Six Sentence Stories #1
They say when the ground was bathed in darkness, the predators were born and devoured the world. Once the darkness fell, I began watching these things. Something about their empty, soulless black eyes, razor sharp, shark like teeth and alabaster skin, unnerved me at first. The more I watched, the more I began to think these things were older than humanity. Their predatory and silent way they hunted seemed almost evolutionary, as if they were designed for the singular purpose of wiping out humanity. Humanity was no longer on the top of the food chain and was now the main course.
Six Sentence Stories #2
When they applied the brand of the heretic, I screamed in fury, rage, and pain. That was a few days as far as I could tell. The Inquisitor like to visit multiple times a day to get me to confess my sins in front of God, which made keeping track of time difficult. I was no sinner. My birth was that of a common man, born to peasant parents. Blasting, trumpets alerted me it was, time for my meager meal and my best chance to break these chains and run.
Six Sentence Stories #3
The ship, groaned as it landed on the surface. Probes told us the surface was dessert like, and dry. Checking the seals on my helmet, I stood from my cramped chair. I was to be the first on the surface of this world we called, Mojave. With a loud hiss, the port door dropped with a thud. Storms of dust and sand were the first thing I saw as I took my first step onto this barren looking world.
Six Sentence Stories #4
Crows encircled me, as I stood the last man standing in a field of corpses. The stench of gunpowder still lingered in the silence. Bodies of friends and foes rested around me in silent death. Distant sounds of horses, galloping could be heard through the wind. Scavengers, no doubt come to steal from the dead. Blasts of agony and sorrow echoed through my body, as stood up letting the cleansing rain fall over me.
Six Sentence Stories #5
Excruciating pain in my chest was the last thing I recall. Now I stand, in a hollow shell at a crossroads. Two crossed signs, rested on a pole of white impaled on the ground held the sign. One read life, directing you on a dark path, and the other read death, directing you on a path of blinding light. On my right shoulder rested an angel, on the left a skeletal figure in black. They both whispered into my ears, trying to force a decision on the choice that lay in front me.
Six Sentence Stories #6
When I was young, I wanted to be a treasure hunter in a world that had gone sour. Now that I was at my first freelance job, I was nervous and my palms were sweaty. My fingers wrapped around the cold steel of my gun. This place had a reputation for technology before everything. I heard stories of those who had entered and were never seen again. Still drunk some from last night, I took a deep breath before pushing myself into the old factory.
Six Sentence Stories #7
I looked up from my shackles, as I was lead to the chopping block by the tip of a spear. A crowd of nobles and peasants had come to watch the death of a man, whose only charge was murder. The executioner stood hooded in black beside the block, with a sharp ax in his hand. A silent excitement seemed to fill the air as I was pushed down on the worn, blood-stained, stone block. I had felt no guilt for what I did. The cold steel of the ax fell on my neck, and into the unfeeling embrace of death.
Six Sentence Stories #8
Winter had consumed the world in a monstrous embrace, leaving the oceans frozen and the world cold. Earth had become a frozen wasteland in the blink of an eye. Only the most dangerous of humanity seemed to survive. Food and liquid water had become scarce. Even animals seemed rare in this frozen wasteland. Cities had become living tombs. Forests had become nothing more than death traps, where trees impaled daring travelers upon frozen branches.
Six Sentence Stories #9
Hiding in a forest, I waited for my target from a tree top blending in with the leaves. Considering I was paid almost double my standard fee, I knew better than to make a mistake. I was told my target would be dressed in a dark purple tunic, with a piece of dyed red leather over his right shoulder. They gave me a brief description of his appearance but refused to tell me his name. It made little difference to me, as they as I got paid. Voices carried on the wind, alerted me that the small hunting party that contained my target was close.
Six Sentence Stories #10
Silently I watched the stars from the first window of my cockpit, on my ship. It was a humbling a beautiful sight, from the comfort of my chair. I knew I should name my ship, but had yet to decide on a name. Given what I did for a living, as an explorer of this giant cosmos, maybe I could call it The Columbus. From where I sat the name among the stars it seemed fitting to name. Space had replaced the sea, as a place where you could travel the worlds that had yet to be seen.