Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers

The Dawn of Earth’s Twilight

Published by Martyn Winters on May 17, 2024

Chapter 0 – V 2.0

Part I. The resurrection of the Father

Father Ellis Simpson woke to the sound of nothing other than his laboured breathing, a state of quietude which lasted only a few seconds before a soul shattering agony leapt at him like an avenging tiger, invading every muscle, sinew, and bone in his body. He could feel a grand mal tinkering with his cognition right at the edge of his perception and he reflexively glanded Topiramate 11 to suppress it, but had nothing for the pain.

A green light flashed on a panel in front of him. It was so bright he could glimpse it through his tightly closed eyes. Forcing one eye open, he saw it was more than one light. A series of letters in a readout panel read: “Hibo capsule opening in:” The numbers next to the message were counting down in seconds and showed just over two minutes to go.

Tentatively moving one emaciated arm to test the lid of his capsule, Ellis sucked in air tasting of chlorinated faecal droplets as the grinding of unused joints added to his distress. He gagged.

Memento Mori – Jason Davies-Redgrave v1.7

Published by Jason Davies-Redgrave on May 17, 2024

“Everything you will need will be in this box…”

When you first go into space it is the most desolate and strangely beautiful thing you’ll ever see. There are vast tracts of inky emptiness, pin pricks of light shimmering in the infinite distance but every so often you see something wonderful that sears itself into your consciousness forever.

Now, I can’t even bring myself to look out of the window at the gaudy lights and boiling gas of the nebula beyond the station: it looks fake, like a bad holo-reproduction. The medical centre is a vast, cold tundra of healing. All the staff are methodical and pleasant enough yet at the same time brash and thoughtlessly noisy. My room is a painfully clinical, porcelain white cell with sharp edged lighting. Even the bed sheets feel hard and unforgiving, scratching against my survivor’s guilt at each slow turn of my tired body.

Like a Daughter

Published by Janet Johnson on May 14, 2024

Emma looked out of the shuttle window tears forming in the corner of her indigo-blue eyes.

“Goodbye Freya and thank you,” she whispered softly to herself, dabbing away the tears.

She took one last look at Mars, the red-brown earth, spiky grasses, and soft, smooth, pebble-like mosses, the only home she’d ever known, as the silver-grey craft deployed upward thrust and briefly hovered over the landing pad before embarking on its flight to Jupiter.

Memento Mori

Published by Jason Davies-Redgrave on May 13, 2024

“Everything you will need will be in this box…”

Now, I can’t even bring myself to look out of the window at the gaudy lights and boiling gas of the nebula beyond the station: it looks fake, like a bad holo-show. The medical centre is a vast, cold tundra of healing. All the staff are methodical and pleasant enough yet at the same time brash and thoughtlessly noisy. My room is a painfully clinical, porcelain white cell with sharp edged lighting. Even the bed sheets feel hard and unforgiving, scratching against my survivor’s guilt at each slow turn of my tired body.

The Boat

Published by Caroline Thomas on May 13, 2024

The sun slips down below the curved horizon, painting a path of glowing tangerine across the dark blue sea, illuminating a three-metre diameter inflatable boat bobbing around on the choppy water. Sixteen people are sitting in a circle, their backs pressed against the sides of the fragile vessel. Fourteen of them have their eyes closed. Several of the sleepers are sliding down where they sit, slumping onto the next one’s shoulder; muttering in their sleep; drooling. The fifteenth is beside a small engine, bought from fishermen, holding limply onto the miniature wheel. But he’s not steering and the engine is…

The fallen ones

Published by CJ Burrow on May 13, 2024

(Continued)

I watch the potential threads light up as they stretch between us, one beginning to solidify as she raises her hands. I reach out to touch it, to sense what this binding would yield, just as Taros steps in front of me. The threads unravel and fade. What a pity.

“That’s enough!” he yells, forearms thrown wide, palms raised at each of us, though he looks pointedly at me. His lower set remain clenched at his sides, creating an arcing line of tension through his frame.

“Come on! It was just gettin’ interestin’!” Callista calls from where he’s reclining in an ornate chair, one he has obviously conjured at some point for his own comfort and grandeur. His feet are propped up on the table, eyes bouncing avidly between Acara and I.

Star

Published by Zin Shandi on May 13, 2024

The sky was like a painting by a master artist, with strokes of brilliant orange and pink blending seamlessly together with vibrant colours of orange and pink as the sun slowly descended behind the towering buildings. The sound of drums and bells echoed all over the city, growing louder with each passing moment, signalling the arrival of the Atlantis twelve families. As the anticipation for the celebration heightened, the atmosphere inside the castle grew increasingly tense, with everyone bustling around to ensure everything was in order. The guests arrived in their finest attire, each dressed to impress. Some of the men wore two-piece robes, the skirt tied with a long tie that covered an opening and showed the legs up to the knee. They completed their outfits with a top tiara on their head, which added a regal touch. Meanwhile, the women wore elegant gowns and dresses made of the most exquisite fabrics.

The unique fabric they wore was a special weave that changed colours depending on the light that shone upon it. As the guests moved from the bright ballroom to the dimly lit garden, their dresses transformed from a deep shade of blue to bright and vibrant rainbow colours, and other dresses turned from a beautiful shade of lavender to a soft shade of pink as she stepped into the light. It was as if they were enveloped in a cloud of colour that shifted and changed with every step they took.

The Dawn of Earth’s Twilight – Chapter 1

The Dawn of Earth’s Twilight – Chapter 1

Published by Martyn Winters on May 1, 2024

California Institute of Technology, LIGO2 facility, Hanford site, Washington State“Oh, my giddy aunt, waaay-ting,” Doctor Aurélie Amadi sang at her screen while drumming her fingers on her desk. While she waited for her results, she was watching the sailboats far below on the lake made by a Moaik Kinetic Energy Weapon when it ploughed into the Hanford Campus of Caltech’s Laser Interferometer Gravitational Observatory – LIGO – fifty-five years earlier and wishing she could be there in her tiny dinghy, cares left behind, just her, the wind, and the waves.As lead researcher of the LIGO2 project, Aurélie was familiar with…

Published by Martyn Winters on May 1, 2024

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Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Posts

Chapter 0 – V 2.0

Part I. The resurrection of the Father