The centurion realized they were doomed
surrounded by barbarian hordes
Not his choice, being sent to Germania
To die on foreign soil, in this supposed adventure
For the Glory of Rome and Gaius Cornelius Tacitus
He marked the time on his Rolex
The professor was wrong
Time travel… really sucked
Paul Hock wrote this story.
Being alone was the least of his worries. Looking out at the void, the emptiness was hypnotic, enticing him outside.
His crew was sadly gone and two years remained until his arrival. “But who will need rescuing by then?” he thought.
He switched the ship to autopilot just in case.
The procession stomped past, kicking up red sand. Participants dressed in blue and green, holding banners in remembrance of Planet Earth, singing old songs.
Annie squeezed her grandmother’s hand.
“Nana. What are we celebrating?”
“It’s been fifty years since we had to leave,” she replied, gazing at the empty sky.
David Turton is a fiction author, flitting between science fiction, post-apocalyptic horror and straight-up terror. Look out for his published work across various online publications as well as a forthcoming Body Horror Anthology due in late 2017.
Last drop of oil
Last chunk of coal
A healing earth
Cheap power for all
He climbed into his all-electric
Entered the coordinates to the Zero Carbon Celebration
Sat back for the ride
The first solar flare hit
And all hell broke lose
Paul Hock is from Fergus, Ontario, Canada, and is a writer of historical fiction. See more at paulhock.com
The beasts surround me, a wall of teeth. I can run no longer.
Why did I leave Earth?
Inside my helmet, I flick through photos from home. The white sandy beaches obscure the beasts. The smiles of family calm my heart.
Lost in memory, I barely feel the first bite.
Tim lives in Sydney where he is writing two fantasy novels, whenever he can spare the time from writing software and collecting sci-fi.
“To get to the other side!” he says, wiping tears from his eyes while I do my best not to roll mine.
Dad is getting harder to take, and holograms are expensive. In a couple years, when the kids are older, it might finally be time to let him go.
Dave James Ashton favours short fiction as he has a bad memory and poor attention span.
We live in the shadows. We watch and wait. We act to safeguard all. We have futurist capabilities. We make the tough decisions of life and death. We ensure the planet.
We are Atlantis.
We are the world’s second foundation. We are humanity’s fail-safe.
Enjoy your ignorance; hope is secured.
John Keeley is an NYCer and futurist who believes that tomorrow is ours and guaranteed.
“With one formula, we’ve reached singularity. Those black skies will be mapped; endless mysteries will become facts.”
That was the pitch, anyway. Now, standing on this… living satellite, I shiver despite the heat.
Overcome by hostile hosts, it dawns. Now that we live faster than light,
so too we die.
James P. Spitznogle is an aspiring writer from the star-scraping hills of West Virginia.
“The buildings outside look bizarre, different. The people we pass look… odd. Whose idea was this?
“Let’s take the bus to the terminus. See where it goes!”
We’ve been driving for hours now. It’s dark outside, but there are two moons in the sky.
I just want to go home!
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. His campaign to be crowned King of the World has yet to really take off.
Earth is a pretty strange place. These beings are only interested in destroying each other and their planet. Their machines constantly belch thick black poison, clouding the view of my ship.
Oh well, I think. They can have fun while they can, because their planet won’t belong to them soon.
Mathieu Munroe is a self-taught artist and writer. You can find him loitering in his room or in tree covered areas.