I just remember running. They were coming from all directions and there was no way out for me. No matter how fast I ran, it wouldn’t make any difference. They’d catch me and I would be done. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath; I could hear them moving through the branches and the trees. I could hear them breathing, they felt so close. I was the only one who survived the attack. But it was only a matter of time before they got me too. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore, my body screaming for rest. “Why me? Why is this happening?”

The base buzzed with energy as staff members were deeply immersed in preparation. Each pioneer was assigned to their respective teams, focusing intently on prepping and loading gear. The task at hand wasn't merely about preparing for flight; the military had the capabilities to handle the logistics of getting to Pioneer Station. Instead, this process was essential for fostering a sense of unity and teamwork among the pioneers. Engaging them in launch prep was a fundamental team-building strategy that Mitch Thomas strongly endorsed. It was a lesson learned from previous missions: the team needed to feel like a cohesive unit before reaching their destination.

For Eyes of High-Level Security Personnel Only This document contains sensitive information regarding the A.L.P.H.A. program, unit designs, development, and deployment under the classified operations of the International Coalition of Nations (ICN). The details herein are considered top secret and are authorized for review only by personnel with the highest level of security clearance. Unauthorized dissemination, reproduction, or discussion of this material is prohibited by ICN regulations and may result in severe legal and military consequences. This document outlines the operational capabilities, design evolution, and deployment history of the A.L.P.H.A. units, with emphasis on their pivotal role in supporting the Pioneer program.

Sarah looked at her phone screen, her brows knitting together as she read, "Nice to meet you, Sarah. I'm Richard." The text seemed innocuous, but it left her uneasy as if she were about to converse with a ghost. She took a deep breath, her fingers hovering over the keypad, then began to type her response. "Hi, Richard," she wrote, hitting "send" with a hint of reluctance. The following pause felt longer than it should have, and for a moment, she wondered if something had gone wrong with the app. Then, a graphic appeared on the screen, indicating that a response was coming.

Gavin was barely hanging on to sleep; his body twisted in the tangle of sheets that felt like an uneasy cocoon. The approaching morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long, pale stripes across the room. The foggy haze of dawn had just begun to lift, but Gavin's mind was already churning with uncertainty. Last night had been restless, haunted by the knowledge that Nate, a ghost, was somewhere in his living room.

Outside of the bus, what will the guys find? Who was the mysterious figure walking outside? As they chase after answers, will they find them, or will they regret leaving the bus?

I don't remember why I started sitting on the bench in the park. Each day with my guitar, I sat, played, and sometimes sang a gentle song. People passing by would pause, mesmerized by the melodies, and I sensed a connection forming between the music, the park, and its visitors as if the songs awakened a shared memory within them.

Morning came quickly, and Will groaned as he slowly sat up, his muscles aching from yesterday's punishing training. As he stretched in an attempt to ease his pain, he noted the excitement building in the quarters and the trainees anticipated meeting the Alphas. The trainees gathered in the main hall to receive Mitch's latest news and instructions. When he arrived, the hall was already buzzing with chatter, and most of his colleagues were present and seated. The atmosphere was charged, and the anticipation was almost tangible as they waited for the briefing to start.

The room was eerily silent except for the occasional hum of the refrigerator. Gavin sat on the edge of the couch, still clutching the bat like a lifeline. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Nate sat comfortably on the couch across from him, examining the room with a curious gaze, as if he were a guest in someone's home rather than a ghostly apparition. There were no whirls of light, clouds or misty orbrs. Nor was there howling, moaning or any of the other sounds ghost make in horror films.

The young man sat, breathing through what he had been told. There will be no other assignments if this assignment fails. He hesitated. "This is my last assignment. If I can't be successful this time, I won't be reassigned?" On the screen, the man's smile faded and changed to a serious expression. "Yes, that's right. If you fail this time, you will be categorized as ineffective and no longer needed." The young man gulped, his eyes narrowing as the words sank in. "No longer needed?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "That's correct."

A poem ...Today's offering is a poem. I hope you like it! Shadows dance upon the wall I walk among them, my dance indifferent

“Jennifer, get out of there! Now!” Captain Morris’s voice crackled through the line. Before she could react, a deafening explosion rocked the street outside. The ground trembled as fire and shrapnel engulfed the area. Four coordinated bomb attacks had turned the bustling heart of New York into a war zone.

Please write a story based on this title! I'd love to see your submissions and creativity! Have fun and enjoy.

I stand tall in a space where people like to come. A place of calm and beauty. Where they sit, sign, relax, read, and ease. They come from different areas for different reasons. And there is no judgment or requirements to be here with me. I guess they like that part. I know I do. And I love my group of companions that come.

"To boat or not to boat...that is the question." I giggled as I walked up the boat, giving my best Shakespearean voice. I had never gone fishing before, but this was a bucket list activity, so today was the day. I chose an off-the-beaten-path place with only a few boats to rent, and the space was relatively quiet. It was solitude I wanted. When I arrived, there was only one boat left. It was a row boat. Great. The man in the office was odd; he was mysterious. A little weird but not frightening. He gave me a pack of complimentary supplies and pointed at the small row boat at the end of an old dock.

It was frightening. I had got up that morning to go to work like any other day. I wasn’t looking forward to work and I remember praying for something to happen so I wouldn't have to go. Yeah. I probably shouldn’t have done that. The one time my prayers were answered. I had just got my coffee, the usual spot and my usual drink. My routine was pretty regular, anyone could figure it out. It never occurred to me that someone might be following me. But they were. I stopped at an ATM to grab some cash, stepped to the corner to cross the street and was met by a car. Two men grabbed me and dragged me in, I didn’t see their faces. They drove for bit, tying me up and blindfolding me as they drove. The car stopped after a while and they put me in the cold dark trunk. I was terrified. What was happening?

It was a horrific scene. As Gavin pulled over, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach; he knew this was going to be bad. The sounds of screaming and sirens filled the air, creating an eeriness he didn't like. The intersection was a chaotic mess, the expected aftermath of a serious accident. Gavin struggled to stay focused, his eyes darting across the street at the mangled cars, shaking his head in disbelief. He considered just going home for a moment but couldn't bring himself to leave. He had to stop and help. So, he pulled over.

It was dark, the sun still well below the horizon. Will glanced at the clock; 2 a.m. glowed back at him. Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him. His mind clung to the past, memories refusing to loosen their grip, haunting his waking hours. He sighed deeply, turning to his side to face the wall. Shadows danced on the surface, reminiscent of Melissa's graceful steps. He smiled faintly, remembering her twirling with effortless grace, her hair flowing as she moved. Whether there was music or not, she always found a rhythm. The memory brought a bittersweet comfort, lulling him into a fragile sleep. His rest was short-lived. The blaring alarm ripped through the silence, marking the start of another grueling day. Will sat on the edge of the bed, stretching out stiff muscles from the week's relentless training. The barracks buzzed with early movement, fellow trainees already up and getting ready for the day.

Before we begin our journey together, you must know what has happened to bring us where we are today. The year is 2125. Earth is a very different place. After generations of trying to save it, the land, waters, and society have reached their breaking point. You might think things would have turned out differently. After all, we were warned. In the 21st century, it was predicted that there would be significant shifts to the climate that would change the face of the Earth and the quality of life for those who lived on it. The world's governments tried to adjust policies and behaviors, hoping to improve conditions so the predictions would not come true. Still, focusing on societies with a common genome but very different beliefs was difficult. The truth is, there never was a true coming together of nations and minds to make any real change.

The room was basic. Only a few items are required to meet the needs of a standard waiting room. The only difference was the empty, cold, stark look of everything. The walls were plain and white. There was no sign of the art, decorations, or anything now or ever along the walls. There wasn't even a clock to remind visitors of the time. And there was a non-threatening, boring beige carpet traveling along the ground, meeting the walls, finishing up the plain, noninvasive look of the room. As you entered the room there was a grey metal door with a metal handle, no placards or signs, just the cold door that offset the white walls that surrounded it on each side. To the right was a desk. The desk was simple, metal, with no decorative quality. The metal legs dropped down to the floor, digging into the ocean of beige that surrounded it. On the desk, there was a monitor, a small tablet, and a phone. Pushed in tight was a metal chair with black leather cushioned trim on the back and arms.