Sci-Fi
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Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal. – Albert Einstein For forty years, I have dwelled alone beneath the earth, in a room so sterile it rivals a surgical theatre. No photographs. No mementos. Only a yellowing calendar and a mahogany clock — my sole tormentor. That clock, relentless…
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Memories are like old Polaroid photographs. No matter how old or worn they may be, snippets of what has been, what could have been and what will never be, can still be glimpsed from its fading chroma. *** In a not-too-distant future, where the past and the present have inadvertently unified to a phasis of…
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THE HOPE OF MANKIND RESTED ON THEIR SHOULDERS! All I and Joan heard as we made our escape from the horror behind us were the screams of our colleagues as they were slaughtered. Then I remembered John and the sacrifice he made for me to live in his stead and my leg wobbled as fresh…
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The initial terror that led to me fainting hadn’t passed yet, but the journalist in me was rearing up its ugly head and urging me to gather information and do something about my predicament. The only reason I am still alive is probably due to my fainting spell, which must have been misinterpreted for death…
My Dark School Of Thoughts 