I ate it. All of it. It was terrible.
My taste receptors burned with acid and salt. Still, my digestive system accepted it, converting the mass consumed into precious needed energy.
My next meal was twice as big, mostly blue and green, much more delicious-looking.
Third rock from the sun.
AJ Joseph gardens while waiting for inspiration to hit her. In the meantime, she occasionally writes at Words from Sonobe.
The breeding program has gone spectacularly. The few ultra-intelligent humans created technologies that moved the entire species forward. Lifespans were expanded; machines and medicines allowed the rest to become lazy, compliant, and complacent. Their minds softened along with their bodies.
They will be easy to harvest, just as we planned.
Suzanne Reynolds-Alpert writes science fiction, horror, dark fantasy, and the occasional poem. Her short fiction has appeared in the anthologies The Final Summons, Killing It Softly (Vol.1), and The Deep Dark Woods. Read her poetry in the anthology Wicked Witches, the websites Tales of the Zombie War and Eternal Haunted Summer, and in The Wayfarer: A Journal of Contemplative Literature. Suzanne is a freelance content creation expert and editor who writes in between meeting the incessant demands of her feline overlords. Find her on Facebook or follow her on Twitter @SuzsMuses.
Lights pulsed outside, and the bottles behind the bar clamored as a saucer-shaped spacecraft settled in the parking lot. Connor took a long, slow drink of beer as people ran out the back door and then muttered through his mustache, “Come friend or foe, I’ll not abandon an Irish stout.”
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audio books. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, Kzine, Alien Dimensions, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog.
Kinny stormed inside. He threw aside the briefcase, turned on the TV – “…was acquitted on all counts…” – and strode into his study.
He admired his model city.
But it was time for some development.
He widened highways and crushed the courthouse.
“…news just in of the sudden implosion of downtown’s…”
Joey thinks some people should play with models instead of screwing up the real world.
Our children lost their connection. They could have learned from our mistakes, but in our quest for secrecy we hid the wrong things. We gave them the wrong stories.
They must learn the Earth’s magic, forget their alien origins. Time grows short.
We will not take them to another planet.
Rae Stinger writes from her home in Salem, Oregon, and awaits the return of her alien ancestors. You can find her on Twitter. @raestinger
We’ve been furloughed until the city is sure that the storm has passed. A precaution.
Nestled between two large piles of various canned and dehydrated foods, hot coffee in my hands, I am prepared to watch the rain.
A few drops hit the window, and the glass begins to sizzle.
K. Victoria Hernandez is an ecologist and writer. She is a Clarion workshop graduate, writes short stories, poetry, and is currently working on a novel. Her favorite season is storm season, with a cup hot coffee for warmth.
At the centre of the sun, the dark matter eggs cracked open. The creatures emerged, stretching their massive wings into fifteen million degree heat. They looked outwards, ready for their first meal.
The first planet was too small, the second too dry.
But the third planet…
It looked just right.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. His most flanturbulous ambition is to create a new word that will eventually appear in the Oxford English dictionary.
The titanium cylinder arrived battered, but JonX571 recognized the Intergalactic Express logo and the date 2021. Inside were three squirming humans: male, female, intersex.
His own archived memory chips retrieved data on world leaders and nuclear war, and an electronic screen with instructions.
What he found perplexing was “Love them.”
Kim Favors chases falling stars from California.
Saw my first tree today. So beautiful! Even better than the picture.
The museum guy said that in olden days the whole planet was covered in trees! I couldn’t imagine that.
Put my name down for the draw for tickets to see a mammal next year. Hoping for a rabbit.
Mick Mangan lives in England and writes plays, poems, songs, fiction, and non-fiction. There is more about his music at mickmangan.com.
The day I headed to Jupiter was a fine spring day. I’ll never forget my euphoria of anticipation and the fine sense of adventure as the blue Earth shrank behind me, our galaxy’s most beautiful jewel, full of dreams and life.
Too bad it was gone when I came back.
Sandra Siegienski enjoys writing science fiction/fantasy and young adult fiction. Her focus ranges from novels to six-word story contests.