“So when wood burns in a closed system,” said Ms. Gribbons, “it creates gas, liquid, and ash. Nothing’s ever truly lost; it just changes form.”
Michael raised his hand.
“My Dad says that, but I never believe him.”
“He says it when I miss my Mom.”
Jennifer L Freed usually writes poetry. She uses her middle initial in her bios because people have Googled her and landed on another writer with the same first and last names. For more, please visit jfreed.weebly.com
As I was peeling potatoes one got away and hit the floor. It disappeared.
Einstein says when one object strikes another there is an infinitesimally small chance the vibrations of each will cause them to pass right through each other.
I checked, but the potato wasn’t in the basement either.
Ginny Giraudi is a science writer living in Mississauga.
The Labrador was the first of the dogs to wear the device, its barks converting to human speech. Just a single repeating word, really. Mel could hear it clearly from his desk.
The other dogs bared their teeth, and panic rose in Mel’s chest. It was only one word: “Attack!”
Daniel Pereyra is a Phoenix, AZ-based writer of fiction and poetry. He’s had fiction featured in the online magazine The Artist Catalogue and his poetry has appeared both online and in print. His poetry chapbook, Sunday Morning Ponderings, was published in August 2015 by Flutter Press.
It can be difficult, deciding to abandon research, but not in this case. The experiment had produced competing clusters, no cohesive whole.
With regret, He set in motion events that would return the experiment to its starting materials; eastern light began its final crawl down the skyline of New York.
Kevin works in a lab by day and ponders various avocations by night. This is his first submission of anything, anywhere.
She lies on the tile floor, breathing in the chemical scent of the lab. The formula should be curing her damaged brain. Instead, it is destroying it.
Perhaps playing with life and death wasn’t her best decision.
She closes her eyes, but she still sees a light.
So much light…
KT Cherry likes writing, chocolate, the Oxford comma, and chocolate. She is working on a novel about superheroes. She blogs
about writing, introversion, and more chocolate.
The parts of the sea floor pushed against each other, none strong enough yet to have their way. Years pass and humans thrive.
A piece pushes its neighbor and the ground begins to shake. Days pass and humans investigate.
A mountain of water rushes outward. Minutes pass and humans die.
Suzi Harris is a retired technical writer working on her first novel with the support of her crazy Canadian husband and two psychotic cats.
“Woah, what’s that?”
“A titan of eternal torment and fire, birthed from the maw of hell, knowing nothing of love or life, seeking only the end of all that has ever been and ever will be?”
“Yeah, but how did it get here?”
“You forgot to shut the door, Einstein.”
Brandon King is a volunteer for Leading Edge Magazine, an awesome sci-fi/fantasy publication that will publish and/or edit your short stories, poems, or artwork.
Klug the caveman grunted happily. Yes, he thought. I’ve got it!
The sand in front of him was littered with physics equations, signifying a lifetime of theoretical contemplation. He’d discovered the mathematical basis of both teleportation and time travel!
Now he just needed a few millenia to invent the equipment.
This story was based on a title suggested by @abapicalTaenia, through his preorder of Feel-Good.
There were no keys to the city, boisterous parades, Nobel prizes, or television interviews for the man who conquered friction. (His call-in to local radio was unrelated.)
Hal Miller’s millstones, which once kept the whole neighbourhood awake, were now silent, and also completely ineffectual.
Too bad NASA never followed up.
This story was based on a title suggested by @ecocd.
She explained to me that produce was essential to progress. “Science?” she would say. “Show me science on an empty stomach!”
Farming was her calling. Everything else, she said, didn’t really matter.
A twist of fate brought me, undeserving, through the famine, left alone to carry her message of life.