science-fiction

Your desire for vengeance will cause countless deaths, child,_ she said, pointing a crooked finger at Rhylie. __nnocents will be caught up in your maelstrom, their lives torn apart. People you have never met, and will never know will die beneath your shadow if you do not stop. You tear the galaxy asunder with each step you take towards Vorcia.

We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.

If I can keep writing just one good page a day, I will have 15 published novels in my expected lifetime. Tick, tick, tick...

For the first time she realized she'd spent so much time mourning a world that had ended ages ago, hoping to resurrect it, that she'd never paid attention to what it was becoming. Or returning to again, now that it was unfettered. Where were the centaurs, she might have asked instead. Where were the gorgons, the furies, the giants and the gods?

He clicked the Save button, and there was the sound of a trumpet fanfare. A cleverly designed Flash animation in emerald green illuminated in gold leapt out at him in a 3D effect like the titles of an epic film: WELCOME, ASH, TO BIG BROTHER, THE AVENGER! The words exploded in a shower of gold dust. A voice boomed chillingly, __f you want help to sort them out, look no further! Big Brother will avenge you!

I am, like you, travelling along a road of absolute uncertainty and chaos. The only truth is that one day, we will all reach the end.

But he doesn't see what's so great about leaving your mark on things. You have a life and then it ends and you're dead. Living it is the point, not proving to other people that you were there. The whole thing is really just water pouring down a plughole, but that's absolutely fine. Standing water gets stagnant.

The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

I__e come to accept the voices in my head_ I just wish they didn__ spit when they talk.

Growth of consciousness does not depend on the might of the intellect but on the conviction of the heart.

In an age of rust, she comes up stainless steel

Don't pick up hitchhikers!"- D. Adams

...They are merely scars, not mortal wounds and you must use them to propel you forward.

We cannot tell that we are constantly splitting into duplicate selves because our consciousness rides smoothly along only one path in the endlessly forking chains

The fatal error of much science fiction has been to subscribe to an optimism based on the idea that revolution, or a new gimmick, or a bunch of strong men, or an invasion of aliens, or the conquest of other planets, or the annihilation of half the world--in short, pretty nearly anything but the facing up to the integral and irredeemable nature of mankind--can bring about utopian situations. It is the old error of the externalization of evil.

The single word that directs a person__ fate and ultimately the fates of those she comes in contact with is of course a common subject of entertainments and moralizing stories, but if everyone were to consider all the possible consequences of all one__ possible choices, no one would move a millimeter, or even dare to breathe for fear of the ultimate results.

I wanted moments like this to last forever. If it couldn't, I wanted to play it on repeat so I wouldn't forget the details of every second.

Every Mind Breaker I met was a true person inside and out. My name is Hayden Laevary, and these are their stories... as well as mine.