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A weekly short story contest
Looking for a steady supply of science fiction short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.
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We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $250!
The steady flashing of the red light overhead was growing quite monotonous and irritating on the eyes. At least Maimun had finally managed to get the blaring voice of the A.I. system repetitively screaming, “System Breech. System Breech. System Breech,” to stop.
The sirens blare all throughout the ship as the emergency lights flare up crimson red and flash so brilliantly it could give even the blind a headache. I grumble to myself, not for the first time, that perhaps rather than focusing on building such an elaborate panic system, the amare ships could focus on maybe making a design that wasn’t infiltratable? The amare to my right moves his huma...
“Dude, it’s post lunch time and we’re still stuck out in the Void. Didn’t you promise I’d get to eat some of that frosty cake??!”“Shut up,” Calci grumbles as he continues tinkering with the dermometric tank in front of him.Flix doesn’t, perturbed that the one time of year he can have actual sweet food, he’s stuck on maintenance duty with the most stubborn mechanic of the garrison. He’s so busy complaining about his loss, neither company notices the floating anchor falling behind. Said anchor is supposed to keep t...
"You told me this would be a short trip. We've been on this wretched ship for twelve years!" Halo roared. "I know, but I broke the digital map and-" "I don't care what happened! I paid you a good handful of money and I expected to be home long before now!"
“Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” “We’re on auto-pilot, Eric.” “I know,” replied Eric, studying the course they had charted. “This just doesn’t look anything like the map.” “I’m sorry,” his companion rebuffed, “I didn’t realise you had a degree in intergalactic cartography.” “I mean, it’s not rocket science, is it?” Eric waited for his companion to laugh, or at least smile, but when she instead crossed her arms and avoided even looking at him, he continued. “Angela, look,” he implored, n...
Day seven: Oxygen draining, food vanishing, water diminishing. Mind going blank. Nightmares continuing. Tired. Only way out. . .none. Exhausted. Worried about family. Stressing. Need to find an escape. Tune out voices. Growing darker. Enclosed spaces. Can't breathe. Heart beat slowing. Eyes, heavy. Tongue, dry. Cold everywhere. Ice in the air. Stars cease to exist. Cold. Cold. Cold. Lights put out--''Dan! Danny! Hey, are you writing in your diary again?'' there was a thud and in came a young, tall adult...
“Year 1, Month 8, Day 21. Engines are running on fumes, life support is minimally active in only necessary areas, still lost in deep space…” “Why do they call it deep space? What does depth have to do with anything? From a three dimensional perspective, we aren’t shallow or deep, high or low, left or right. I mean, really, that kind of perspective would require a static ...
A warm color flitted in my eyelids, the blue veins popping out in spiraling shapes. I tried to turn so I could bury my head in my pillow and ignore the light, but it got brighter and brighter. Finally, I threw my blankets off and got up.“Good Morning, Astronaut Katilyn. The time is currently 7:48am and the sun i...
Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways“I swear if there was anyone else on this spaceship, they would help me kill you!” John said to Marsha.“Oh, yeah. If there was anyone...
Well it turns out that when you are traveling for several months through space, cryopods are pretty nice. If you are traveling through a self driven spacecraft there isn’t really much to do, hence the cryosleep. Not only does it prevent you from getting bored, it also slows your aging and metabolism. For the Newmans who were flying on the The Sparkler Flight No. 174, the cryo pods had a small problem: they didn’t freeze up.
Deep in space, a lone ship drifts though the shadow of a moon. Alarms blare as the ship shakes from the strain of staying together. Vika flips a switch up and down, her thick gloves catching. She grits her teeth as she tries to pull a wire from the panel. She yanks the gloves off and throws them behind her. Who cares if the cold of space gives her frostbite if she’s dead? The cold seeps into her fingers as she wiggles them through the wires and yanks the one she’s looking for. &n...
The explosion blasted a million obols worth of cometary material into the oblivion of space, a disaster even without their ship being parked at ground zero, but what really rattled Jacey Komarov was the destruction of her entire set of Space Kitchen Deluxe™ radiant cookware, which had been safely stowed on board. She’d bought the set on Callisto twenty-three years before and cared for it like a child ever since. To her, it was more precious than platinum. You couldn’t find gear like that here in the Oort Territories. Sta...
Dril entered from the air-lock. Myr looked up from the vid-screen.“Brrr, it’s cold out there.”“Don’t you wear your suit?”“Of course I do. You think I’m crazy?”Myr raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer that. “I remember reading it is always cold out there. It’s the moon, silly.”“I know it’s the moon. I got us this gig, remember?”“That I do.”“I mean, who better than us to prospect the best sites for mining delicious moon cheese?”“No one I can think of.” Myr sighed. “You...
Space is a dark, low abyss. Let me tell you how we got here. Hi, I’m Alvin, Alvin Reid and I’m recording this space journal after our space collision. We were traveling through a high-speed orbit and one of out ide panel got detached and a few wires seemed to be damaged when a fleet of asteroids appeared in front of our ship. I’m no expert so I called the space Centre control room through radio communication and headed out with my space partner, Henry Pavarotti.The second reason I’m recording this journal is to rant about how annoying Hen...
CAPTAIN ANTONILLEBy Andrew Paul Grell“Because I’m three billion years old, you big oaf, that’s why. Your years. Oaf is the correct word? We haven’t had extra-large or overly-clumsy people in quite a long time. How would you describe that process? Darwined out? Is that two n’s or one? What kind of language have you got going on? On Kapteyn A we have seven billion years of language and by now we know how to spell.”“Nice neologism, Yi...
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