The Third Form Anthology of Science-Fiction

sci-fi day 2014

Tom Gauld

first draft of extracts and much more to come…

final anthology to be published after half term

SS Machina – Jack Carter

‘We were drifting through space like any other civilian ship. Nothing special; we were just explorers, lost in a vast vacuum. We did not care; we enjoyed the pointlessness. There was no fear - why should have there been? No pirates had been reported in this sector, yet. RADAR had not been bleeping; the trade routes were a quarter of a light-year behind us.’ – Lieutenant Joel Radford

The bridge of the SS Machina was peaceful. Captain Ben Guise had his legs up on the CP (Control Panel). The blue tint of I.R.I.S. (Internal Reticule Intelligence Service) glowed onto the captain’s yawning face. He was staring out into space, in wonder at the sheer number of stars. He could not reach them all.

“I.R.I.S. check the ship. I want a report on all bays.” The Captain ordered. He was glad that the federation allowed him this much freedom. The crew deserved some peace. The return of I.R.I.S. disturbed his thoughts. It spoke in a broken, metallic but soft voice.

“Ship’s capacity at 93% Captain. Engineering- 98%, Medical- 92%, Quarters- 8…”

The Captain interrupted the A.I. “That’s fine Iris.” He was tired. They were soon going to approach Nevada-8. They could refuel and rest there. However, another interruption happened, and Ben swung into action. It was the RADAR. An alert, red blip was onscreen. Another ship. It was dead ahead. Ben hit the alert button. A siren wailed in the background, however Ben did not care. He was staring ahead, there was a ship. A pirate ship.

Lieutenant Joel Radford sprinted into the bridge, his blue jumpsuit blurred behind him.

“What the hell is happening, Captain?” Joel shouted, out of breath. The shadow of the pirate ship glared onto him, like a grey oppressive cloud. “Pirates?”

The laser cannon flaps opened silently. They were pointed directly at the Machina. The pirate ship was a massive cluster of scrap- no doubt that it was made up of their prey’s destroyed ships. “Sir, what are we going to do? We have no weapons!” Joel panicked. Suddenly a neon-green light erupted from a cannon. It shot directly into one of engine hulls. They was a huge shaking- but no sound. I.R.I.S. flickered onto the screen.

“Engine Hull 02 breached,” it exclaimed. There was little emotion behind the voice- like a service android.

The hull had a large rip in it, 15 metres wide. Engineer Lucy Edwards was hanging on for dear life. The vacuum had already claimed three victims, all her friends. Her fingers were claws digging into the metal door. She tried to scream but space stole the noise. The void was ripping at her. Her flesh was beginning to tear. Maroon liquid erupted from a fresh slice in her arm. Her face contorted in pain. It was too much, she was dying. Her fingers released and she was flung into space. Her corpse froze instantly as she joined her work mates.

The Captain and Lieutenant were sprinting down the deck C hallways. Decks A, B and D had been compromised by the cannons. There was a fire behind them- a consuming, orange threat. There were disordered and panicking civilians everywhere. Joel grabbed a woman carrying a baby. The baby’s face resembled his own….

Time Travellers – Adam Shipley

“You sure this will work?” Frank inquired. “For the last time, yes!” replied the man behind the glass. “Then why do we have to wear these stupid suits? And why are there so many walls between you and us? And why are you getting ready with all those fire extinguishers?” “Shut up Frank”snapped Jordan, the team leader. “We’re all nervous and you ain’t helping at all with your stupid jabbering” “I just wanted to know, that’s all.” He sulked, as he checked all his equipment for the hundredth time. “Can you guys stop fidgeting?” called the man behind the glass. “ I can’t get a proper lock with you lot moving around. And Frank, get your foot in the machine, you don’t want to warp without it. Remember what happened to Nick?” Everyone winced, as they remembered when Nick had left his hand outside of the machine when they travelled. He had appeared in 1965, with all his body intact, except his hand hadn’t come with them. The result had been a disgusting forearm, dripping blood off the stump where his hand should have been. He had only just made it the 24 hours they had to wait to warp back, and even now with the advanced medical facilities available 150 years later, his hand still wasn’t what it used to be. His days of cricket were over…

Mermaid - Aaisha Majid

Her shaking fingers reached towards the side of her neck. Her breath sounded strange. Not gills, I’ve not actually grown gills. Overnight. What will Dan say? He’ll never kiss me again.

Her salty tears dropped onto the carpet, trailing down her face in streams of sorrow. It’s too soon, too soon for this to happen to me. Her lungs constricted as she gasped for breath, plenty of air reaching her lungs but none of it helped. Choking, spluttering, she struggled to collect herself. Water, I need water.

She quietly hauled herself in the bathtub, turning on the taps and watching the tub fill up, feeling despair settle in her stomach. Now fully submerged, she could finally breathe again. There was a prickling sensation in her legs. They felt smooth and slimy. The scales had finally made an appearance. She felt refreshed, alive, free. And she hated it.

A knock on the door snatched her away from her misery. ‘Clarissa, babe, are you alright? You’ve been in there for a long time’ Dan’s smooth voice floated through the door. ‘I..I..I’m fine’ she stuttered back nervously. He can’t know, she thought frantically. He’s the only person left that I care about, I won’t let anything come between us. Especially not this.

Ignoring the sharp stinging in her aching legs, she climbed out shakily, grabbing the solid railing for support, so she wouldn’t slip on her scales. Her scales. The thought made her break into a fresh round of tears. This time, she wasn’t as quite as she had hoped to be….

Infertile – Seinem Asif

I’m hidden; I know what they’ll do to me. Monsters. They’re banging at the door, which, is also giving up. I try to get up, knowing I won’t be able to go much further. “kuka lapha” she whispers pointing to a door leading out to what used to be a diner. It’s been almost nine months, the time is near. I tell the woman to come with me, who by the looks of it is saying her last prayers, but I couldn’t wait, I had to go. Stumbling round the ruins, one hand on my stomach, I left leaving everything behind. The man I had met earlier said there was a ship waiting for me down by the river; he died in front of me, they got him too. A wrecked sign was outside the diner pointing left, with a picture of a boat. I heard footsteps pacing towards me, I wasn’t sure whether to hide or run; either way was danger. Terrified, I looked behind me slowly and cautiously. Nothing. From a distance, I heard a baby crying, it was shot, bleeding, in pain. A tear escaped from my eye. This is what the world has become. This place isn’t home anymore. My stomach grew an inch, not something to ignore, I ran further down, hoping to get there before it came. “Abantu lusizi” I heard one of them say, I knew what that meant, ‘bloody humans’. They grabbed the baby, cutting its head open, drinking the blood. Horrified, I turned away, feeling something crawling up my throat, I ran to the nearest shelter; it was coming. Grabbing a shard of a mirror I held it up in front of my mouth. A hand, I saw, then an arm. My mouth started to bleed greatly, the world darkened, but the load was still there… I woke up, shocked to find out that I was in fact, alive. They were there. Not aware of my awakening but I heard chanting. “isichotho umntwana engcwele” they repeated. Their bodies rising up and down, in a sort of worship.

Tick, Tock! - Isaac Osterreicher

“Tick tock Mister Cameron, tick tock,” The simultaneous last words of the president’s armed guard before they unwillingly plunged their glowing red blades into their faces. Mr Cameron ran for the first time since the beginning of the war when his house in Downing Street bas besieged; a faceless killer was coming and his seconds were numbered. “Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock,” The words rang in his head as…

His artificial head was separated from his neck. His owl pendant and lifeless body clattered to the floor but similar mercy was not applied to his living, decapitated head. He hung, suspended from the iron gauntlets of what could be mistaken as a man. The thing had a human body, human hair and a human grip, but had no mouth, no eyes, no nose, no ears, just a layer of skin where the faceless killer should have a face…

What are you reading, Kara? – Lucy Magness

Whenever and wherever you are, you are being watched- either by person or creature. Even when you’re alone in bed at night and you look into a dark corner and see nothing, I’m probably just behind you. For instance, you probably didn’t even notice, I’ve been reading this over your shoulder for the whole time.

* * *

Mummy warned me about these stories; she said that they were silly and were designed to make me scared. But I’m not scared? The little people are funny, it says that they have big blue eyes, like marbles, but not as shiny as the marbles we have at home. Mummy and I used to have a game where you have to make the marbles jump over each other so that you can take them away from the board; but I didn’t like that game. Daddy likes that game, though -he was very good- until, one day, he just took it and never came back.

Chameleon – Lavinia Horsfall

Have you ever felt invisible? If you have you might know what I am talking about. But feeling invisible all of the time, even to my family and closest friends, it’s indescribable. But all that is about to change.

It happened, I saw him, just him; nothing else mattered. I realised that I was moving towards him into the centre of the traffic. BLACK.

The LIGHT came back and that was when the DARK crept in.

Faintly at the back of my mind, I heard whispering gradually increasing into a noise that sounded like shouting. Air that had an unusual quality that I had never noticed before, fresh light and so much more. Observing my surrounding a blurry figure seemed to materialize from thin air, strangely the one thing that caught my eye was how abnormally intense his blue eyes were. Nothing else.

Finally the world seemed to come into focus, but the eyes were the focal point of that picture. The expression hidden in the corners finally dawned on me: worry. Why was he worried about me?

My stupidity was unparalleled, who were these people? Where was I? But most importantly WHAT TIME WAS IT?

If it was past 6pm mum was going to kill me, trying to get up a hand stopped me, his hand, I wasn’t going any were. Another man, an older man, had slipped in to the cubicle.

“You’re awake,” the older man said, “How are you feeling? Jared hasn’t left your side since you arrived three days ago.”

THREE DAYS? I’M SO DEAD.

“I need to leave, thanks for all the hospitality and all, but my family will be really worried about me “

“They have been notified”

“About what?”

“You know where you are, don’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Jared please leaves us for a minute”

“What? I am not leaving, I told you days ago she is my responsibility, she is here because of me!”

The Doctor - Milo Sergant

October 15th 1156. Thunder. No one had ever heard such a powerful sound. Everyone and everything stopped. People stopped talking. Babies stopped crying. Carts stopped wheeling. Thunder rippled through the earth’s sky. But no lightning? No clouds. No precipitation. Nothing… Just silence. No movement.

The world was baffled, and no equation could solve it. The world forgot about this whole situation. It was just a ‘fluke’. Only one would still believe that it meant something. One scientist, the ‘kidnapper of the dead’ as he calls himself though he had no one to call him that, he just focused on his work as a doctor. Even after 14 years he couldn’t and wouldn’t make everyone lose the memory of that day. There was only one way to see the problem. Up. Away from where it happened. Out of this world.

One night, the scientist strolled into the graveyard for a dead body for his biological research. He dug up the newest looking grave. As he moved the dirt away, a beautifully carved coffin appeared; like a pirate finding treasure, he slowly opened it with one pull. There sitting in front of his eyes. Nothing. Just some kind of big hole leading… Nowhere. He couldn’t tell anyone about it. He would have been hanged. He looked down into the abyss, wondering what it was?

Yellow - Izzy Radford

Awake. 8 am. I pull back the curtains and notice the sky is Green today. Not the best start. Pulling on some clothes to hide my hideously overdue pale White skin I rush downstairs to an awaiting household. Father, Mother, Sister.

“Big day today,” exclaims Father, slapping me on the shoulder. Wincing, I smile back into his dark Black eyes. Father is one of the lucky ones. A big strong lad with a bright future is guaranteed to become a Black: authority, power and style, unlike my pale White of innocence. Today is the day that will all change. My 16th birthday. Eden Bridges from two doors down got a Blue and she said it was painless. Said the doctors put you to sleep and when you come to, it’s like awakening from the most marvellous dream.

Mother glides over and places a plate of toast and jam down beside me. Both Green.

“Clause 5: Green symbolises the calm refreshing nature of society. It foretells relaxation and goodwill to others.” Mother recites word perfect, seeing the distressed look on my face.

“And bad luck,” I reply gloomily, picking up my knife and spreading the chemical coloured jam onto the bread.

Sighing, Mother pulls up a chair beside me and earnestly clasps my hands in comfort, her multitude of bracelets jangling on her delicate wrists. “Listen darling, I know how much you have been waiting for today but you must remember, any colour is perfect. We couldn’t be prouder of you whatever fate decides.”

“But what about Yellow?” I persist, as my Mother’s face turns paler than her natural Purple.

“You know we do not mention that in this house.” She says her face cold as ice and hard as an ancient rock. The house is silent for a few dangerous moments.

“Anyway, time is ticking! We need to get you to the doctors!” Warbles my Father happily.

Kissing my Mother and Sister goodbye I clamber inside the car, feeling a perfect balance between nervous and excited.

Pulling up outside the doctors and despite having seen this about a thousand times growing up, I am still awestruck by the amazing technicality of the building. It is huge and modern. The only really great remaining building after the apocalypse 34, which President John H Wills had described as: ‘A mere minor flaw in our ever advancing world’.

The receptionists greet us with dazzling smile. I heard they only hire people with dark Purples and Blacks here. The woman sends me into the operating room. Wow. The room is filled with millions of vials containing colours we don’t even have a name for, and warning signs with words such as ‘corrosive’ and ‘toxic’, are plastered all over the walls and door. Dr Messiani and Dr Wilkes, fully clothed in dark Black cloaks are waiting, sharp scalpels in hand.

“Please take a seat my dear” Dr Wilkes snake-like voice fills my ears as he gently lowers me into the chair.

“So, it’s the big day my dear?” Dr M circles the chair as he fills a syringe with a vile looking green liquid, thick and sticky.

Aftermath – Gus Day

The battered and beaten hatch slowly opened with a loud clang; the dark dense fog hung low over the nuclear wasteland. Adam gripped the wooden handle of his father’s Smith and Western rifle. The air was still and the mood was tense, sweat trickled slowly down his forehead and dripped off his nose. Now, out of the bunker, he was open and in extreme danger; they could be anywhere, lurking in the shadows, unseen, unheard until it was too late.

Each footstep was carefully placed, any sound and he could be killed. It was dangerous but it had to be done, it was his turn to go out and get supplies for the other survivors. His large, military boot clamped down on some embers of a once magnificent tree making a small but almighty sound. The sound seemed to echo for lifetimes, and then it happened.

An ear bleeding screech hit him like a brick wall, blasting him back. Braced on a scorched boulder, he slowly drew the scope of the rifle up to his face and scanned the wasteland. After a mere 10 seconds the horrific mutant surfaced for the rubble like a dark smoke rising from the depths of hell.

The beast charged him down, every step pounding down the ground like a jack-hammer. Adams heart started beating faster and faster, every second it came closer. In fear, he pulled the trigger. The gun shot echoed for miles and cut the air like a knife, but it did not stop the monstrosity charging towards him. There were no screams, there was no time, only death and then silence.

Roll the Dice - Laura Hawrych

You roll a dice. You roll a six; you survive. But anything else and you are left to fend for yourself. Two hundred years ago the world was full of cars, thousands of them all speeding down streets, littering the air with pollution. Lorries and trucks, buses and cabs. Billions of people driving these vehicles heading to cinemas, cafes, schools, houses, hospitals, the list is endless. There were cities all over the world, everyone had a home, and everyone had food and water. Now you are lucky if you see a loaf of bread.

Two hundred years ago the world ran out of resources.

There was not enough food, water, homes, cars, buses, lorries, cafes, schools, homes, hospitals, cinemas for all of us, so some of us had to go…

I grew up in the Graphene city with my parents, we had a back garden full of a mirage of flowers, densely packed trees formed a forest and a brook darted through the undergrowth. Everything was made of graphene in the city. Coloured graphene to create a perfect city of your wildest fantasies, and it was perfect, until I turned thirteen.

When you turn thirteen you have to roll the dice to decide your destiny. The Graphene city Is only able to hold a sixth of all people, so if you roll a six on the dice you can stay and spent the rest of your days in luxury. If you roll anything else you are an outcast. The rest of the world is your new home, but with barely any resources you have to fend for yourself. When I rolled I got a six.

Thrown in at the Deep End – Anjleena Khurshid

We had heard of ‘The Apocalypse’ spoken amongst gossiping old ladies and crazy scientists, but we had never imagined such a disaster actually happening. Not yet anyway. The whole world had drowned under a siege of horrific waters, and we were the only ones left. We sat quietly, not looking at each other. Trying hard not to think about the harsh reality we were faced with, not knowing what was yet to come.

A sudden creaking noise broke our moments of thought and threw us back into reality. One look between each other was enough for us to realise that we had to get out of here, and fast. As we hurled ourselves out of the murky waters and onto a nearby moss-covered underground sign, at last I had enough courage to speak. ‘I used to love coming here, to central London with my parents on the train. We used to laugh about how fast the trains went and the strong smoky smells in the air. Did you ever come here?’

Alice paused, for a moment, as if she was about to speak, then said nothing. We both knew that she had been here before, as the bracelet entangled on her wrist had ‘The Natural History Museum’ written on it. ‘Go on.’ I exclaimed eagerly. Alice’s face quickly became overshadowed with anger about being asked about her past. She replied with quick, sharp words. “Yes, I have been here.” Then her pale, grey, scrunched up face straightened out, and her small azure eyes became watery. “My mother used to bring me here to the museums, the planetarium and to see Big Ben.” She said softly. Both our eyes shuffled towards the famous landmark now completely submerged in water, only the peak of it visible.

Once again, a shameful silence took over us and the water surrounding us lay still. ‘We need to keep moving, otherwise we will never be able to escape.’ I murmured under my breath, still half suspended between a train sign and what seemed like the vast ocean. Yesterday, I swam for the whole day, and today, so far I had moved from a drowning museum, to a swimming underground sign. Out of the watery depths a tense, growling sound was coming and the sign we were balancing on began vigorously shaking. “Maybe we should-” Alice’s voice trailed off, as she engulfed a mouthful of water. We were sinking! Down, down, down we went, as if we were little broken boats…

They’re Here – Emily White

People said they were coming, but no one believed them. Not until now anyway. They rose from the dark depths of the North Sea, slimy and a murky green, about 4 feet tall. The reporters said it was a shamble, but when the scientists did as well, I suppose we all thought we were safe. But no one is to blame for what was to come.

There was a knock at the door. I put down my pen and diary onto my bed and ran to my parent’s room to check they were still there. I almost fell off of my bed, but stopped myself with my foot, and something crunched underneath me. The only people who come knocking nowadays are the police, reporting deaths. Before I could reach their door, my father pushed the door open and rushed down the stairs. My father usually sleeps deeply, but now, everyone is alert, even in their dreams.

My mother followed soon after, scrambling down the stairs to reach the door. They took a few deep breaths, hugged, and opened the door. The policeman had his fist at the door, just about to knock again. “Any news?” my mother enquired. The policeman only had to nod and my mother broke down. They entered the now underwater living room and took a seat on the new but submerged couches.

“I am afraid we have some quite disturbing news Mr and Mrs Hampleton. The search party found a child’s hand and wrist torn to shreds and we believe it to be Amy’s.” I stopped outside the door, listening into their conversation. I let my jaw hang wide and the police officer carried on.

“It was found nearby one of their nests that were discovered a few days ago. We have done a diagnostic scan and believe it to be your child’s. I am very sorry for your loss.” Shocked, I slid my back down the wall and curled up into a ball. We all knew what was coming, but we thought they would have found the rest of her body along with the hand.

My 15 year old sister, Amy, and her boyfriend, Billy went missing from the very room I was sitting outside of two nights ago at exactly midnight. Midnight is their feeding time you see, and many children and teenagers have been taken since they arrived. I’m surprised they left the hand. They must have bitten off more than they could chew.

The police officer left the house, knowing that there was no point starting another search party for the rest of the body. That was long gone and we all knew it. We all took in what we had been told and went to bed, alert more than ever now knowing what they are capable of.

A week went by, and then two, and then a month, more and more people going missing. A few sightings had been made, but horrible rumours had been spread and scared people a lot. People started to leave, fleeing from these terrors that were evolving around us. The government started jailing people who had claimed to have sighted more of them, before they had the chance to horrify more people. The news at 10 was shut down, and then all news programs were stopped by the government so that nobody would know that more and more people were getting mauled to death. But of course everyone did. People started to disappear from neighbourhoods, not just one by one anymore, but whole families started to vanish.

It had been two months since the death of my sister, two months since they took her and dined on her as if she was family meal. I was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as I heard what sounded like a chair being pushed aside in the kitchen. I sat straight up in

my bed, and hugged my knees, knotting myself together to block out the sounds that were coming from downstairs. A hiss and a growl followed, and my heart rate rose rapidly. The growls continued, and I began to stand up to escape to my parent’s room.

I took my first step, but in the completely wrong place. I stood heavily where I had broken the floorboard two months ago when I heard the knock at the door. The creak echoed the house like footsteps in an alleyway, and I sprung back into bed as if the floor was on fire. The growls stopped, and a howl almost answered the creak, the sound bouncing off of the walls.

An eerie darkness engulfed the room, and I heard a new sound coming from downstairs. A dragging sound, almost as light as an angel, but as harsh as a chain. I heard a sound that reminded me of the school lunches being slopped onto our plates. The stench of slime and sea weed filled my room like gas in a chamber. The grunts grew louder and I pulled the duvet up and over my head. My breath was warm in the small cave I had built around myself, and my door opened. I knew it was them. I knew it. They were coming for me just like they came for my sister. My breathing stopped, as I saw the outline of a clawed hand reaching over me. They come for everyone, and I’m no exception.

The Time Machine – Barnaby Collins

I stepped into the time machine. Finally, my chance to prove that the Novikov Self-Consistency Principle actually existed! I checked my head-mounted camera. Functioning perfectly. Any second now, I would be beamed straight to the year 2155. I could hear and feel it now, the hum building to a climax, the lights flashing faster and faster, the world began to spin…

I opened my eyes. My family’s rusty old time machine still worked! I stepped out, into the attic, looking around. The attic was full of old cardboard boxes, rotting slightly. It smelled musty, and the floorboards felt uncertain beneath my feet. I would have to tread carefully. Clearly no-one had been up here in several years. I looked for the trapdoor, guided by the dim, gloomy lights of the time machine. I found it. Groping for the handle, I spotted a ladder in the corner. Once the trapdoor was open, I moved over, picking it up and carefully lowering it down into the opening. It struck the floor hard. I held my breath. No sound. I exhaled and slowly secured it against the rim of the trapdoor, before climbing down.

On the landing, I removed the torch from my pocket. It lit up half the house. I whispered the command to make the light dimmer. It obediently lowered the intensity. Much better. Shining it around, I moved down the stairs.

The light, as it slithered down the stairwell ahead of me, illuminated a ghostly figure. I froze.

I exhaled as I recognised it as a MkII HouseCleaner. These things were practically ancient. I peered at the darkened screen. It would turn back on and stop charging in two hours. Plenty of time. I continued down.

At the bottom of the stairs, I moved into the hall. Still no sign of human habitation. As I eased the front door open (The locks were the same as they were back in the present, thankfully), and there it was. The old family SkyCar. We got rid of that old thing years ago. It was obviously brand new now, though. There were lights in the house opposite, and zooming in on the illuminated windows I saw a dinner party. How old fashioned! I recognised my grandfather and grandmother from the photos I had studied at home before coming here, but they looked younger than I expected. They were laughing, raising a glass with some strangers. I formulated a plan. I would wait in the car until the party was over, and when they returned I would put my plan into action.

Later, I heard laughing and goodbyes in the street outside. I raised my head and peeked over the dashboard. They were crossing the street. I put my foot down and aimed the car at them.

As I approached at top speed, I saw them turn, gasp in horror and start to run away. But I knew they were perfectly safe. I trusted the Novikov Self-Consistency Principle. It would save their lives. I was a few metres away now, shooting at them like a pulse out of a laser gun. If I hit them, they would be obliterated. But I had trust in Igor Novikov. The SkyCar would evade them at the last moment, to prevent a time paradox. I wish the other, scornful scientists could see me now, proving conclusively that the Principle existed. But they would, when I showed them the footage from the camera

mounted on my headset. I watched my grandparents shoot closer, and the SkyCar kept going, and I felt a jolt as it was forced to one side. I shot into the wall on the side of the road. I climbed out of it, triumphant. Until I saw the blood spattered across the front of the car, and the remains of my grandparents, crushed between the car and the wall. Oh God. I killed them. I wanted to scream my rage, to kill myself for what I had done.

Steven. Super Hero – Patrick Scarr

It was just another simple day, like normal for Steven. He went to a college in Miami; he never got into any of the sport or friendship groups. Recently he did felt like he was growing in strength but he didn’t believe it; he had never been to the gym. He was bullied for having a repeatedly strange behaviour, when he hides in his arms for about half an hour and then has outbursts of anger.

Nobody knows the real reason behind him. When he was eight years old he was out playing in the snow, his fingers numb from the freezing breeze. He was with his five year old sister, when she went too far out on to the ice, after running away from snowballs flying from all directions. When Steven was building a supply of fresh snowballs to throw at her, he heard a yell of a young girl who had become so silent through fear; this was the only sound she could make. As he turned to face his paralysed sister she said to him “Steven I’m scared!” by the time Steven could realise the fact. CRACK! His little sister had fallen through the ice. Every time in his head he hears the last words his sister said he becomes sick and feels like he now has no reason to live. That is all he ever sees and hears. Like a video that has just been left on a loop. Every time he hides in his arms so he can hide from the pain of seeing a young girls face melt away into the darkness of death.

Now he has to move on with the only motivation of his sister. All he hopes is to just get through the day so that he could just get home and hide away from the streets of hell, the yelling and screaming of young kids just like the time when he was that eight year old boy who had the same sounds as his sister when she just fell to her doom. As he walked home, he saw a lady walk past and he had that same feeling of every step he took just felt like walking through the mud of a swamp and his feet began to get heavy. Steven knew he just had to get home he couldn’t take it anymore. When he heard the scream of the lady which sounded very similar to his sisters, he knew he must react just so he can prove to himself and his sister that he can help and not just watch someone who is helpless not receive any help.

As he looked round the corner he saw two men hitting and stealing from this poor lady. Steven yelled “get off her!” they just replied by laughing. He started to approach them, without having a clue why. He had never done anything to get strong or even try fighting. One of the two men looked away from the lady and at Steven. He got up and asked “what are you going to do about it, you’re just a kid.” Steven just kept on walking although he had been telling himself to leave it. The thug, who was wearing a hood, raised an arm to punch Steven. As his arm gained speed, Steven just caught his hand, as though it was a ball. He started tensing his hand and he could see that the thief was in pain as his hand was slowly being broken it sounded like the sound of cereal being poured into a bowl. Steven then pushed the man back, as though it was a door. The man flew back about ten metres and landed on top of some trash bags. As the man who was still trying to take money from the purse. The lady asked “how did you do that?” All Steven did was turn and run home…

Above – Adam Ling

The storm swept over, blocking out the red sun and plunging the earth into darkness. As it engulfed the world and its people, it became apparent that it would reduce all to rubble, or else to ash. The screams resonated and bounced around the crumbling skyscrapers, all subject to this one heavenly storm. The only area of sky free of darkness was the giant, blinding hole that marked the hole in the magnetosphere that was an inevitable consequence of man’s colossal footprint formed of oil and coal. From this the clouds came pouring forth, and thunder roared overhead. And for those fortunate few whose demise had been cut short by lightning, their charred corpses lay in the streets, scorched into

eternal oblivion, though no one saw them, for they were too captured by the collapsing sky that was laying waste their city, turning it into a necropolis of writhing figures that would never rest amongst the broken remains of civilisation.

Hours later the remnants of the storm were being roamed by the creeping figures that had been fortunate enough to escape underground, the acrid smoke stinging their tongues and noses. They wept at the hideous bodies strewn across the concrete that littered the roads. They called desperately, searching for signs of life, but there was none. Nothing was left of the human race, save these lost, desolated individuals. Exploring further, they came across nothing but death and destruction, and buried bodies protruding from the mounds of brick and stone, disfigured beyond any means of recognition. The world lay in ruins and its only survivors were these unlikely men who, it seemed, must rebuild if they wished to live much longer than their previous generation. And yet they are without knowledge or resources. There is no remaining hope for the human race, for no men can salvage a world like this, full of fire and ash. This planet has burnt, and its inhabitants with it. A grey sky looks down upon a grey earth and a grey ocean. What was once a beautiful, flourishing planet has become a dead, grey tomb, which encases the survivors and will slowly drag them into its dry, choking embrace.

The Body – Millie Knibbs

A piercing scream filled the house, definitely waking surrounding houses, but there were no neighbours in the middle of nowhere, making it an easier target. I left her, withering on the floor, covered in blood.

I pulled up outside the house, alongside the police and ambulance. From the outside the house looked sweet and peaceful, but inside was the most horrific sight. I carefully walked up the stairs, with the other investigators behind me, pictures of a woman and young girl lined the walls. I prepared myself for sight, I had seen awful things in my time, but as I pushed open the newly painted door, I froze. The body of a young teenage girl, around fifteen, lay, completely lifeless on the blood-stained carpet, which I assume was once cream. Her face is pale, and her eyes are a dark green, blood has dried on her hands and cheek, but on her arm is three cuts, not small scratches, but deep cuts that had torn through the tissue, almost to the bone. The room was silent while we all took in what lay in front of us, but as always everyone soon got back to their jobs. Paramedics examined the body; investigators searched the house whilst I tried to work out how this had happened, and who had done this. I wasn’t sure of anything yet, but one thing made sense to me, that whoever had murdered this girl was not human.

I was deep in thought, trying to piece the evidence I had together, when I was interrupted by the shouts of a woman, I could hear other voices trying to calm her down, reassuring her that everything would be alright, and that she should stay out the house for a while, but she must of ignored the advice as soon, she burst through the door, with a tear stained face and tired eyes. She stopped still, just like everyone else who saw this same sight for the first time, her body started to tremble, her knees weakened and she drooped to the floor, shaking and crying. The police entered the room, comforting her, and trying to move her away from her daughters limp body. Of course, like any other mother who has just lost her only child, she refused, and instead moved closer to the body. Gently, she touch her daughters cold cheek, with tears spilling from her eyes, then she turned to me, “Who would do this?”

“I wish I knew” I replied. “We will do all we can to find out, I’m sorry for your loss” I thought it best to keep my unrealistic thoughts to myself, but no human could have harmed a young girl like this….