Figment

A story with a twist from Anneberly. Happy Reading. 🙂

Anneberly Andrews

steampunk-1809590_960_720 Photo Credit: via Pixabay

My eyes fluttered, just as nausea rose up through my belly to the top of my tongue. Confusion devoured the little bit of awareness that was lurking in the shadows. As I attempted to flutter past the blurry darkness of unconsciousness, and come into some semblance of wakefulness, pressure built deep within my throat, pushing behind my teeth. Instinct forced my head to slightly turn to the left just as bile shoved passed my lips, spraying like a water hose that had just been turned on for the first time after being dormant during the cold and freezing months.

Consciousness gradually heightened as my eyes rapidly flickered. I could feel my extremities stretched out in the shape of a star. My body bound by unyielding restraints on my ankles and wrists, and a loose yet inflexible restraint hovering above my throat. While a flat, unforgiving, cold…

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Awake, Bronze Gladiator

Another dark poem about the future of man. Hopefully not a prophetic one. Enjoy. 🙂

HoneyGwhiz

img_0630Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner

He fought in battles.
Until lady luck lost.
Broken and battered.
They brought him in.

Fighting for his life.
Body parts to be replaced.
Drugged; then asleep.
His soul tormented.

From the melting furnace.
Liquid metal poured out.
Knitting flesh and metal.
A new dawn of Frankenstien.

The artist uses a scalpel.
The flesh endures pain.
Gears twined with muscles.
Perfection sought after.

The robotic hand, deadly.
Imagine the crushing of skulls.
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde enters.
But Frankenstien rules.

This human was tough.
But now, unstoppable.
Programmed with commands.
This one exceeds beyond.

Before me, he stands.
Polished bronze with gears.
And ripples of muscles.
This perfect bronze warrior.

Into the reality of dreamscape.
A future within a realm.
This vision before me.
Awake, Bronze Gladiator.

By C.E. Pereira
(19-5-2019)

This is written for May Speculative Fiction #Writingprompt hosted by D. Wallace Peach at…

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A Changeling King

A new version of the Minotaur story. I hope you enjoy the read.

World’s in the Making

I dream of the world outside, of trees.

People say they are green, some say they are brown.

I think they are both.

Like I, both human and a monster.

I live below the dungeons, below the royal kitchen and way below the throne. That is where my family sits. Ruling over a whole kingdom hiding a secret.

I am their secret.

A maze created explicitly for a beast like I. A monstrosity concocted by my own mother and father. An accident. From birth, I was raised to be better, to be faster to be the best. A son worthy of a King, a God but I was neither.

So here I sit on a wooden stool throne, a disfigured prince in the centre of a maze, alone.

A murderer.

Every first day of a new month. A new group of young men and women shall enter my maze and…

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Watch shield

A multi-layered story of creation from Sonia. I hope you enjoy it. Have a great week ahead and Happy Reading!

Postcard from life lately

It’s time again! Thank you for this prompt Diana! I’ve decided to let my imagination run freely! Come with me! Let’s open this time capsule together!😉

Written in response to Diana Peach’s prompt: May Speculative Fiction #Writingprompt

steampunk-black-man-brigitte-werner_pixabay-1

Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner

I stroke the blank page in fury. He was an intruder in my dreams after all.
For months he would visit me every night, no days off, or holiday, or any disappointments!
I would open the door for him every time.
The nonsensical segments of a sketch progressively became more refined.
I am creating life from a blank page.
His curls were midnight black.
His shirt was torn apart.
His prominent bones in his shoulders and face, and a thickness to his skin.
His chiseled and rippled muscles across his chest…
He was a dreamy part of my imagination, simultaneously a love and an unreachable man within my…

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Is This The Future #Writingprompt

A cautionary poem from Deepa Kadaakat. I hope you enjoy the read.

Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner

Is This The Future?

by Deepa Kadavakat

You told everyone this is what I am made of:
Levers and Axles and Nuts and Bolts.

Replacing one with another when there was a problem.
Injecting chemicals and metals, even when not necessary.

Yes, you did a great job in saving lives and protecting them
I wish you had stopped there and not become greedy

Playing around with placebos and nocebos
Without a thought about where it leads.

You made me look like something you could create.
Convincing everyone around you to believe it…

 

(Continue reading: Is this the Future)

The Bone Forge

A wonderful story from HRR. I hope you enjoy it. Have a great weekend!

Let Me Tell You the Story of...

steampunk-1809590_960_720Hot.  Flames singed at his flesh.

Pain. His arm ached when he tried to cover his eyes, and his side throbbed with constant, stinging pain.

Alfred whimpered and remained lying down.  “Oh God,” he asked, “My God, why did you forget me?”

“Forget who?” asked a voice.

The light in the room changed as an old woman with wild, grey curls sticking from her messy bun pulled a curtain open.  She placed a hand on Alfred’s head, taking the chance to examine him.  She grabbed a pen light and tested his pupils’ dilation.  “Hmph.  That bootup was supposed to be a test.”

Alfred’s rapid heartbeat and breathing slowed.  “Where am I?” he asked.  “I take it I’m not in Hell?”

“Depends on how much and what kind of Hell you believe in.”  She flipped a switch, and the gears behind Alfred slowed.  The hot fire dimmed.  “This is The…

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The Robot in me

A story from Betul that asks some timely questions. Enjoy!

To Write or not to Write and What to Write

steampunk-1809590_960_720This story is a response to the May Speculative Fiction Prompt by Diane Wallace Peach

It has been a long time since I started feeling this weird thing in me. I am becoming more ruthless. I started feeling less and less empathy for people. I am not sure where this is coming from, how it started, why it started. But it sure freaks me out. Not feeling sad for a kid who fell and hurt was not my thing. Now, this has become my usual reaction. Or rather, I have become reactionless. Heartless.

Sometimes, I still feel some pity for people and whenever I feel this, it makes me happy. But then, I remember the other times when I do not feel this and become unhappy again.

I think about this change in me all the time. Maybe I should not. Maybe I can sit down and just watch a…

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