Short Stories

The neon-soaked streets of Axiom City’s lower levels pulsed with an eerie, artificial heartbeat. Detective Zara Vex stood motionless, her cybernetic eye whirring as it scanned the latest crime scene. This was the fifth disappearance in as many weeks, each victim vanishing without a trace, save for a cryptic message left behind. Zara’s human eye narrowed as she crouched to examine the glowing text that hovered just millimeters above the grimy floor: “The singularity approaches. Are you ready to ascend?” ...

The moving truck rumbled away, leaving Mira Chen alone on her new driveway. She surveyed the quiet cul-de-sac, identical houses lining the curved street like a row of pastel-colored teeth. Only the numbers differentiated one from the next. 1420 Sycamore Lane - her new address. Mira’s gaze drifted down to the sidewalk. Something about the cracks in the concrete caught her eye. They formed an intricate lattice, almost like a circuit board or the veins of a leaf. She shook her head, chalking it up to an overactive imagination after a long day of unpacking. ...

Greta Hoffmann stood at the edge of her balcony, hands cupped around her mouth, and let out a warbling cry that echoed across the Alpine valley. “Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!” Her voice cracked on the final note, dissolving into a fit of coughing. “Verdammt!” Klaus grumbled from his armchair inside. “Must you do that every morning? The neighbors will think we’re raising a herd of dying goats up here.” Greta turned and beamed at her husband, undeterred. “Now, now, Klausy. You know what they say - practice makes perfect! And just think how impressed everyone will be when I master it.” ...

The mural stretched across the brick wall like a vibrant scar, its colors faded but still defiant against the drab gray of the surrounding buildings. Amelia Torres stood before it, her paintbrush hovering uncertainly over the palette balanced in her left hand. She’d been here for nearly an hour, willing herself to make the first stroke, to begin the touch-up work that would breathe new life into her creation. But her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. ...

Maya Chen stood at her apartment window, watching neon signs flicker to life in the gathering dusk. Vibrant pinks and electric blues pierced the twilight, their glow reflecting off puddles left by an afternoon shower. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, feeling disconnected from the pulsing energy of the city below. Three months in this new metropolis, and Maya still felt like a stranger. The cacophony of car horns and the constant hum of human activity were a far cry from the quiet suburbs where she’d grown up. She’d taken the job transfer hoping for adventure, a chance to reinvent herself. Instead, she found herself retreating further into her shell, spending most evenings alone with her laptop and a cup of tea. ...

Lira stared out the car window, watching the lush green landscape blur past. Her sister Mira’s excited chatter faded into background noise as Lira silently willed the car to turn around and head back home. She’d much rather be curled up with a good book than embarking on this ill-advised camping trip. “Come on, sis, at least try to look a little excited,” Mira said, nudging Lira’s arm. “This is going to be amazing! Fresh air, starry skies, just us and nature.” ...

Eliza Blackwood’s fingers trembled as she fastened the last pearl button on Queen Elizabeth’s elaborate gown. The air in the royal bedchamber felt thick with perfume and tension. Outside the leaded windows, a late autumn storm lashed the stones of Greenwich Palace. “There, Your Majesty,” Eliza murmured, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “The very picture of divine sovereignty.” Queen Elizabeth turned from her looking glass, eyes sharp beneath her shock of red hair. “Divine, perhaps. But even God’s anointed must watch her back in these treacherous times.” She fixed Eliza with a penetrating stare. “You’ve been distracted of late, Mistress Blackwood. I do hope your thoughts haven’t wandered to… dangerous territory.” ...

The sun beat down mercilessly on the cracked pavement, shimmering waves of heat rising from the abandoned streets. Aria wiped the sweat from her brow and adjusted the straps of her scavenging pack, scanning the desolate urban landscape for any sign of movement. The ruins of the once-thriving metropolis stretched out before her, a concrete jungle slowly being reclaimed by nature. She’d been out since dawn, methodically combing through the remnants of office buildings and apartments, searching for anything of value. Water was the most precious commodity, of course, but food, medicine, and functional tech were also worth their weight in gold these days. So far, her pack held only a few cans of preserved vegetables and a handful of corroded batteries. Not exactly a jackpot, but it would have to do. ...

The sharp click of Mira Chen’s heels echoed through the concrete canyon of downtown as she strode purposefully toward the gleaming glass tower that housed Apex Architecture. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her crisp blazer and pencil skirt projected the image of cool professionalism she had carefully cultivated over the past five years at the firm. As she approached the revolving door, Mira allowed herself a small smile. Today was the day - after months of preparation and late nights, she would finally present her design for the Millennium Tower to the partners. At 28, she was young to be lead architect on such a massive project, but Mira knew her plans were innovative and bold. This could be her big break. ...

The ancient pickup truck rattled down the dusty lane, kicking up clouds of ochre that swirled in its wake. Mara Thorne gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white against the sun-bleached vinyl. As the truck crested a small rise, the farmhouse came into view. It squatted on the horizon like a tired old dog, weathered clapboards faded to the color of bleached bone. Mara’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t set foot on this property in over twenty years, not since that sweltering summer when she was fourteen. The memories rose unbidden – the suffocating heat, the eerie silence of the cornfields, and most of all, her grandmother’s increasingly erratic behavior. ...