of a nanosecond and move on. I wouldn’t forget that the door was there, a potential enemy, a menace. Continue reading

Early Man

Mammoth

It was a gorgeous day. The sky was that dark blue that is reserved for only the nicest of autumn days. A herd of deer foraged in the meadow overlooking the glacial stream. The clear water of the stream sparkled like diamonds in the warm sun. Birds flitted back and forth, from one shrub to the other. In the distance the dark green blur of the boreal forest could be made out in the distance.

How could anyone be unhappy on such a day?

But Dr. Stevens was unhappy; very unhappy.

“A few measly thousand years for the first ones to arrive from Asia, but I arrived early,” he muttered. “Too early. And…”

Through the voice of the rushing water and the singing of the birds Dr. Stevens heard and felt a deep rumble. He sighed and turned to look, knowing what he’d see.

The herd of mammoth were on the move again, once more trampling over the remains of his destroyed time machine.

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I wanted inspiration for a new story, so I picked an old drawing at random. Here it is :)

Out of Place – Chapter 3

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Note – in June I posted the first two chapters of this story (See Chapter 1.  See Chapter 2).  Chapter 2 was one of my least popular posts looking at number of likes and views since my first year of blogging in 2014.  I had already written Chapter 3 at that time, but decided to not post it since people seemed to not like the story.  Well, I’ll try again ;)  Here is the third chapter.

*

I took a sip of the dark beverage.

When I was a freshman, a friend’s girlfriend made me a drink that she called “hot cocoa”.  It was actually some cocoa powder, yerba mate, cinnamon and other spices in tepid water.  She said it was full of energy.  It was bitter but had odd notes that were just beyond description.

I took another sip.

This beverage was similar, though I liked it better.  More than that, it really did give me energy.  More than energy, it calmed my rebelling stomach erased all signs of alcohol. It cleared my head, but my mind continued to spin.

“So this place is a portal?” I asked.

“Maybe a multi-portal.  A confluence?  A hub? It isn’t just a simple passageway,” Threck said.

“Hundreds of worlds?”

Threck shrugged. “Hundreds, thousands, millions, who knows?”

“You say they are different worlds spread throughout the one Universe, some perhaps billions of light years from others, not different Universes?” Continue reading

Out of Place – Chapter 2

See Chapter 1

“Eric.”

The female voice calling my name was familiar.

“Eric.  Wake up.  Now!”

Was it Emma, the girl who sat near me in Econ?  She was pretty hot and I was sure she sometimes flirted with me as I talked to her before class.  She didn’t stick around after class long enough for me to find out.

“Eric, hurry.”

I opened my eyes.  It was very dark, but worse than that, I couldn’t focus.  Even the shadows were blurry.  I could barely make out the female figure leaning in close over me.

She had a hand open-palmed on my shoulder and gave me an occasional shove. Continue reading

Out of Place – Chapter 1

“One, two, three – what do I see?” My words were slurred.  “Four, five, six – stucco instead of bricks.  Seven, eight, nine – to go inside would be fine.  But it is three, four, five and I’ll never return alive.”

I was home for Spring Break.  My college friends were all someplace warm and my townie friends, well, in the two years at University I had outgrown the ones that hadn’t moved on.  They were all like Matt.  All Matt talked about was the “Two H-s”, hunting and hockey.  His eyes blurred if I brought up anything bigger, even local politics. Mention, say, Noam Chomsky, and his face would shut down.

I had been over to Matt’s house, but got bored with his little minded attitude and wandered away.  I soon found myself in front of number 345 Cedar Street saying that little chant I had made up when I was all of 12 years old.  “Two, one, zero – if I do it, I’ll be a hero.” I could see my breath in the cold air.

I had always wondered about old number 345, a wonder that bordered on obsession during my middle school days.

Old number 345, yeah, what a house.

Oddly enough, it sat between 337 and 351, as if an entire block was missing except that one strange, out of place house. Continue reading

The Yearning #writephoto

yearning

Photo by Sue Vincent

Meg crested the small hill and stopped.  A last fragrant breezed wafted up from the ocean as the sun slipped down for the night, causing the sky and water to flame.

Her heart bounded and for a minute she felt like a little girl, full of the desires of youth and pull of the sea and distant lands, the deep unending yearning, the yearning to be someplace, anyplace, else.

She brought herself back to the present and found An watching that same sunset.  She gave a knowing smile and walked over to her granddaughter.

“He’s out there someplace,” she said to the 24-year-old woman.  An didn’t respond.  “Yes, out there beyond the horizon.”

An gave a slight nod.

Meg drew closer to the young woman and watched the last flashes of light play across the water. Continue reading

Threshold – #writephoto

threshold

Photo by Sue Vincent

Morning light seeped in, illuminating the threshold, but not digging its way any deeper.  With the dawn came the salt-tinged breeze.  The surf continued, as it always had and always would, a constant background murmur and throb.  It was relaxing, kept the job at hand out of mind.

I peeked out from the entrance of the cave.  Nothing was moving.  I slipped back into the shadow.  They’d be here.  I knew.

*

“Come in.”

I opened the door and took a step, but then froze at the threshold.

“I’m sure you know all of these people.  Please come closer.”

The Commander continued to smile, but I knew something was up, something unpleasant.  I took two steps into the room.  The door was closed behind me. Continue reading

Release Me

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pixabay image by Natan Vance

With a slam of the door, Dave entered the tiny apartment and slumped down into a chair. Although the sun was still up, the room was dark.  The ratty curtains were pulled tight and a threadbare blanket, adding it’s slim weight, was thrown over the only window.  Dave wanted to block out the world, afraid of what he might see, afraid of what he might remember.

Hiding the world only went so far. He knew it would catch up to him anyway.

After a few minutes of sitting, the walls, as expected, breathed in and expanded out, as if the world was turning inside out, just like during “The Incident”.  As he sat there, it felt as if a part of him was being turned inside out as well, ripped from his skull and flushed down a cosmic toilet, just as it had been on that day. The part that was flushed away that day never returned, and yet there was something that took its place, someone else.

No! Nobody else. No. Continue reading

Timeless (Take 2) – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

(Note: I was not happy with my original telling of this story.  And if I turn it into a longer work, I need to change it. Here is the original.)

Black. It wasn’t the absence of light, because light could not exist.  It was the absence. The absence of everything.  Of light, of space, of time: there was nothing.

And then there was everything.

Everything expanded almost infinitely fast, though it didn’t, since time hadn’t ticked on yet and there was no space to travel. But then, in a small fraction of what some people would eventually call a “second”, the Universal clock ticked on and everything screeched to that ultra-slow speed that the stuff that would eventually be called light traveled.

Everything continued to expand at just below this new threshold.

He fell into this everything.

Again.

As he had before and as he would continue to do forever, as long as time existed.

He, of course, didn’t exist either.  Not yet.

He gasped for a breath.

Consciousness tried to fight its way to the surface, but was swallowed by the visions.

A thousand horsemen raced down onto the village, killing all in its wake.  The sea lapped peacefully on the shore as a few people wearing rough furs dug for clams. A spaceship left the sprawling city and descended out of orbit towards the blue Earth below.

He shivered. With the shiver consciousness finally won its fight.

He sat up, nameless, alone and naked.

Where was he?  When was he? Why here?  Why now?

He had slipped again, that was for sure. But he knew little else besides confusion.

The fog of his mind lifted.

It was a gentle field. His mind first spoke of northwestern Ohio, but then it settled into Brittany.  No, that was wrong.  Close, but wrong.

England.

A shape grabbed his attention.

He jumped up.

A Chorg!  They arrived in the 75th century.

But no, it was just a standing stone.  It had an odd angular pattern similar to a Chorg’s face, and bumps at the top like the eye stalks, but it was just a stone.

He walked over and touched it.

There was usually a reason for everything.  The stone most likely drew him in.

He shivered again.

He was always naked when he awoke from a slip.  How could it be otherwise?

There were voices.

A man and a woman were approaching.

Clothing always helped.  They were dressed for winter.  They were also dressed for the late 20th century or the early 21st.

Much experience taught him what to do.

“Hello,” he said in late 20th century English.  “I’m a bit confused. I have no idea where I am nor how I got here.  Can you help?”

The couple drew back, shocked at the appearance of the naked man in front of them.

“Please?” he said, his words a puff of steam in the frigid air.  “I’m lost and cold.”

He half smiled.

The man took off his coat and handed it to him.

“Let’s get out of this cold,” the man said, leading them back from the stone.

This was a routine perfected from countless encounters, a trick of the trade for the timeless.

But now he had hardened into a time and needed to figure out why.

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Written for Sue Vincent‘s #write photo prompt.  See this week’s prompt here.

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This is the second take on this story.  Here is the first.

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This is now a serial story.  yes, again ;)

** First Chapter ** Next Chapter

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