Red Line_Tepid_The Rebellion_the earth looks better from a star
Catalog Guide:
Red Line
November 22nd, 2073Dear Diary,My name is Alex Humphry. I am 23 years old and I am from Brisbane. This is my first time writing in a diary and, let me tell you, it may be my last. Since the epidemic a few years ago, humankind has been declining one by one. Now there’s just me. I mean, I can’t complain, I guess. I get all the clothes in the world without paying for them. I get all the food in the world without waiting for it. They all disappeared. That stupid powerplant really thought they were doing something when they were testing that stupid elixer for immortality and now...now they all evapo...
Tepid
“So, what’s the catch?”The voice that spoke was not so much a voice, but the sound of a thousand instruments all playing at once. They culminated into tones and octaves that imitated speech. Making each little sound wave emit a syllable, one in front of the other. It formed a sentence that many would say was skeptical. But it wasn’t skepticism that prompted the question. The owner of this voice was far too new to know any such thing. It was merely that the one speaking to the owner of the strumming voice had paused, worry emanating from it’s lively continence. If such a being as this seemed he...
The Rebellion
Steam rose from the white porcelain teacup as her eyes scanned the horizon; the sweet herbal tea slid down her throat soothing her frayed nerves. The wind blew the dust in little delicate swirls, Fenn couldn’t remember the last time she had seen grass growing on her farm; ‘What I wouldn’t give to see grass again…’ mused eighteen year old Fenn, ‘I wonder if the rest of the world looks like this desert I call home?’. Her father took her from the city when she was four years old, telling her that the world had become dangerous and that if they wanted to survive the new government they had to lea...
the earth looks better from a star
We met on a long bus ride. I sat next to him, and his feet turned toward me. His whole body was on a diagonal in my direction, and I thought who does that? Who rearranges themselves to pay so much attention to a stranger? I had books and binders on my lap. An hour into our conversation, he put one wrist on top of the pile. It was still early morning, blue night light filling the bus, blurring shapes and faces into silhouettes, an occasional street lamp or the moon highlighting one feature when its glow entered through the window, like a spotlight casting emphasis on a hand or a smile, whateve...